The Best Gigs I Ever Played In - by Pete Vogel

Poor JCE didn’t know the Pandora’s Box he would open by sharing his favorites list.

I imagine that a good percentage of Pencilstorm readers are working - or formerly-working - musicians and I imagine all have some wonderful stories to share about gigging.  When JCE originally posted about his top ten list, I knew this would snowball in many different directions: best concerts, worst concerts, near misses, etc. I thought I’d take a stab in another direction - which will probably lead down yet another path - and this is aptly called: The Best Gigs I Ever Played In.  Here she goes:

June, 1983 – Some Dive Bar in downtown Louisville, KY (The Toll)

The most famous band I ever played in was The Toll: I joined them while still in high school.  I met Brad Circone at a party (he was dating a classmate), and he asked me to join the band. I was actually a 9-to-5 punker and a total phony: I would meet up with the guys, jam to Clash and Sex Pistols tunes, then go home and crank up Ozzy and Zep.  I didn’t dare tell my bandmates about my ‘double life’ because I’m sure they would lynch me.

Myke Rock was our tour manager at the time; he booked us a Sunday night gig in Louisville, KY.  It was our first out-of-town gig, so I was both excited and nervous. We left on a Sunday afternoon: the band took two vehicles to the show, and we drove the six-hour journey from Columbus to Louisville.  We arrived at the downtown club at dusk and were shocked and disappointed that only three people showed up. Brad was pissed.

“Look—we just drove 6 fucking hours to play for these people, so we’re going to give them a show they’ll never forget!”

It’s amazing what raw anger can do to a punk band: we raised the roof that night.  Everybody was on top of their game: Doug Marrah (bass), Rick Silk (lead/rhythm guitar) and Brad (lead vocals, rhythm) put on a show for the ages for these three punk rockers in attendance. The crowd was beyond elated that we didn’t phone it in for the paltry turnout; they loved every minute of it.

I’d just graduated from 12 years of Catholic school so I was a little nervous about what transpired next: one of the female punkers came back to the dressing room and sat on my lap.  She had green hair and her breath was a toxic mix of alcohol, cigarettes, weed and lord-knows-what. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I was a former altar boy and recent grad from Catholic high school.  

“I like drummers,” she said.  I wasn’t sure what to say back, so I mumbled something stupid like: “I like girls.”

We left the club around 3am and drove straight back to Columbus, arriving Monday morning around 9am.  We were groggy and despondent over the gig, but it was the trip of a lifetime and the best gig we ever played while I was part of the band.

I moved to LA in 1984 because I thought The Toll weren’t going anywhere.  While I struggled to make a name for myself in Hollywood, my former mates were signed to Geffen Records.  I left California in 1985 only to have my Cali roommate - Tommy Caradonna - sign with Lita Ford.

Ugh.

August, 1998 – Some Campus House Concert (The Balance)

The Balance was a six-piece jam band that I played with for three years (1997-2000).  It was a unique cast of characters that liked the “idea” of being in a band more than actually “being” in a band (i,e.. more bong hits than rehearsals).  The band was comprised of Rick Bahner (vocals, acoustic guitar), Huston Wolfe (bass), Ralph Evans (percussion), Mark Deffet (lead guitar), Kevin Deffet (harmonica, banjo) and yours truly (drums).  I always wanted to be in a jam band because you only had to learn three songs. That makes for an easy gig.

We were hired to play a house concert before house concerts were a thing; it was a campus party and it was summer quarter…..meaning we could play until all hours of the night.  The band actually rehearsed for this show and we were beginning to sound like a band, not just drunken stoners with instruments.

We always handed out percussion at our shows (shakers, tambo, bongos) and that night we had an enthusiastic crowd that was really interested in finding a groove with us.  We placed congas and bongos around the room, brought extra shakers and tambourines with us, and really engaged the crowd in becoming “one” with us.

[Caveat: Huston talked me into taking an ecstasy pill that night.  I thought my drug-taking days were behind me, but I was in a pretty chill mood so we split a pill between us.]  

The band really grooved and the crowd grooved with us.  There were some 40 or 50 people at the party and about ten of them were playing along with us.  We’d start into a groove on an old classic tune - “Ain’t No Sunshine,” for instance - and before you knew it, the groove transcended the band and spilled over into the crowd.  People who had never played an instrument in their lives were suddenly transported by the rhythm of the music and were jamming alongside us. It was truly magical—it was our own private Woodstock.  

