I’ve made no secret of my hostility toward Jazz Fest’s VIP package that allows high rollers to buy their way into a special enclosure in front of the stage. It not only takes the front row away from the band’s biggest fans, but it backs those fans further away from the band because of the space created by the pen. It turns out I and fans aren’t the only ones displeased by this development. Onstage, Britt Daniel of Spoon commented on the gulf between the band and the audience, and in Keith Spera’s story today at Nola.com, so did Wilco’s John Stirratt:

Stirratt picked out “tons of familiar faces” in the Jazz Fest crowd. He liked the standing-room-only space adjacent to the barricades, but was thrown off by the premium ticket corral directly in front of the stage.

“The premium area wasn’t very well-attended — not that many people ponied up the premium money for Wilco. It was weird to see faces in this sparse area, then it was jammed behind it,” he said, adding that some guys in the premium area “were moving and wrestling around. Looked like they got their money’s worth.”

 I’ve never had an issue with the Big Chief package, and if I were a business owner, I’d purchase a pair of Big Chief tickets so I could sit comfortably with a client, drink beer and watch the show. Those grandstands aren’t taking prime real estate from diehard fans, so I have no issue with them. but if the VIP pens in front of the Gentilly and Acura stages diminish the experience for fans and distract bands, they’re a really bad idea.

               

 

Last day, and Jonathan Batiste starts it with admirable nerve with a melodian solo. The air-powered instrument only has a two-octave, making the piece a rather tight meditation on a simple phrase. In a white blazer, white dress shirt and black high-water slacks, he’s a striking presence onstage and offers up an audience-friendly notion of jazz – playful, melodic and broadly referential. During “Kindergarten,” he followed a piano solo with a melodian solo that morphed into the melody of a Mardi Gras Indian chant. Appropriately, he turned it into a call-and-response segment, first with the audience and then with the horn players. From there, he switched put down the melodian and played an electric keyboard for some not-found-in-nature sounds. If that all sounds busy and/or gimmicky, there was an element of that, but Batiste held it together. The set sounded more like evidence of a restless imagination than someone pandering to the audience with the musical equivalent of quick cuts in movies.

The difference between Brother Tyrone and Sharon Jones is that the Dap-Kings work to create a moment that never actually existed, where Memphis horns and Motown drums played behind James Brown. Brother Tyrone seems to have emerged from a melted iceberg, ready to make the southern soul of 30-plus years ago without a hint of retro-ness. One isn’t necessarily preferable to the other, but those who loved Jones’ first weekend set need a dose of Tyrone as well.

In the Jazz Tent, Shamarr Allen showed why his star is on the rise. His charisma, voice and trumpet tone are such that he had the crowd out of its seats and cheering along for ideas that were, frankly, three-quarters there. When he rapped, they were with him. When he segued from a Bob James-like moment into an instrumental “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” he had people up and singing along almost immediately. For the funky, vocal “Can You Feel It,” people were up and dancing, and each moment was fine in isolation. But the Bad Plus remade “Teen Spirit” in 2003, and “Can You Feel It” is only a note or two removed from Sly’s “If You Want Me to Stay.”

Allen’s ambition is clearly to develop a jazz-funk-rock hybrid, and it’s a good one. New Orleans’ funk bands have gnawed on the bones of the Meters for so long that there’s little left to discover. At this point, the shortcomings are the shortcomings of youth, and time and broader listening will help him get where he’s going. It took Trombone Shorty a while for Orleans Ave. to find its synthesis; fortunately, Allen’s charm and talent mean he’s going to get the time and audience necessary to work his ambitions to a more satisfying conclusion.

It was pretty funny watching the Congo Square stage crew trying to erect a wind baffle in front of DJ Soul Sister’s table. Finally, it took two tattooed women to hold it up, and once she started spinning, they began dancing, giving the moment more spectacle. Soul Sister had people up dancing immediately and ramped up the energy before Chuck Brown, making me think that assigning a DJ to spin between sets every day at Congo Square would be a cool idea. It would further give the stage a unique identity, keep the energy up there, and it would draw attention to a DJ community that’s deeper than just Soul Sister and DJ Captain Charles.

It’s hard to say a lot about the Neil Young show without doing a full recap. It’s more or less what you’d expect, though I was impressed by the relatively seamless way he powered down from the distortion-enriched electric guitar songs to the delicate beauty of  ”Needle and the Damage Done” and “Heart of Gold,” then revved things back up again. The show was also beautifully uncompromising, meandering a bit during “Change Your Mind” and testing the audience’s patience went he launched into the second solo for “Down by the River.” In the Acura VIP compound, that was enough to shake off the half-milers, but they walked off just as the song got hot. Young found an idea that compelled him and the band followed into a very intense, raging place.

