No Lucy's today, for Gumbo and I are off to the Jazz Mass at St. Augustine's Church. Went alone last year and it was pretty cool. We finally hail a cab, but our driver has no clue. We finally get there and ease into our pew. Gumbo is game for this with one condition - he refuses to do the "lean to the left, lean to the right, stand up, sit down, fight fight fight" thing. It is a traditional Catholic mass, but with some great horns and percussion to back up the piano and choir. No collection plate here, but rather a big 'ol wicker basket is placed up near the alter and everyone parades up under the watchful eye of the priest as the band and choir rock the house. Good start to the day.
After church, we walk over to Port of Call on Esplanade to meet up the the Pool Hall Studs for lunch. No contact with them yet, so Gumbo goes inside to find them. I turn around and a woman, who was reading the back of my shirt, asks, "Who is Johnny Gumbo!" Perfect timing - the Man strolls out the front door. This is Johnny Gumbo. The woman is amused. A call from the PHS explains they are JUST getting started, so we'll eat and catch them at the Fest. Monsoon is the signature drink at Port of Call. For Gene's sake, I'll not describe what we eat. That finished, we're out on the street to hail a cab out to the Fairgrounds. One of our cabmates from San Clemente tells us he has some extra tickets and only want $25 for the $50 tickets. Cool. We pick up the cab fare.
John Cleary & the Absolute Monster Gentlemen are first up for us on the Gentilly Stage followed by Allen Toussaint over at Acura. Both do not disappoint. Gumbo's pick for the day is an all-star collection called The Voice of the Wetlands Allstars featuring Tab Benoit, Cyril Neville, Anders Osborne, Monk Boudreaux, Johnny Sansone, Waylon Thibodeaux and Dr. John. The Pool Hall Studs finally arrive on the scene and catch the end of the set. Excellent call, they're great (Tab is a bit long-winded toward the end explaining the need to curb the destruction of the area wetlands)!
Old man take a look at my life, I'm a lot like you (no, Neil, you ARE him!)
Next up is Neil Young at Acura, so we work our way through the huge crowd to friend Marshall's spot to the right side of the stage. Neil sounds good, his thin voice hasn't eroded too much. Drags out all the hits. Here's Cinnamon Girl:
Now that I have my Neil Young check mark, I head out to sample Luther Kent & Trickbag in the Blue Tent and The Rance Allen Group in the Gospel Tent. Good thing, too, for it suddenly pours like hell! Give me an AMEN!
Who to close with? We go with the Radiators over the Nevilles (it's not just me who thinks they kinda mail the closing set in after all these years) and the Rads, looking grizzled, give us a solid show. Hadn't seen them live since Tipitina's on my first trip to Nola in 1989. Wow, it's over. This is where we've usually gone to Shell Fest, a gathering at a nearby Shell Station for beer, tunes & camaraderie, but that has lost some of its lustre lately. Hey, here's a novel idea, let's get back to the hotel and rest up for a change! Gumbo and I do, taking a cab back with a couple from NYC who just arrived today to volunteer for Habitat For Humanity next week.
Cleaned up and refreshed, J-Gum & I head out to Lucy's, but decide to stop at the steakhouse near our hotel for a nice romantic dinner al fresco. It's a gorgeous evening. Order up a couple of steaks, a bottle of wine, some tasty bread. Nice. Well, nice until the Twin Towers come along and plop themselves down to spoil the mood. They're on their way over to Cochon further up Tchoupitoulas Street. After our respective meals, we rendevous at Vic's Kangaroo Pub to watch the Celts clinch and resume our pool grudge matches. The Studs MAY have edged us out, but I don't remember exactly. We catch up with Elisa, a current resident of New Orleans about to relocate to Colorado. Where's Gumbo? Mark, it was your turn to watch him! Well, I'm too tired to worry. Going to bed.
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