SabbatiBlogue

Watch this space

It's a cool day here in Acadiana. It's cool enough to sit outside with a coffee. That's so good.

Tea and toast

If returning to blogging after an absence is like returning to solid food after a malady, then this is the weak chicken soup and saltines post.

I am not sure just when the summer really started, but it might have been a little after the blogging stopped. Since writing last, I have been traveling richly: to Texas, Alabama, New York, Halifax, and Québec. I was so happy to be without my beloved computer. But I really really missed my guitar.

Photos and perspectives to come.

T-Salé

Last night I went to hear T-Salé, sponsored by the Krewe de Canaille at La Poussière in Breaux Bridge. Does this sound like English? I love my life.

The band was cooking. Bien salé. Here are the photos.

This is so Lafayette

Overheard at a local saloon (Blue Moon) where a band (Horace Trahan and Kenneth Richard) was playing Cajun-rock-zydeco:

"The guitarist is my handyman, I just realized."

Madame la Sabbatique à la radio

Demain, je vas être à la radio, invitée par Marce Lacouture, l'animatrice de "Lagniappe" à KRVS. Écoutez à 13h, heure de Louisiane.

Iowa is not Louisiana

Part of my job while on sabbatical is to come to miss Iowa. It's a hard thing for Louisiana me.

I'm from a part of the world where you live to eat, and the gumbo is worth it. My heart's home is a land where you work in order to play, and playing might mean waltzing and two-stepping with a wild diversity of partners, screaming encouragement at the band, and speaking French in the parking lot til two. On a week night.

Iowa is not Louisiana, not since 1803. There are no drive-in daiquiris. You eat what's put in front of you, and that's likely to be radically underspiced. You can spill the coffee on your white shirt and it won't stain. And let's just get this clear: you live to work, period. There will be no French anything in the parking lot, not with work the next day, Missy.

I haven't fully achieved the state of missing Iowa, but Addy has given me much encouragement. (Thanks to inquire within for bringing it to my attention.)

It is interesting to be a PhD in the city with the highest density of PhDs. Iowa is full of smart, informed people, progressive even on other people's issues. And that's the part of Iowa I really miss. Thanks for the reminders, Addy.

Cajun + Amana

Those of you who are reading this in Eastern Iowa: Go to the Cajun Fest in the Amanas this weekend, and be sure to go early enough to see Marce Lacouture at noon.

There was a time when I resisted the Cajun Fest. It wasn’t the strange juxtaposition of Cajun and Amana. My resistance was a response to the tackiness of the whole thing, with garish plywood alligators and Mardi Gras everywhere, though we are solidly in Easter season, thank you very much. And it was the way they treated musicians—overworking them a bit while making them stand in line to buy their own (bad “Cajun”) food. Not very hospitable.

But after a few years I came to know people at the Fest. Some were Iowans who were seriously grooving on the music, like Richard and Diane Luther. This Cedar Rapids couple has learned to dance Cajun in the past few years and is generous souls who have taught hundreds of other Iowans how to waltz, two-step, and jitterbug. Others were Louisiana ex-pats, like Preston and his impressive entourage. They circle their RVs in the campground, taking turns cooking meals that dazzle. Crawfish pies, gumbos with potato salad. And they rope you in to eat over there with generosity characteristic of Louisiana. I don’t know which I like better, the food or the chance to speak Cajun French.

In recent years, I have known some of the musicians slightly or more than slightly; it would not be thinkable to skip out on their Iowa gig, plywood alligators or not.

This weekend’s music lineup is just great. Rosie LeDet has a great voice and accordion style—it’s hard to believe that she is shy if you see her on stage. Jamie Bergeron I don’t know well, but I hear that his music makes the party. Roddie Romero is a great guitar electric player but also a fiddler and a dynamite accordeon player. He does everything from the most traditional of Cajun tunes to no-apologies, no-prisoners rock and roll. Jodi Hebert is teaching dance: just seeing her dance is a real treat.

Hadley J. Castille is a consummate professional who loves to meet people around the world; his band is great, too. You’ll hear a little swing, a little blues in his fiddling, which has its roots in the pre-WWII, Texas-swing influenced string-band era. Mr. Hadley is a great fiddler and songwriter, too. Dennis Stroughmatt is the most amazing guy. He’s a Midwesterner who has learned French, the fiddle, and the accordion. He long ago earned the label “Louisiana musician.” Marce Lacouture has collected the Cajun music that never went to the dance-hall: danses rondes, children’s songs, lullabies, women’s songs, home music. Her voice makes me think of diamonds: strong, clear, timeless.

Naturally, I’m crushed that I can’t be there; it’s that darn sabbatical again. But do go, listen, meet the musicians, get raucous, dance, be sure to clap on 2 and 4, and have a great time. And let me know how it was.

Aujourd'hui j'ai écouté une chanson qui a fait mention de l'odeur des magnolias. Mais ces fleurs n'ont pas d'odeur, pas que je puisse sentir. Mais ils sont terriblement beaux.

Goodbye Heart

Who knows what will happen next at the Blue Moon Saloon?

I'll explain about the Blue Moon. There are not many bars I'll go into by myself because I am just not comfortable hanging. Not the Blue Moon! It's a friendly and supportive atmosphere. Occasionally I get chatted up by a clueless guy, but never harassed. I get respect. Is it because the Blue Moon Saloon is outside? Or connected to a hostel?

And the music is just great there. Bands who play out of state for $15 and $30 play the Moon for $5. Can you name just six Cajun bands? If so, take one musician from each of five of those bands and that's the super group Racines, who play pretty much exclusively at the Blue Moon.

So today, the fabulous Sam Broussard (order his CD Geeks before it's gone) had finished playing and the Cajun jam had not yet started. Strains of "Hello Mary Lou" came from down by the bar. Folks drifted over to see an excellent barbershop quartet. They did one song; I still don't really know why.

I love that place.

Archive Aid

The most fabulous Archive of Cajun and Creole Culture at the Center for Louisiana Studies was the object of a benefit this weekend. Four bands, all of whom have taken some of their repertoire from the Archive, gave generously of their time and talent. The crowd was just delightful and completely delighted.

Read more about it (in French, with photos) here. Here’s the photo album.