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Last night in Memphis
Tonight in New Orleans

That’s right, I’m with the band. Where we all want to be.

If you don’t know Little Big Town’s “The Road To Here,” you’re unaware of the best Fleetwood Mac album the legendary band didn’t cut.

Oh, they played their megahit “Pontoon.” Even the minor smash “Tornado.” But what made my day was those tracks from the “The Road To Here,” “Bones” and “Boondocks,” and…”I’m With The Band.”

I’d be lying if I told you the crowd in front of the Acura Stage cared. They were all just camped out for Fleetwood Mac. En masse.

Reminded me of nothing so much of that night back in the sixties when I was crushed at a Chambers Brothers concert at Boston Common. Get squished once, you never forget it, you know it can happen again. Maybe Jazz Fest is too successful. If someone cried FIRE, even if there was none, at least a score of people would be trampled, that’s just how tight it was.

And I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention Little Big Town’s countrified cover of “Born This Way.” That got the somnambulant audience going.

But it was “I’m With The Band” that made my day, that made me feel privileged to be in attendance, pondering how far I’ve come and how far I still have to go.

Lord I was born with a suitcase in my hand
Living in a life that few could understand
Sometimes it gets so confusing that I don’t know where I am
But I always know who I’m with
I’m with the band

That’s the magic. When the guitars start to twang and the voices begin to soar. We’re lifted out of our seats, onto our feet, we can’t help but sing along.

And unlike Maroon 5, Little Big Town is forever. Because they had another hit, the aforementioned “Pontoon,” and unlike pop, and the new rock, country never forgets.

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Along about eighteen twenty five
I left Tennessee very much alive
And I never would have got through the Arkansas mud
If I hadn’t been a’ridin’ that Tennessee stud

Jimmy Driftwood wrote it, the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band did the definitive version with Doc Watson, but the Little Willies performed it this afternoon.

Songs last.

And they’re not the ones that make the hit parade so much as those that infect musicians, who keep them alive.

3

If it keeps on rainin’, levee’s gonna break

Come on, it’s my second favorite Led Zeppelin song, after “Ten Years Gone” and maybe “Battle Of Evermore.” It’s the headbanging riff and the drums!

And that’s the one thing that Galactic could not replicate.

Still, today the rain finally stopped. But this is the land of levees, the original was done by Memphis Minnie and Kansas Joe. And to hear that harmonica and those lyrics is to get your body swaying back and forth, like you’re running the river with Huck Finn, like nothing matters other than this moment.

I heard no more from Galactic, but this was enough.

4

The Preservation Hall Jazz Band was better than billed. It was the energy, the dancing, the fun!

Once upon a time we didn’t dance to electronics, but real instruments and people. The Preservation Hall Jazz Band will remind you of that era.

5

I’d be lying if I told you the highlight of Phoenix’s performance was the band.

It was FRANCIS FORD COPPOLA! Sitting right there, next to his daughter and grandkids.

This is the guy who did “Godfather” and “Godfather II,” possibly the best two flicks in the canon. He was relaxed, taking in his son-in-law’s band, but I couldn’t stop thinking about his brain…”Apocalypse Now,” how did he come up with all that? Musicians are not the only living legends.

And sure, I’d talk to Spielberg.

I’ve stood next to George Lucas.

But they’re the Stones.

Francis Ford Coppola is THE BEATLES!

And Phoenix radiated energy and managed to enthrall the crowd by being themselves, which is so different from the rest of the hit parade, who strive to sound just like everybody else.

It was the synths…

And the drummers.

Two. Who were so powerful I think they might have been able to replicate John Bonham’s parts.

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Last night I went to a party at Terence Blanchard’s house.

He lives on a main rue in the Garden District, an edifice so spacious and spectacular you ponder moving to New Orleans yourself.

And when he stood up and blew with Dee Dee Bridgewater and Shelly Berg I got those goose bumps you feel when you’re in the presence of greatness.

And just like that Joni Mitchell song, they were doing it all for free. Yup, the public pays, their friends get a glimpse for nothing.

And like everybody has e-mailed me, there’s seemingly more music after the festival than during it.

Tonight I got invited to see the Black Crowes with their new guitarist, Jackie Greene.

There’s a party at a bowling alley.

There’s multifarious bands on Frenchmen Street.

More than you can partake of.

I’m gonna have to come back!

(But I’ve still got one more day to go!)

Monica said she just recorded it in Spanish.

What was the name of the track again?

“Maybe It’s You.”

Don’t know it.

