Songs I Love, Part XIII: “Arianne” Aaron Neville

Let me start with a personal anecdote (as if that’s something unusual that I haven’t done before . . . too many times.)

I attended the New Orleans JazzFest for the first time in 1976, and made it down there once again before that decade ended. Then I had some personal life changes that made it unwise for a number of years to tempt myself with the treasures of the Crescent City. But, in 1988, I was lured back by the prospect of experiencing the Little Feat reunion. With Bonnie Raitt, sitting in on slide guitar, be still my beating heart. On the marvelous Steamship President no less, always a boffo experience on the Mighty Mississippi.

Having been away from the festival for years, I couldn’t get enough. Even with music playing simultaneously on 10 stages in the Fairground’s infield  from noon til dark on three consecutive days. It was as if I needed to hear every group. From Al Green to Hank Ballard & Midnighters to Los Lobos to Earl King to Hackberry Ramblers to Fairfield Four to John Mooney to Salif Keita to Exuma to Henry Butler to Famous Rocks of Harmony to Leo Nocentelli to  . . . okay, you get the picture.

As has become tradition, the Neville Brothers closed the festival on the Fess stage Sunday afternoon.

Early in the set, Brother Aaron broke into a song I’d never heard him sing before, “Arianne,” with just Brother Art playing simple keyboard chording in the background.

What came out was this:

The song isn’t especially complicated or unique. The lyrics are more than a bit mundane, even silly. But when Aaron’s voice started swooping and soaring about halfway through, I was stunned beyond comprehension, my spinal cord turned to jelly.

When the song was over, even though the Nevilles hadn’t really kicked in gear yet, even though I had hoped to slip over to a couple of other stages for a taste of Dr. John and Willie Tee, I had had enough. For the first time in my life, I was sated. Totally. I did not need nor did I want at that moment to hear another note.

I walked to the car, and sat in quietude, savoring the glory of what I’d just heard. When my pals arrived an hour or so later, I was still smiling, knowing I’d been transported somewhere beyond anyplace I’d been before.

I’ve only missed one JazzFest since.