I Have a Confession

I'll just say it... I'm a Jazz Fest virgin. How would this be? I play music. I love music. I love to travel. I love N'awlins. With as many times as I've been to New Orleans, how did I miss this event? I've always wanted to go, it just never happened. I guess it's because I could never afford the price of a hotel here at Jazz Fest time. I still can't...let's say I'm "camping out" at the moment.

Arriving at the festival after another 4am outing and very little sleep, there were a few things to navigate. Parking for one. I lucked out at finding a secret spot a few blocks where I wouldn't be ticketed and towed. There were only a few residents back in this area which took on some water during the storm.

As the music wafted over from the festival, a hanging lamp on the porch of a deserted home blew back in forth in the wind as the front door open and shut with each gust. I felt a flood (oops, sorry, wrong word) of emotions as the prevailing sadness seemed to compete with the nearby festivities.



Besides Jazz Fest, I have two other words: Cowboy Mouth.
I must have been living in a cave having never heard this band before. Their emotional, fired-up set was perhaps one of the best live performances I've ever seen. Definitely check them out. Eerily, the power went out in the middle of "Hurricane Party." Jazzfest personnel are trying to get to the bottom of this one. They say it might be a typical Cowboy Mouth publicity stunt, since the Fest generally runs flawlessly and has the coolest production team ever.



Penny Grisamore, friends with the famous frontman Fred LeBlanc, was emotional while listening to "The Avenue", an amazing post-Katrina song on Cowboy Mouth's new record. The first time she heard tune was when Fred played it live at her house. I hear Ellen DeGeneres also cried when they played it on her show. I did too.



Also caught funky bad boy Dr. John for the first time as well...There were so many amazing acts at the fest that I needed to clone myself 20 times over. Locals say this is the busiest Friday at the fest that they can remember. Each note played was a step in the continued healing of this wonderful city.

Amber Lights and White Whine

Helen Taylor, 82, (left) and Dorothy Jones, 70, are friends, neighbors and a bright beacon in a mostly deserted block of Prieur Street in New Orleans' 8th Ward. While attention has focused on the obliterated 9th Ward, folks in the 8th were hit hard as well. I came across Helen and Dorothy hanging out on Dorothy's porch as her family was in the process of gutting and renovating her home. The spirit of New Orleans shines through as people like these gals slowly make their way home.


I paid a visit to Habitat for Humanity's Musicians Village in the upper 9th Ward shortly after visiting with Helen and Dorothy. Volunteers from all over the country are here lending a hand because we all feel like shit and can't believe the post-Katrina chaos that occured. Sober spring-breaksters have made their mark with legalized graffiti.



After a typical late NOLA night, I awoke this morning with noble intent but was only able to volunteer for 15 minutes after photographing the site since they quit at 3:30pm each day. I basically showed up for my own photo op. Don't I feel much better now? Don't we all want to volunteer for Habitat for Humanity someday? All cynicism aside, this is a terrific project to build homes for displaced musicians. Come on down, they could use your help. Uh, hours are 8:30am-3:30pm, don't stay out late...yeah, right.


Meanwhile, back in the swamp...I took a ride out to St. Bernard Parish, where I spent some time "embedded" with a Robert Dineroeseque National Guard colonel back in September. FEMA trailers have finally arrived, but like white ghosts they represent the former lives of their residents. Traffic lights are stuck on amber, a metaphor for the slow process of rebuilding. Mounds of trash and debris line the streets, discarded refrigerators lay on their sides and food from September still spoils and stinks. Signs reflect former gas prices or specials of the day, and time seems to stand still here as it does in the majority of the city. Did I need to see this again?


Today was the opening of the New Orleans Our Hometown photo exhibit at Lemieux Galleries. I was glad to contribute three pictures for the show, which will help raise money for displaced New Orleans' artists to do a residency program at Studio in the Woods in high and dry Algiers. You can purchase prints at www.nooht.org

It was cool to attend an art opening in New Orleans instead of photographing destruction. What a nice change. The picture on the upper right top row is mine. Openings are weird though, they sometimes seem a bit forced. I don't know if I could ever be an artist because of this. The Va Va Voom jazz band played and they were tight. Off to see Rockin' Jake, an old aquaintence from my Portsmouth, NH days. Jake, like others, lost most of his belongings in the storm. It takes a village.

Flyin' to New Orleans

As opposed to walkin'...trying to find some beauty in the chaos of the lower 9th ward...here's a picture I shot today.

Okay, I confess. I'm a hack of all trades but yet a virgin blogger. Listening to Walter "Wolfman" Washington at DBA in the Marigny neighborhood of New Orleans. How I arrived in town for the fourth time since Katrina is a long story which may be too boring to blog.

This all started with a quote I heard last night on Bourbon Street. "This is Bourbon Street, this isn't Sesame Street."

I'll start here and maybe work backwards at some point, maybe not. This sexy, sultry, surly city calls me back again and again...
When you meet guys like this, it brightens up your day.



This is blue dog, a stuffed Katrina survivor whose owners are rebuilding in the devasted upper 9th ward, which hasn't gotten a lot of media attention until NOLA Habitat for Humanity decided to create a musicians village in the Bywater area. I'll be visiting that site soon.

Abandoned Teddy says goodnight from N'awlins...thanks for checking in. The writing will get better when it's not so late...