The State of JazzFest: Is It Too Big?

Posted: May 5th, 2015 | Filed under: Culture, Music, Ruminations | 4 Comments »

jazzfest2As much as wish I may, wish I might, no longer is it possible to amble around the green meadow of the Fairgrounds infield on an April afternoon, come upon a slightly raised 10×15 platform, and savor the sound of a previously unknown (to me), grizzled piano master with a starred patch over one eye.

James Booker is long gone, if the memory of that moment decades ago is still strong.

Nor shall I be enchanted by the mellifluous voice of the Tan Canary. Johnny Adams, RIP.

The same for Snooks and Danny Barker,  and Ms. Mahalia.

And, Longhair whistling his way through one of his many iconic tunes, with Gatemouth sitting in on guitar.

Many — most — of the greats, who fashioned the New Orleans music that Bonnie Raitt has called, “America’s greatest gift to the world,” are but memories.

Fats, hanging on, but old and on the way out, won’t be gigging anymore. There’s Toussaint, and a few others from the halcyon R & B days, and that’s about it.

All that I understand. And accept.

It’s nature’s way.

New Orleans music. New Orleans itself. They are not what they used to be.

Nothing is. Life changes. Cultures evolve.

So it is, so it must be, with the annual rite of the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival, the celebration I and many others cherish beyond anything else in life, an extravaganza that’s been called, by someone more articulate than myself, “the gravitational pull of the year.”

There are new young Turks emerging. Shamarr and Stanton. The Bonearama ‘bones. A next generation Neville or Batiste. Earnest and ready, Earphunk respectfully and energetically merges rock and funk. In a town where playing in the school band is as big an honor as roaming the gridiron, there comes one new brass band after another, with hip hop part of the deal. Zydeco continues to evolve from its Chenierian routes.

Traditional New Orleans jazz — known just about everywhere else as Dixieland — has never left. Lionel Ferbes lives in the tuneage.

Rituals remain. Customs converge.

In New Orleans, only the beignets served across from Jackson Square at Cafe du Monde, haven’t changed in the last century and a half. Okay, and the spirit of Fats Waller and Louis Moreau Gottschalk in the playing of Toussaint and Dr. John.

* * * * *

So it would be silly and naive of me, wish I may wish I might, to believe that JazzFest can ever be as bucolic and local as it once was. That it can stay tried and true to its origins as a showcase for Crescent City and Louisiana music and heritage.

But, but, but . . . Pitbull. Bon Jovi. Half the Who. Eagles. Florence & the Machine.

Sound cranked so loud on the big stages, Roger Daltry’s aging, sad, off key version of “My Generation” , can be heard, not only in the Jazz, Gospel and Blues tents, but at Parkway Bakery.

Crowds so large for acts with hardly a connection to New Orleans like Elton John and DMB that fans, claustrophobic, get scared, feel the need to escape.

I’ve always felt compelled to be tolerant of the big name acts. The reality of today’s music scene — or so it is said — requires their presence so the festival can continue. That the moolah from Shell Oil and Acura — bless them both for their generous corporate sponsorship — isn’t enough. That the lame musical meanderings of Widespread Panic, and the amped vivacity of Springsteen are necessary.

The photo of Acura Stage during Elton John’s set on 2d weekend Saturday is scary. I am grateful I wasn’t at the Fest that day. Imagine what it would be like, if the Stones actually played the fest one year.

So, it’s going to be interesting, at least to me, a 28 year JazzFest veteran, to see where it goes from here. Whether the public outcries for downsizing will be heard? Or, if the Heritage Foundation, flush with profits to do its good deeds, will tell Festival Productions and its national partners, damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead. That bigger than ever is better.

I am not naive. The nature of this beast is not to diet.

The days of two stepping in a dance area at Fais Do Do are gone. Being able to listen intently at Economy Hall or the Jazz Tent, without sound bleed, a thing of the past.

Which leaves it up to each of us with a long history at the Fest to decide: Is it still worth it?

For many, most, the answer is obviously Yes! Some JazzFest pals from Connecticut, four year vets, had a dozen newbies this year. They all were smitten, despite the first weekend’s rain and muck. A friend from Louisville, came with his bride and adult son, first timers, and declared his intention to try and make it every year from now on.

Maybe my perspective is jaded.

I dunno.

I plan to return again next year. As long as I can hear Toussaint and the Klezmers and young up and comers in the Kids Tent, Big Sam sittin’ in with Flow Tribe, one more version of “Milenburg Joys” at Economy Hall, and, yes, a set as scintillating at Tedeschi Trucks played, though their connection to NO is admittedly tenuous, I guess I haven’t been squeezed out yet by Tony Bennett.

But if this opinionated tome should wend its way into the conscience of the JazzFest powers that be, I pray they consider that less in the future might be more.

 


4 Comments on “The State of JazzFest: Is It Too Big?”

  1. 1 Dough said at 11:29 am on May 5th, 2015:

    The quality of this reflective piece is an expression of your pure passion for the event.
    Even I lament the loss of two stepping at Fais Do Do.

  2. 2 Wildcat said at 12:21 pm on May 5th, 2015:

    A heartfelt acknowledgment that time always produces great change. And when it changes something we love, the pain is always felt more deeply

  3. 3 ken said at 10:13 am on May 6th, 2015:

    the good times will learn to keep on rollin’, even if the “Big Wheel” that keeps on rollin’ gets bigger… but bigger wheels have fewer rpm’s while they deliver more power.
    Louisville Gardens to Freedom Hall to the Yum!… the only constant is change.

  4. 4 david said at 4:03 pm on May 6th, 2015:

    Except for the taste of Plehn’s donuts. That taste has not changed over the 65 years I have eaten them. They are the Cafe du Monde beignets of Louisville.


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