The Culture Beat

Last October, my best friend and I ventured out on a ten-day road trip through the South to celebrate the milestone of turning 40. We devoted our time to feasting on barbeque, Cajun and Creole food, as well as listening to live music every night. The trip was soberly brought to mind as I was watching the continuing coverage of the hurricane devastation and chaos in Louisiana and Mississippi. Like so many other fans of the region, it still seems unbelievable that the places we visited only 11 months ago have been lost to the angry tide of Katrina.

New Orleans was one of our most memorable stops along the way—truly one of the most unique American cities. The gumbo, the jazz, the stately boulevards, the gothic cemeteries, and the party atmosphere seem to all be essential components to the city’s DNA. Its football team is called the Saints which typifies the Roman Catholicism that saturates so much of the region’s culture. Simultaneously, there was this voodoo thing going on and tarot card readers were on every street corner. It buzzed with spiritual crosscurrents.

Even in mid-October, it was 91 degrees with 87 percent humidity. It was sultry and sticky. They call New Orleans the Big Easy, but when you walk around in some of the alleyways off of Bourbon Street at that kind of temperature it becomes the Big Stinky.

As dreadful as the heat was, we were there for the food and music. How do you adequately describe the jambalaya, gumbo, boudin sausage, or even the muffuletta sandwich made of Genoa salami, ham, Provolone cheese, Mortadella, and Olive Salad at Central Grocery? It’s simply out of this world.

The music in New Orleans was as thick as the humidity. Whether it was a marching band swaying in the French Quarter, street musicians near the banks of the Mississippi, or the clubs on Frenchman or Bourbon Streets. We were in the Louisiana Music Factory, a fabulous record store that specialized in regional music and sold Robert Johnson and John Lee Hooker t-shirts, when we saw that the Neville Brothers were going to be having an album release party across the street at the House of Blues that night.

The Neville family has been a New Orleans music institution for more than 50 years. When we inquired about getting tickets for the show, a sweet woman from the HOB gave us two tickets. We were stoked. The Neville Brothers in New Orleans! Righteous deal.

The House of Blues continues to be one of my all time favorite dining experiences. With over 1,000 pieces of folk art, HOB is one of the largest public displayed collections in America. The ceiling is made up of more than 100 bust reliefs of African American music legends (and the Blues Brothers, of course) so that they can be properly immortalized.

There is a heaven/hell, angel/demon, good/evil vibe that runs through the HOB and its merchandise (“On a mission from God,” “Serving your soul since 1992,” etc.). According to their purpose statement, HOB wanted to present “live music with southern-inspired cuisine in an environment celebrating the African American cultural contributions of blues music and folk art.” Additionally, their mission is “to promote racial and spiritual harmony through love, peace, truth, righteousness, and non-violence.” Uniquely, HOB is the only dining concept in America that presents full-on gospel music concerts at their HOB Sunday Gospel Brunch to “nourish the body and soul.”

After stuffing our faces with Creole jambalaya and Talapia, we went over to the concert hall and caught the opening act, Troy “Trombone Shorty” Andrews and Orleans Avenue. The band members ranged from 16 to 21 and they were some of the most electric entertainers we had ever seen. Twenty-year-old Troy Andrews was simply the most unbelievable trumpet and trombone player I had seen since watching footage of Satchmo. While jazz funk is not my first musical love, I was spellbound and seduced by the talent of this young and impressive act. He had a palpable charisma and sense of confidence and purpose in front of an audience who were obviously there to see the Neville Brothers.

What can you say about the Nevilles? It was an unforgettable showcase for their recent album, Walkin’in the Shadow of Life. “When will it come, well we don’t know / So we can’t waste time / You could just stand there play it safe if you want to / No second chance when you’re a** is grass / Ain’t about the money / You can’t take your paper when your about to meet your maker,” they sing on their title track.

Aaron Neville sang his hit, “Tell It Like It Is.” Even more electrifying, however, was his rendition of “Amazing Grace” a cappella. The place was silent, and people were wiping tears from their eyes. It was really quite divine.

Aaron checked himself into drug rehab 20 years ago and credits his Roman Catholic faith for saving him from heroin addiction and depression. Last year, the New York Times reported: “In Britain, many social workers have sent Neville’s CDs to suicidal patients as spiritual medicine, hoping his voice will quell depression. In India a bridge has been named for him. Doctors at the Betty Ford Clinic, in California, sometimes use his gospel album Devotion to comfort addicts in detox.”

The brothers are donating a portion of the royalties from Walkin’ in the Shadow of Life to the American Red Cross. The record company, EMI, is planning on matching the effort. By the way, it’s a great album.

“To see my New Orleans in the state she is in is my worst nightmare,” Aaron Neville has said. “We are all praying for our extended family to be reunited. Hopefully, our prayers are not falling on deaf ears. By the grace of God, New Orleans and the entire Gulf Coast will pull through this massive devastation.”

I pray he’s right.