No luggage. No lodging. Just livin'...24 hours straight in the Big Easy Essence Fest weekend.
7:58 am Friday July 2, 2010 Land at Louis Armstrong International Airport, the only airport named after a jazz musician. Might be the only one named after a musician period. I’ve been napping upright off and on since this journey began before dawn 3 ½ hours ago. I’ve got a slight headache and probably need a mint. But I’m rested.
8:45 am The world’s friendliest cab driver (his name is Luis) has been telling us stories about his family and the city since we left the airport. I love the stories. I ask him to drop me and Candice off in the Marigny, an area I had not explored in my previous three trips to New Orleans. I’d heard, read, watched, and listened to so many wonderful things about the French Quarter adjacent neighborhood that I had to get a taste.
We’re standing in front of La Peniche, anticipating some Cajun breakfast. Sign on the door, “It’s vacation time! Closed until July 15.” Goodness…these folks know how to break! No worries. We stroll on.
8:59 am At the Marigny Brasserie. Corner of Royal and Frenchmen. I place an order for the Bayou omelet (crawfish, green onions, havarti cheese). Many of the dishes feature crawfish on this menu…crawfish quesadilla, crawfish cakes, crawfish dressing…
10:44 am I just spent the last ten minutes speaking to a vendor at the French Market (outdoor flea market). He was selling homemade coasters with pictures of local eccentricities and telling me wonderful stories about Ernie K-Doe, and how he (the vendor) had his bachelor party at the Mother-in-Laws. The guy has a great accent. And I did buy two coasters from him. Really appreciated listening to him.
11:04 am Still in the French Market. Just bought some magnetized hematite jewelry. Also bought another bracelet, all for $10. Told Candice that we have to not look at anything else because the money spending has been happening too close together.
11:09 am Sippin’ on a hurricane from the Gazebo Café near the French Market.
11:42 am Buy $4.89 worth of Mississippi Mud from Laura’s Candy Factory, established 1913. The black woman working in the shop said she is not Laura, she is Laura’s helper. She’s also wearing a platinum blonde wig.
11:48 am Tossed out half of the hurricane. It’s 90-something degrees out here. Heat and alcohol don’t mix.
12:01 pm Walk past Keith Sweat in the Hilton. Looking a lot better than when we saw him at Essence 2007.
12:04 pm Sitting outside the bathroom inside of the Hilton Riverside waiting for Candice. It’s been about four hours since we’ve been in New Orleans. And so far it’s been good. If there was anything that I would complain about—or not even to really complain about but—it’s muggy and it’s warm and it’s hot out. But then again, it’s July, so what was I expecting? So, but it’s good. We’re not miserable at all. We just gotta balance walking around outside with walking through the casino or the hotel or a restaurant where it’s nice and air conditioned.
We’re about to head over to the Riverside Mall. Catch up on some beignets and then we’ll probably walk on down to the convention center. Taking our time getting down there. No big rush. That’s how it is here. Take your time.
12:30 pm Beignets and milk at Café du Monde in Riverside Marketplace.
12:55 pm First “Who dat” reference.
1:05 pm Jumped by makeup promotional team in the Marketplace. Girl did one eyebrow. Said she’d do the other for $7. We left.
1:15 pm Arrive at the convention center for free Essence activities.
1:23 pm Cupid is on one of the stages, leading folks through a live performance of “Cupid Shuffle.”
1:25 pm Dancing to a brass band onstage across from Cupid.
1:38 pm Second “who dat” reference, this time from the brass band’s version of “Saints.”
2:45 pm Keith Sweat is on one of the many stages inside the convention center, giving one heck of a show. He looks good with meat on him.
4:11 pm Essence seminar about love and relationships. Panelists include Hill Harper, Lamman Rucker…and Mr. Marcus. Yes, Mr, Marcus. And he did have his hat and some sneakers on…
5:53 pm Savoring bread pudding at Mulate’s with my eyes closed. Decadence on a plate.
6:40 pm Hanging out on Bourbon Street—sippin’, dancin’, people watchin’.
8:25 pm Some acquaintances are having a get together “off the strip” on Barracks. I know where Barracks is, so we decide to walk there. We’re strolling along, not realizing we’ve wandered out of the Quarter and into Treme, which was cool, just didn’t realize that’s where we were…till we hit Treme Street. Buddy said they were right off the strip…what strip?
8:27 pm “Y’all walkin’? Oh I thought y’all would’ve taken a cab. That’s too far to walk,” my contact says over the cell phone. “Well you said it was right off the strip.” “I meant, off-off the strip.”
8:33 pm Trying to find a cab in Treme is not an easy task.
8:40 pm We’ve been sitting on somebody’s stoop for the last several minutes. No cab. Decide to walk up a few blocks to where this seems more feasible.