The stage set itself suggested an idiosyncratic show, complete with a pipe organ, an open-fronted barroom piano and a folk art-like pile of amplifiers that might explain his sound. He finished the set in front of that stack mimicking the sustained final piano chord for his cover of “A Day in the Life” with feedback. He eventually shredded his strings and banged them on the pickups for additional racket, then leaned the guitar against the stack, walked to the xylophone at the back of the stage and in a nice touch of wit, plinked out the chord one more time and that was it. Then the rain came and I went home. That was enough.

               

Felt a bit uninspired to start the day. The stickiness was a drag and wandering the same grounds is starting to feel a bit repetitive, even if it is to see great music. Then again, I also wasn’t seeing great music. Best thing I saw early besides the wedding of Mr. and Mrs. Wayne Lee onstage in the Gospel Tent was Cedric Watson and Bijou Creole – something I definitely want to see again as it reflected an expanded Creole consciousness in a Cajun/zydeco context. 

First thing to stick was the Allen Toussaint interview, which had a lot of subtle wit. He segued together a medley of Professor Longhair’s greatest hits with seemingly offhanded ease, and he tactfully, deferentially deflected a number of Ben Sandmel’s questions. Considering Toussaint’s piano style, it was a bit of a surprise when he revealed how much of an influence Professor Longhair was. He even has worked out, orchestrated charts for Longhair compositions in his files.

After that, more wandering before settling at one of the hottest sets of Jazz Fest for me – Roddie Romero and the Hub City Allstars. Romero and company are literally a South Louisiana jukebox, playing zydeco, swamp pop and the blues – all of it with a lot of groove. The last 15 minutes seemed hyperkinetic, but that might be because of the mulletted dervish dancer who threw himself with disturbing intensity into Romero’s set, jumping and spinning and swinging his dogtags. It’s possible that his nuttiness and energy merged in my brain with the music on the stage, but friends around were also pretty knocked out.

I’ve generally liked Kings of Leon on disc but found them dense and tuneless live. At the Gentilly Stage, there were a number of non-Jazz Fest elements in the show – the distortion on Caleb Followill’s voice, the fuzz bass, the triggered sequencers – but the audience that was jammed to the porto-lets suggest that notions of what does and doesn’t belong at Jazz Fest are shifting. (Or, that Jazz Fest is losing its identity and that it can accommodate any number of sounds that are neither “jazz” nor “heritage” now). Live, the U2-ness of Only By the Night was replaced by earthier sounds and that made the difference for me.

At the other end of the Fair Grounds, Bon Jovi had a crowd second only to the Dave Matthews Band crowd of 2001, which raised the question of whether Jazz Fest needs that many people, and if it does, why? And what can be done so it doesn’t need that many people? 

Bon Jovi has been an easy whipping boy for this year’s festival, a benchmark of how far it’s fallen from some idyllic yesteryear, but certainly as long as I’ve been attending – over 20 years – there have always been bands who in the dark recesses of their hearts hope 50,000 or so people will see them at one time. But do they have the ability to write hooks as big as Endymion floats? The self-editing discipline to discard anything not up to that standard? The willingness to put a sing-along moment, a group handclap or some sort of corny shtick into every song to grab the audience again every three to five minutes? The talents of the entertainer may not be ones that Jazz Fest has typically embraced, but that doesn’t mean they should be overlooked. And you have to admire to confidence of someone who has the sack to open with “Living on a Prayer.”

               

 

I dunno – if there ever was a day to camp out at Acura Stage, it’s this one. That’s always seemed to me the worst possible way to experience Jazz Fest, but with Jonathan Batiste, Allen Toussaint, Neil Young and the Neville Brothers, walking off to see other things seems like trading down much of the time. Thankfully, there are 45 minute set breaks before and after Neil to make wandering off easier. How do I fit Chuck Brown in, whose set starts after Young starts and finishes before he finishes? Pray for an indulgent passage that’s indulgent in a way that doesn’t interest me, I guess.

11:20 a.m. Red Stick Ramblers – Fais Do-Do Stage

11:30 a.m. Jonathan Batiste – Acura Stage

12:15 p.m. Dr. John interview – Music Heritage Stage

12:30 p.m. Brother Tyrone – Congo Square

12:30 Shamarr Allen – Jazz Tent

1 p.m. Allen Toussaint – Acura Stage (I hope he plays some of Bright Mississippi, but I’m not holding my breath.)