We played until 3am; every song lasted 20 minutes.  No cops ever showed. [We figured if they did they’d simply grab an instrument and play along—that’s how magical that night was.]  We did lengthy versions of all our songs; the girls all danced and giggled, the guys jammed along with the band and it was an out-of-body experience for all those who were present.

ps. Ecstasy may have contributed.  

At the end of the show—while we were packing away our stuff—Mark Deffet said out loud: “We weren’t playing music tonight.  Music was playing us..” Amen.

August, 2000 – Barrister Hall (Brotherton)

I quit working with The Balance in 2000 because we were only capable of playing two good shows a year.  The other shows were ill-fated attempts at keeping any one of our alcoholic, stoner bandmates sober for the entirety of a gig.  Mission unaccomplished.

John Bolzenius introduced me to Kevin Brotherton, a clean-cut teetotaler who was seriously interested in playing good music.  He came from the Stevie Ray/Eric Johnson school of bluesy improvisation, so it was nice to play with someone who truly cared about tone (and sobriety).  He used to plug a Fender Twin along with a Marshall stack into an A/B switch and when he blended the two amps together it sounded like Neal Schon on “Lights.”  Fucking tone freak.

We added a bass player - Mark Cantwil - and I pulled double duty on drums and keys.  As a power trio it was fun to put out as much sound as possible; Mark had great vocal chops, Kevin had a huge guitar sound and I bought a new set of Yamaha Recording Customs for the sole purpose of trying to get the largest sound out of the smallest size drums (mission accomplished).  

Being in a power trio is fun—everyone has to work really hard.  Kevin was an average vocalist, but when he and Mark sang together it was really full.  We had a big sound for a power trio and it was very challenging to pull it off. And there were far less headaches dealing with three schedules as opposed to six.  

Barrister Hall was running a rare Sunday Night Rock Series for a while back in 2000, and we were hired to play one of its premiere shows.  We were very excited about being in the upscale club, where jazz, bourbon and cigars generally flourished. Unfortunately, the night of our gig only four people showed up.  We were so pissed about the lousy crowd that we took our anger out on our instruments. We blasted through original after original, jamming out instrumentals and playing as loud as we could.  The show was so much fun for those four lonely souls that the bartender actually stage-dove off the riser and broke a chair at the end of the show!

Thank God we didn’t have to drive home from Louisville at the end of that gig.

July, 2010 – Akron Italian Festival (Stadium 11)

I never really enjoyed playing in cover bands until I joined Stadium 11.  I had worked with two of its members back in the day -James Paat and Bob Mains - and they were top-notch musicians.  We assembled a setlist within a couple of practices, brought in Cliff Stanton and Mike Matko on vocals and bass, and within a couple of months were out playing big-time gigs.  

Stadium 11 fell together so quickly that we hardly had time to process it.  We all loved classic rock, so for us to cobble together 30 tunes only took two rehearsals.  The songs were a part of our childhood, so we didn’t have to work hard to get the arrangements in order.

James booked us a gig in Akron at the Italian Festival, we were opening up for a Journey cover band.  We knew Akron was rebounding from a tumultuous recession, but decided to play the gig anyhow. We thought it would be a total bust: drive two-plus hours to play for a dozen folks at a crappy event.  We drove up separately on a Friday afternoon and when we reached Lock 3 - a renovated space downtown - we couldn’t believe our eyes: There were thousands of people already milling about, the weather was perfect, and Lock 3 is essentially Akron’s version of Columbus Commons.

We arrived at the stage and a half-dozen roadies helped us with our gear.  They gave us bottled water and a dressing room. The roadies moved all our equipment to the stage and assisted in setting up.  As showtime approached, between 8 & 10,000 people were sitting on the side of the hill, ready to embark on some classic rock from these out-of-towners.

We hit the stage in full stride.  Adrenaline was high. Even though this was a new crowd, we knew they would like the songs.  We dove into cover after cover: “Too Hard to Handle” by the Black Crowes; “Roll With the Changes” by REO; “Alright Now” by Free, etc.  As we played song after song, the crowd slowly moved closer and closer to the stage and by the time we played “Kashmir” they were putty in our hands.  