8:55 pm Finally catch a cab off Claiborne. Funny, I recognize this overpass from the Treme HBO series.
8:56 pm The cab driver doesn’t know where Barracks is. I, the visitor, the one who liveth not here, has to direct him.
9:05 pm “So you’re gonna knock a couple dollars off this cab fare, right? All these U-turns…”
9:15 pm Finally find our destination. Tell the cabbie to pick us up at 10 to take us to the Superdome for the Janet Jackson concert.
9:30 pm Chillin’ with some very hospitable folks.
10:00 pm No cabbie.
10:05 pm No cabbie.
10:10 pm Hop in the car with one of the folks, who will drop us at the Superdome.
10:33 pm Arrive at Superdome.
10:55 pm Finally in our $200 floor seats. Not as close as I thought.
11:39 pm Janet takes the stage.
12:20 am Saturday July 3, 2010 No Michael Jackson tribute yet, and my $200 seats in the mid back of the orchestra ain’t feelin’ worth the money. Not because of her performance but because I still have to rely on a Jumbotron…with $200 seats!
12:31 am Okay…for me, a good concert is when I can get something that I can’t get from the CD or a video. And so far, I ain’t gettin’ that from Janet.
1:05 am Some wild, orgy mess is going down onstage.
1:23 am “Rhythm Nation.” Is she gonna do every song she’s got? (Okay, so I’m not the biggest JJ fan in the world…just wanted the superstar concert experience...)
1:30 am “Together Again” performance featuring pics of Janet and Michael together. Nice, subtle tribute. Not what I was expecting, but appropriate nonetheless.
1:38 am Show over.
2:08 am Walk past street fest on Loyola on Poydras. I’d really like to hit up Snug Harbor and Frenchmen Street and hear some jazz but it’s late and my companion is rapidly losing her will to keep her eyes open. In other words, now ain’t the time to try new-to-me spots. Need a sure-thing for the next couple hours. Back to Bourbon Street.
3:24 am Dancing to the live band inside Sing Sing… ”Stir it Up,” “I’ll Take You There.” The little blonde sistah’s band is here again. Love them.
3:45 am “Purple Rain.” I’m officially happy. Again.
5:28 am Eating pancakes and mozzarella sticks inside a packed IHOP on Canal.
5:53 am Leaving IHOP. The sun is coming up.
6:15 am Catch a cab to the airport.
8:30 am Fly out of New Orleans.
My thoughts on the staying awake for 24-hours, guerilla traveling with nothing but a tote bag adventure? Overall, it was cool. The day was rich and dense without being rushed, which is what I was going for. An Essence Fest/New Orleans sampler.
I actually didn’t get sleepy. However, if I get the itch for an abbreviated Essence Music Fest trip again, I would do it a little differently. The day would start later, not with me flying out of Orlando at 5:30 am. More like noon. Hit the ground about 2 pm and basically keep the schedule the same from there. Since I envision many extended trips to N.O. in my future, a quickie here and there ain’t bad.
Read these too!
Eat, Drink, and Be Merry...Christmas in New Orleans
Monday, July 5, 2010
Friday, June 25, 2010
Michael, Janet, Pac, and Black Music Month
Well, I've got to get my 10 cents in before Black Music Month 2010 is history. So here's a hodge podge of what's been on my mind musically:
The Jacksons
Exactly one week from today, I'll be attending what I believe to be the first Janet Jackson concert since Michael passed away a year ago today. I had no idea the dates were so close.
This time last year, I was driving home from work, holding my breath, waiting for Michael Baisden to give the update. When the news came, so did the tears. If you missed my post, check out "The King Has Left the Building."
The decision to go see Janet this year at the Essence Music Festival was spontaneous. I never really thought about going to see her perform. I've never owned a Janet Jackson album. I've never had a JJ cut blasting in my car with the windows down. A couple of her songs were hot, "Again,""Come Back to Me," and the one she did with Busta Rhymes. But other than that, the whispery, unintelligible lyrics of her songs don't speak to me.
Yet, she's a member of the most famous musical family in the world and in her own right, has spent decades building a sexy, mysterious, brazen, and often imitated persona. It's the stuff of legend, which is reason enough for me to check out her show.
On the Relevance of Tupac
"June 1-6-7-1, the day mama pushed me out her womb, told me n***a get paid..."
Just a couple weeks ago on June 16, a friend inquired on my Facebook wall, about my lack of Happy Birthday Tupac shout out. I remembered his birthday was coming up for days, so it wasn't negligence. The shout out just wasn't something I was going to go out of my way to do, as I have done in the past.
I fell in love with hip hop in the 90s when "Dear Mama" came out. I had it on cassette tape single, back when singles used to come in little cardboard sleeves and cost 99 cents. For the next ten years or so, I repped Tupac and everybody knew it. I remember where I was when he died, and I was one of those people that connected the dots between songs and album covers to prove that maybe, just maybe, he was chillin' on an island in the Pacific. I loved that he was a poet. I loved that he was sensitive. It made him different from other rappers.
