Out of the archives, written last year and never posted. I'm here again on August 2, 2017 for this year's edition of Satchmo Summerfest!
Satchmo Summerfest August 3 - 8, 2016:
A Look Back, August 20, 2016
It shouldn't surprise you that I'm heading there again in a few days...
August 20, 2016
Louis Armstrong is as much a presence in this city as the live oaks that line St. Charles Street and the tip jars that are plopped alongside of every busker in the French Quarter. He was born in one of the poorest most abject parts of New Orleans yet left a legacy that is priceless. The annual Satchmo Summerfest is a huge thank you note to the first important soloist who changed the course of jazz in America.
Every band in Jackson Square from Friday through Sunday, each in its own way, paid homage to Louis (August 4, 1901-July 6, 1971). Along with traditional Dixieland and New Orleans jazz, I can’t tell you how many times I heard songs like “Shine”, “Give Me A Kiss That I Can Dream On”. “What A Wonderful World”, check notes for more were played and sung.
What I can tell you is that the songs were interpreted differently and sounded glorious every single time. My weekend favorite was The Tuxedo Brass Band playing “What A Wonderful World” to a rumba beat.
The range of voices and instrumentals/band was fabulous. Men and women sang and played their hearts out. All of them, from traditional jazz bands to kick ass brass bands, took time to say what an effect Armstrong’s style and creativity had on them. Louis broke the mold in the 1920s by playing trumpet solos the likes of which had never been heard before – and have become standards since.
Armstrong’s influence is the amniotic fluid in which these musicians were born. The beauty of New Orleans music is that it is informed and inspired by the past but always sounds fresh. These musicians are no copycats. Each is driven to put his/her own stamp on the music. Jackson Square became a petri dish for celebratory creativity.
No nation of musicians can get a crowd going like these in New Orleans. When they shout, “Stand up and shake your butts!” people stand up. When they shout, “You know the words, sing ‘em with us!” Damn if everyone doesn’t sing along, and with gusto. You could probably make a case that Louis Armstrong had something to do with this since his connection to his audiences was filled with humor and a sense of playfulness. Each and every one of the 40 bands who played at two stages in Jackson Square proved that hour after hour.
This was fry an egg on the hood of a car temperatures with humidity suited for hot house tomatoes. In fact, on Sunday, one of the members of the Dirty Dozen Brass Band collapsed on stage from heat exhaustion.
Normal summer. Every patch of shade was occupied but hundreds brought their camp chairs, spread out on blankets, or just sprawled in the grass in the midst of the square. Music alternated between two stages. The Jackson Square is small enough so if you camped out in the middle, you could easily hear the bands all day long. At $5.00, it is the best music value in Louisiana.
No outdoor festivity here goes without food. Vendors from the city’s famous food emporiums sold po boys, red beans and rice and collard greens, jambalaya, fried catfish, and more. Ice cream, snow cones…yep… one of my favorite – a banana and nutella crepes. And cooling alcoholic beverages from beer to margaritas, rum and daiquiris. If you weren’t prudent in this heat, you might have snoozed and missed a bunch of music after a couple of pops.
The people of New Orleans, at music events and beyond, are a sub culture to themselves. I have struck up conversations on a street car, at a bar, in a diner, at a music hall, a park bench and after five minutes know where they live, their favorite foods or places to eat or listen to music, an explanation of a cultural or historic or social custom, and tip about the best way to get where I’m going and possibly where to stop off on the way.
On the way to the Louis Armstrong International Airport on Monday, I’m in the front seat talking to the Airport Shuttle driver. She says people keep in touch after such random meetings, still keep in touch because they trade cell numbers. Or that locals invite visitors over for a barbeque on the spot and stay in touch after that. She says that Kermit Ruffins and Jeremy Davenport, two of the best known trumpeters in town, are good friends, that sometimes after a show at Kermit’s place, the former Ernie K Doe Club on St. Claude, he will say, “Come on everybody, let's go over to The Ritz and listen to Jeremy Davenport!” But I digress.
The last time I initiated a conversation on a Boston trolley, the person next to me put his earbuds back on to signal he wasn’t interested.
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