1:35 p.m. Cedric Burnside and Lightnin’ Malcolm – Blues Tent

2:55 p.m. Neil Young – Acura Stage

3:05 p.m. Chuck Brown – Congo Square

3:45 p.m. Los Lobos – Gentilly Stage (This is a lovely thought on my part, but it’s going to take someone seriously sucking or me to have absurd energy levels to think I’m realistically going to fit part of this set in.)

4:20 p.m. Guy Clark – Fais Do-Do Stage

4:35 p.m. Dash Rip Rock – Lagniappe Stage

5:40 p.m. The Soul Rebels – Jazz and Heritage Stage

5:40 p.m. The Neville Brothers – Acura Stage

               

 

At 11:20 a.m., the audience at Acura Stage was loose but covered the expanse of the Acura Stage in anticipation of Sugarland. If Jazz Fest booked country on Saturday when people could travel from across the Gulf South more easily, I suspect everybody would be surprised by the numbers country bands can generate. Sugarland and Keith Urban (two years ago) packed it on a work day.

My day started and ended with Sugarland. I interviewed them at the Music Heritage Stage at 1:15, then saw their closing set. The interview brought me face-to-face with the charming intensity of country fans. Two women threw Kristian Bush homemade T-shirts commemorating Sugarland’s Jazz Fest show, and when I called for questions from the audience, the line at the microphone was 10-plus people long, all of whom wanted have their theories about the music confirmed or have Bush know how much the band’s music meant to them. Later at the show, even the people farthest from the stage were singing along or mouthing the words  - always a sign of how a band connects for me. They could be corny – the wigs Jennifer Nettles and Annie Clements wore during the encore cover of “Love Shack” – but I take seriously and appreciate any band with the pop aspirations to be big, the ability to then be big, and the discipline to pare the frills out of their songs until everything exists to support the singer delivering a lyric.

The nuttiest interaction between New Orleans and Sugarland didn’t come from area fans, Annie Clements or Travis McNabb. The band invited Mardi Gras Indians onstage for “That’s How I Like It,” and afterward Nettles and Bush posed for a photo with the Indians. One angled for the camera with little awareness of protocol or celebrity and obscured Nettles completely.

Twangorama opened with a quote from the National Anthem then segued into Led Zeppelin’s “Kashmir,” which seemed oddly appropriate.

Saw part of Doc Watson then Esperanza Spalding. Liked both but nothing stuck. 

Chris Owens’ interview was a visit to the glamor of the days of yore. Walter Winchell, Xavier Cugat, Rita Hayworth and a number of former mayors all played a part in her interview, leaving listeners to speculate on her age. Even if you estimate it generously, you still have to be impressed how little she shows the effects of aging in her gait, her movement and her mental acuity. While interviewer Peggy Scott Laborde was too discreet to ask Owens her age, she did ask her what her measurements are: 37-25-37.

Last night, the Continental Drifters played a lengthy reunion show at Carrollton Station. Things got a little loose in the second set, but the good-natured fun was something the Drifters rarely had onstage around the time of Better Day. Hopefully, that means we won’t have to wait another 8 years for another show.

               

 

I’m not feeling a lot of love for this day’s lineup, but here’s where I’ll try to be:

11:15 a.m. – Jamal Batiste & the Jam-Allstars – Gentilly Stage

11:15 a.m. – high school bands panel discussion

11:20 a.m. – Reggie Hall & the Twilighters – Congo Square

12:20 p.m. – Crocodile Gumboot Dancers of S. Africa – Blues Tent

12:25 p.m. – Zachary Richard – Acura Stage

12:25 p.m. – Rotary Downs – Gentilly Stage

12:30 p.m. – Cedric Watson & Bijou Creole – Fais Do-Do Stage

1:25 p.m. – Allen Toussaint interview – Music Heritage Stage

1:25 p.m. – Kidd Jordan with Al Fielder and the IAQ – Jazz Tent

1:40 p.m. – Buckwheat Zydeco’s 30th Anniversary – Acura Stage

1:40 p.m. – Bonerama – Gentilly Stage

(Okay, that stretch right there is pretty tough. I love Kidd and love the spectacle of jazz fans deciding they’ve dutifully watched someone they’re supposed to like long enough and bolt, and Buckwheat Zydeco’s going to perform with his 15-piece R&B band from the 1970s, Buckwheat and the Hitchhikers.)

2:40 p.m. – Ensemble Fatien feat. Seguenon Kone, Dr. Michael White and Jason Marsalis – Jazz Tent

3 p.m. – Roddie Romero and the Hub City All Stars – Fais Do-Do Stage

4:15 p.m. – Bobby Lounge w/ Sarah Quintana – Lagniappe Stage

4:55 p.m. – Kings of Leon – Gentilly Stage

5 p.m. – Bon Jovi – Acura Stage

               

 

Locals Thursday definitely felt like locals Thursday. Crowds were notably lighter, so much so that one woman on the track said, “This place is dead!” It wasn’t, but you could get close to almost any stage including Acura for headliner Ben Harper and the Restless7.