In high school, I bought a black light responsive poster made out of felt that said, "2Pac Forever." It displayed one of Pac's darkest poems, "In the Event of My Demise." That poster has been displayed everywhere I've lived since I was 18. Last weekend, I rolled it up so I could use the frame for something else.
I don't want to say it's because I've matured, because listening to Pac, or hip hop in general, does not make one immature. There's a lot of talent in the rap game. I still nod my head and sing the lyrics to "How Do You Want It," "I Get Around," and "Keep Your Head Up" when those songs bump through the speakers. And on rough days at work, I sometimes put on my headphones, block out the world, and blast "Krazy" from the Makaveli album.
For me, I've simply diversified my portfolio, altered my diet. More instruments, less ignorance. More poetry, less profanity. More beauty, less booty.
More Music Miscellany...
Concerts Attended in the Last 6 Months
Aretha Franklin
I've made it my business to see the senior set of performers whenever I can. After all, we just don't know how long these folks are gonna be around. But listen, there's nothing about Ms. Franklin that says she's got one foot in the grave. At 68 years old, girlfriend had her long weave blowing in the breeze and cracked jokes about watching Maxwell perform and playfully regretting that she wasn't wearing any panties to toss onstage during his show.
And of course, she's still got the voice.
Bettye LaVette
I first learned of Bettye LaVette at least 5 or 6 years ago while watching an HBO program filmed at Morgan Freeman's Ground Zero blues club in Mississippi. Freeman interviewed various blues musicians and each musician performed a set. I remembered how Ms. LaVette said as a teenager, she just couldn't sit down and accept a formal education. She wanted to sing. There's something about that whole blues scene--that smoky little hole in the wall club, slow draggin' patrons, the raspy notes, the emotion, the "my baby left me's," the smooth talkers--that I find intriguing. And at 64, Ms. LaVette was swinging her hips and showing us all that you can still be 60 and sexy.
Robin Thicke "Sex Therapy"
Stanley Turrentine "Look Out"
Grant Green "Green Street"
I would drive 500 miles to see...
Prince
Sade
I would drive 10 miles to see...
Erykah Badu (again)
Jay-Z (again)
Lionel Richie (again)
Wynton Marsalis
Related Articles
"For the Love of Music"
Monday, June 14, 2010
Find You Find Love: The Desire for Desires
“Boredom: the desire for desires”
-Leo Nikolaevich Tolstoy
11. What bores you? What always bores you? And what never bores you?
(See the Find You, Find Love post for context.)
Ummm...I don't get bored.
Seriously.
I've actually known this for a long time and have expressed it to other people. I've got 99 problems and boredom ain't one. Doesn't mean I'm enamored by mandatory meetings, excited about traffic, or riveted by lengthy lines and long-winded speeches. When in a situation I can't leave, my brain snaps into daydream mode (which for me is a very satisfying pastime, considering there's an ongoing plenary discussion inside my head).
But as far as sitting at home, bored...with good health, a vehicle, a TV, a cell phone, a pile of books, an appetite, and a handful of unfinished crafty projects?
Does not compute.
“The cure for boredom is curiosity," Ellen Parr said. Apparently folks left curiosity behind in their youth, back when we made up games to play alone or with friends, back when we explored the backyard and the attic, searching for nothing but the thrill of discovery, back when a long bike ride was the treasure of a summer day.
In fact, when people declare their boredom, I would imagine it's like a slap in the face to God, like saying, "I'm alive and I have no idea what to do with myself." It's ungrateful. How many people are rotting in their graves who would have wished for a few more days above ground, while you're bored with life?
The chief offenders—no disrespect to the senior set--are the bored retirees. My head refuses to wrap around the idea of money in the bank, freedom to spend my time as I please, and not loving every second of it. Are we so conditioned to being told what to do for 40-plus hours a week that we can't entertain ourselves? Retirement is wasted on the retired.
"Children that spend their whole day being taxied from one organized play date to another organized baseball game, they never learn that they can have experiences unmediated by adults," said author Ayelet Waldman in an interview with Terry Gross. “I am kind of terrified about the idea of a world governed by these people who've never had to govern themselves." While Waldman is talking about modern-day childhood, her point can apply to adults who don't use their resources and imagination to satisfy their own time.
Karolvig Viggo Mortensen said it best: "There's no excuse to be bored. Sad, yes. Angry, yes. Depressed, yes. Crazy, yes. But there's no excuse for boredom, ever.”
You will also surely enjoy:
"Find You, Find Love: Till Death Do Us Part...No Murder Involved"
"Worth the Woo"
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