But then twenty minutes later it came up again, and this time I heard it correctly, she sang IT MIGHT BE YOU!

It took just that long for the synapses to fire, to remember the Stephen Bishop number. You remember, from “Tootsie”!

That’s what Mitch said. I referenced the suit Bish wore on the Oscars, which looked like paint had been dripped upon it, and Mitch just remembered the red dress Dustin Hoffman wore in the movie. He started reminiscing about a flick from thirty years ago, which we all know so well.

Isn’t it funny how the shoot-em-ups make all the money, but it’s those that touch our hearts that truly live on.

And I know Bish.

Used to see him all the time at Harold’s house. We connected over women. We were both single, me freshly separated, Stephen never married, with great insight and a good sense of humor. You see these people on stage, you hear them on the radio, you’ve got no idea what they’re truly like. Then you meet them and you realize THEY’RE JUST LIKE YOU! Only a lot more successful.

You remember “On and On”. Which I always mixed up in my mind with Rupert Holmes’ “Pina Colada Song” (formally known as “Escape”), even though they’re very different, but they were both AM hits when everybody listened to the FM, everybody hip, but both were about…being away.

Down in Jamaica they got lots of pretty women
Steal your money then they break your heart

“On and On” is one of those tracks you think is too wimpy when it’s a hit and then years later you realize it’s truly magic, especially when you find out the guy who wrote and sang it is anything but wimpy.

But Bishop didn’t write “It Might Be You.” The music was by Dave Grusin, the lyrics by Alan and Marilyn Bergman. But it sounds just like him! Most people are stunned to find out he didn’t write it.

Then again, he delivers it.

But the production is key, it sounds like a TV theme, anything but rock and roll. The way it starts quietly, coming over the hill, it makes you think of a sitcom, like “Mary Tyler Moore.” And then there are the accents, which you sing along to, when you hear the track and know they represent “Maybe it’s you,” which is sung over and over again later in the song.

And the verses are meaningful, but sappy.

Then there’s the chorus…

Something’s telling me it might be you
It’s telling me it might be you

MIGHT! You know the feeling, when you’re talking to somebody the first time and you get that feeling, somewhere in your upper chest, THIS COULD BE THE ONE!

And when you leave the engagement you’re walking on air, basking in the euphoria of the connection. The next day is a complete write-off, all you can do is think of them. You’re in your own mind and you love it. You’d almost rather not call or text or e-mail, for fear the spell will be broken.

But it’s the end of the song that truly resonates, the aforementioned “Maybe it’s yous”

Maybe it’s you
Maybe it’s you
I’ve been waiting for all of my life

I’ve been waiting for so long, barking up trees, kissing frogs, but finally…I might have found the one.

Maybe it’s you
Maybe it’s you
I’ve been waiting for all of my life

This is the essence. This is what the song sounds like. Hope. That a better life is coming down the pike. That while you were just minding your own business your whole life became complete.

And every time you listen to the track, you love it more.

Because of the foreshadowing.

The wandering verses.

And the resolution.

Great music is not about genres. It’s about songs, production and performance.

And life isn’t about achievements, but feelings.

And when I listen to “It Might Be You” I feel like life is made to work out. That when you’re down and out it’ll surprise you. Just maybe…

Rhinofy-It Might Be You

Previous Rhinofy playlists

There was this chick from Belgrade who positively wailed!

Yes, I said “chick,” get over it, that’s what the girls say, it’s not a pejorative. And she was in a slinky red dress and was squeezing out the notes like a modern day Van Halen and with her horn section and backup singers she had the Blues Tent enthralled. That’s the power of live music, something too many people don’t get to experience now that clubs have gone canned and everybody overcharges.

I won’t say all the performers were fantastic, but the Gospel Tent lives up to its rep. You’re ready to convert on the spot. Irma Thomas played to more than a packed house, they were stacked outside the gate…take that Sahara Tent!

But my favorite was Jerry Douglas.

It was hard to get close to him, the stage he played upon was engulfed in mud. But he set my mind a-driftin’ and that’s what I like most about music, when it puts me in a reflective mood, contemplating the past and pondering the future as the clouds roll in over the Pontchartrain…

Clouds…

It did rain this morning.

But it was followed by extreme cold. You know, the kind you get on the Cape in September, when you want it to be summer, but no amount of willin’ will make it so.

And Maroon 5…

Made me feel old.

Not because the music was so new and fresh, but because I’ve seen it before. Headliners come and go, the journeymen play on.