The day started with the Red Hawk Mardi Gras Indians, a tribe where all suits were equally beautiful and equally elaborate. No Wild Man. No Flag Boy. Just a row of Big Chief costumes. Something’s amiss.

 in the Music Heritage Stage with twin Cajun fiddling with Joel Savoy and David Greely. Greely’s efforts delving into the history of these songs make his discussions of them scholarly without being impersonal.

Caught some food and a series of set-ending or set-starting notes before returning to the Grandstand for the tribute to Snooks Eaglin with Allen Toussaint, George Porter, Jr. and Brint Anderson subbing for Hammond Scott. The high point had little to do with Snooks, though. As moderator Ben Sandmel played a track so people could hear Snooks in action, Toussaint played along with the track. The freedom in his playing and the obvious look of pleasure on his face suggested that this was him at this happiest – revisiting simpler times when he was just a piano player on a session.

The Meter Men set was ultimately unsatisfying, though I can’t question their funkiness or musicianship. But the classic Meters compositions are as intricate as clockwork with a series of interlocking parts, each necessary to make the song work. With the Meter Men, Zig and Porter hold it down while Leo Nocentelli goes off on chorus after chorus, soloing with a hard rock tone that was at odds with the beautiful source material. 

Kenny Bill Stinson’s set recalled Memphis’ Mud Boy and the Neutrons, Jim Dickinson’s Memphis rock band from the 1970s that clung the historical roots of the blues and rock ‘n’ roll without laying down their freak flag. Stinson loves classic rock ‘n’ roll, but not so much that he’s going to keep songs under three minutes. Fortunately, his soloing recalls Johnny Winter’s on Live Johnny Winter And - not in technique but in energy. And bringing out Steve Riley to join him on “Flozene” highlights the song’s swamp pop roots.

Ben Harper was generating an un-Ben Harper-like rock racket as I walked up, which I considered a promising sign. The Restless7 take Harper in a harder, less reefer-y direction. He was even standing up, wearing a blue checked shirt that seemed unfinished without a pocket protector. One new song echoed U2 as it slowly built intensity, but it built it very slowly and they took back down just at the point when the intensity was starting to get interesting. Harper’s attempt at reinvention was interesting, but it hadn’t come together yet.

The day ended with Solomon Burke’s thoroughly odd set, starting with the spectacle of Burke wearing a shiny purple suit in a pimped wheelchair, so large that it’s not clear if he’s reclining or if there’s simply so much of him that he appears to be reclining. His voice is still in remarkable condition and evidently, so is his fertility – 11 children and 90 grandchildren. Two daughters were onstage singing backing vocals – daughter Candy also sang lead on “I Will Survive” – and tending to Burke, toweling him off, cleaning his glasses, and popping something in his mouth. When Clarence Fountain, formerly of the Blind Boys of Alabama came out to sing a couple of songs, Burke played with his ponytail twice, the second time observing the difference in their hair styles.

There was a deeply weird control element in all of that, and the show would have been a circus if it hadn’t been for his voice, particularly on a brilliant version of “I Can’t Stop Loving You.” Later, he dedicated a song to “the Soul Clan” and named the soul greats that had passed on: Otis Redding, Joe Tex, Don Covay, Wilson Pickett and Percy Sledge – jumping the gun in the latter’s case because he’s not dead yet. Burke invited the audience to come on stage and dance, which was more complicated than it seemed at Congo Square. A verse and chorus later, 30 or so people made their way to the track, then behind the stage to the entrance, then up and on to the stage. The delay muted the effect a bit.

               

 

Today there’s an obstacle in my planning. I’m interviewing Sugarland’s Jennifer Nettles and Kristian Bush along with local bandmembers Annie Clements and Travis McNabb at 1:15 p.m. in the Allison Miner Music Heritage Stage. That jams me up for BeauSoleil, Frankie Ford and Truth Universal, who I was looking forward to seeing. So I recommend all three even if I won’t actually be there. What else might I see?

11:20 a.m. – the Chilluns – Acura Stage

11:25 a.m. – Drew Landry Band – Lagniappe Stage

12:20 p.m. – Clarinet Woodshed w/ Evan Christopher, Gregory Agid and Tim Laughlin – Jazz Tent

1:45 p.m. – Danza – Lagniappe Stage

2:45 p.m. – Doc Watson – Blues Tent

2:50 p.m. – John Boutte – Jazz Tent

3:30 p.m. – John Scofield interview w/ OffBeat contributor Steve Hochman – Allison Miner Music Heritage Stage

4:10 p.m. – Esperanza Spalding – Jazz Tent

4:15 p.m. – Patty Griffin – Fais Do-Do Stage

4:45 p.m. – Chris Owens  interview w/ Peggy Scott Laborde - Allison Miner Music Heritage Stage

5:30 p.m. – Sugarland – Acura Stage

5:40 p.m. – Musiq Soulchild – Congo Square

5:45 p.m. – John Scofield and the Piety Street Band – Blues Tent

               

If all goes as plans – and it never does – here’s where I’ll be:

11:15 a.m. – Jumpin’ Johnny Sansone – Blues Tent

11:45 a.m. – Cajun Twin Fiddling with Joel Savoy and David Greely – Allison Miner Music Heritage Stage

12:25 p.m. – Little Freddie King – Blues Tent

12:45 p.m. – Jeff & Vida – Gentilly Stage

1:40 p.m. – Creole Zydeco Farmers – Fais Do-Do Stage

1:40 p.m. – I’Voire Spectacle feat. Seguenon Kone – Congo Square

2:00 p.m. – Tribute to Snooks Eaglin with Allen Toussaint, George Porter, Jr. and Hammond Scott – Allison Miner Music Heritage Stage

2:05 p.m. – Theresa Andersson – Gentilly Stage

2:55 p.m. – Steve Riley and the Mamou Playboys – Fais Do-Do Stage

3:35 p.m. – The Meter Men: Leo, Zig and George  - Acura Stage

4:10 p.m. – Alex McMurray – Lagniappe Stage

4:25 p.m. – Kenny Bill Stinson and the ARK-LA Mystics

4:25 p.m. – Mark Braud and the New Orleans Jazz Giants

5:25 p.m. – Emmylou Harris – Gentilly Stage

5:30 p.m. – Ben Harper and Restless7 – Acura Stage

5:45 p.m. – Solomon Burke – Congo Square

               

A little cloud cover and a little breeze made Sunday much nicer than Saturday, which bordered on unpleasant because of the heat and crowds. I walked by Jake Smith (Acura Stage) playing sons-of-Dave-Matthews acoustic rock that was more engaging than his album, and E.O.E. (Congo Square) who impressed me with easy, worldly grooves and their rapper’s flow. I was interested in the drummer’s Spanish rapping as well, but his Latin beats left a little to be desired. Joe Hall and the Cane Cutters’ two fiddles and accordion attack also held my attention – all three subjects for further study. Wayne Toups, by the way, one-upped Joe Hall with three fiddlers onstage at one time.

On Friday, Christian Serpas’ gift for traditional country songs phrased with traditional cleverness were engaging. Sunday, songwriter Jim McCormick performed the modern incarnation of those songs – still defined by a turn of the phrase or a play on words, but with  a note of suburban, middle class nostalgia that is strong in country music these days. After McCormick played “Louisiana,” it was hard to believe that Tim McGraw’s version didn’t become a hit.

Surprise of the day was Kinky, the Mexican tech-savvy dance rock band that pointed a possible direction for New Orleans bands willing to see it. They never sold out their culture, but they weren’t limited by it either, making modern music with modern tools. Their version of “Mexican Radio” interacted with Wall of Voodoo’s recording, with singer Gil Cerezo swapping verses with the pre-recorded Stan Ridgway. Their dynamics came from old school hip-hop, and the bass throb is straight out of British rave pop. In a city as culturally complex as New Orleans, it’s exciting to imagine a contemporary music that reflects its present as much as its past.

Wandered. A little Better Than Ezra, New Orleans R&B All-Star Revue, Pine Leaf Boys. Nothing new or special to say about any of them, particularly after seeing the Avett Brothers. They were the weekend’s other revelation (with Kinky) as they played folk without the usual folk music piety. Nothing suggested that they saw what they did as something purer or more beautiful than anything else, or that it was a higher, more sincere, more sacred music. That meant that humor and sober reflection were on equal footing, and the lovely moments were privileged over the times when they made perfectly good guitars sound like they cost $45 at Toys R Us. And when folk singers inadvertently make themselves sound like each other in a host of ways, the Avetts made their personality their calling card, letting their playing, their words and their voices be distinctive and unique to them.

It was interesting to see how many people were excited to see the Dave Matthews Band, but how few visual signs of enthusiasm there were. For the middle hour, there was little dancing, few fists in the air and minimal grooving. People were happy to be there, but it wasn’t obvious why.