In other words, ten years from now Maroon 5 won’t be at Jazz Fest, but so many on the undercard will be.

Still, the crowd was frightening. There’s gonna be a Cincinnati moment at one of these festivals one of these days. Hell, it already happened in Europe. And the promoters are gonna throw their hands in the air and say it never occurred to them, there’s nothing they can do.

But that’s B.S.

But the highlight of Jazz Fest is the food.

I had a pulled pork Po-Boy that was delish.

As was the Natchitoches Meat Pie.

Everybody in L.A. doesn’t eat. More important than your bank account is your figure. Oh, you can spend hundreds on a meal, you just won’t get much, just the privilege of being able to say you ate there.

But Louisiana food is for those with appetites. Who believe in texture and flavor. And what else are we living for if it isn’t great food and aural pleasure?

P.S. That blues act was Ana Popovic & Mo’ Better Love, read about her here:

Ana Popovic

P.P.S. Also exceptional was Grayson Capps, at the Lagniappe Stage.

P.P.P.S. Festivals are helping bring us back to the garden, they allow the hoi polloi to partake of so much at the smorgasbord. But we’ve got to find a way to get the general public in the habit of seeing these acts live in their own communities. Movies are good at home, live music is not. And live music is an irreplaceable sensation that satiates in a way no other amusement can. But somehow greed and fame have trumped the essence. Nurture the essence, good times will return.

Rubber boots.

They should put that on the website, print it on the tickets, that’s the one thing you need more than your appetite and your ears at Jazz Fest, RUBBER BOOTS!

Come on, you’ve seen the Woodstock movie, heard its album, with the chant of “No Rain! No Rain!” Well I’ve been living in Southern California so damn long I forgot that it precipitates elsewhere. I’m just stunned every live event isn’t indoors or in SoCal.

So I’m exiting the Widespread Panic show…

Whoa, let’s stop there. I’m standing on the side of the stage as this two plus decade old concoction of musicians pours its sound over the thousands in attendance. That’s why you do it, not for the money, not for the fame, there’s nowhere else you can get that rush.

And as I’m walking to our vehicle I’m confronted with a sea of mud, not the “Sea Of Madness” that Neil Young sang about so eloquently at 1969’s legendary rock festival, but maybe it was. You know that feeling, when the only way out is through? That’s what it was like.

But if you’re thinking getting your shoes and trousers dirty is the worst crime, you’re mistaken. You see there are snakes in that mud, that reach up and pull your shoes right off! You suddenly realize why so many are going barefoot. They crossed this sea of ooze and when they stepped up, there was a giant sucking sound, their shoes were pulled under.

That’s what I was worried about. That not only my shoes, but my whole damn body would be pulled beneath the earth and reside forevermore in New Orleans.

That’s where I am. Just a couple of blocks from Bourbon Street.

And you know what’s great about Bourbon Street? The people! They haven’t got ugly, lumpy, imperfect people in Los Angeles, they’re stopped at the border, like in “The Grapes Of Wrath.” But here in Louisiana I came in contact with the real America, one that descends to the southern tip of our country to let loose, because while those on the coast are pursuing their career dreams, those in the middle know it’s about having fun, and that’s what you do in New Orleans, party.

And the food!

Yesterday it was fried oysters and soft-shell crab.

Today it was fried alligator and pork cheek terrine. If you’re the type who needs pictures, try these:

Fried alligator for lunch. Mmm!

Pork cheek terrine.

Lunch was at Cochon. Where I saw Patti Smith enter just before we left. Before we went back to the hotel to get umbrellas to deal with the downpour.

As for Jazz Fest itself… It’s about music! What a concept!

That’s not what the press is about. The press is all about money and fame. But most of the acts at Jazz Fest have neither. So they can just wail for the fun of it.

The Gospel Tent lives up to its legend. There’s just something about a score of people singing from their hearts, exuding joy, it’s contagious.

And there’s blues, folk and jazz, and even headliners.

And I don’t know what the future of music in America is. There’s none in the schools and most of it’s whored out product made to be sold to corporations. But there’s something refreshing having the sound pour over you and knowing that that’s it, that’s all you’re gonna get, that it’s not about virality, spreading the word, but listening.

Listen To The Music (it’s a reference to the second Doobie Brothers album in case you don’t get the reference)

Bourbon Street (where I heard a band cover “You Never Give Me Your Money” almost as good as McCartney, and I saw a dude doing such a good karaoke job with “Some Kind Of Wonderful” if you closed your eyes you’d have thought it was Mark Farner)