We played 90 minutes without stopping and every song was better than the last.  We could hear the music wafting off the buildings in the distance and bouncing back.  People were dancing, milling about, getting closer and closer to the stage. When all forces come together like this: perfect weather, perfect setting, perfect stage, perfect crowd, perfect sound—magic truly happens.  Everyone was at the top of their game: James on keys, Bob on guitar, Cliff on vocals, Jeff Taylor (Mike’s replacement) on bass and yours truly on drums.

After the show, an older gentleman came to the front of the stage and whistled for me to come over.  I was a little nervous, he looked straight out of “The Godfather” with his jet-black hair combed back like Elvis.  I’m half-paisan, so I just imagined he was a long-lost relative coming to greet an old cousin.  

I cautiously wandered to the front of the stage: “What’s up?” I asked, guarded yet friendly.

“I just wanted to tell you that was the best rock drumming I’ve heard in 20 years.”  

“Wow…” I said.  “Thank you…I really appreciate that.”

I was embarrassed that I was nervous greeting him, because all he wanted to do was make my day.  What a kind soul—what a wonderful thing to say. What a perfect night.

Before the show began, I noticed an elderly hippie couple sitting in the center of the audience.  They both wore long white hair, tie-dye shirts and Lennon sunglasses. They looked to be in their mid- to late-60s.  I was concerned they wouldn’t like our set: we rock’n’rollers might be too loud and large for their tastes, but as we strummed the first chord they immediately got to their feet and remained there, dancing to every tune.  For the entire 90 minutes they never sat down, and grooved from one tune to the next.

Cliff and I decided to accost them after the gig to thank them for their enthusiasm and energy.  We walked up to them, shook their hands and said: “Thanks so much for dancing to our entire set. You totally made our day.”

The couple looked at each other, then back at Cliff and me.  The hippie guy furrowed his brow and said to us: “Who are you guys?”

August 2009 – Woodlands Tavern, Columbus (Matt Monta & The Hot Coal Band)

Playing with Stadium 11 was fun, but original music was still my passion.  I longed to play in a band that cared about original music, and Matt Monta answered the bell in 2009.  

He was fronting a band - The Hot Coal Band - but their drummer, Slim, was having back surgery and needed a replacement.  They asked if I’d sit in on a couple of gigs while they found someone else. Of course I jumped at the opportunity; even though I was a decade older than everyone else, I felt relevant playing with the young kids at all the cool spots.  

The Hot Coal Band was outstanding: Matt on guitar, harmonica and vocals; Bree Frick on cello, percussion and vocals; Andy Shaw on bass and trumpet; Chris Shaw on fiddle, mandolin and percussion and yours truly behind the kit.  We did 90% originals in the spirit of Johnny Cash on crack. It was pure magic.

We reached our pinnacle opening up for Deb Landolt and the Drifter Kings.  It was a packed house at Woodlands on a beautiful Friday night and the double billing was as good as advertised—which we did a lot of for that show.  

The gig itself was a blur: I could barely remember the details of the show, but it was 80 minutes of in-your-face rockabilly that featured everyone in the band.  I believe the only cover we did was Elvis Costello’s “Watching the Detectives” and we simply destroyed every song. The crowd whooped and hollered, danced all over the place and the venue was at fever pitch by the time we left the stage.  I remembered thinking to myself: “This is the beginning of something truly special.”

The band reached their peak that night.  A couple months later Andy left the band.  Two months after that Chris was gone, too. We hung on for another year with replacements but it all fell apart by 2011.  Go figure. A band that I thought would survive a decade was dead and gone within two years. Ugh.

There are many honorable mentions, but these five stood out because I distinctly remember the magical feeling I had after each show.  I will carry those memories to my grave. I’m looking forward to others’ posts! - Pete

The Complete 2018 NOLA Jazz Fest Review - by Todd Baker

NOLA JAZZ FEST 2018: New Orleans Fairgrounds: May 5, 6, 7

Little Freddie King, Tank and the Bangas, Jason Isbell & The 400 Unit,

Aerosmith, Cowboy Mouth, Walter Trout, Lost Bayou Ramblers

Al “Carnival Time” Johnson, Clarence “Frogman” Henry,

Dixie Cups, Galactic, Rebirth Brass Band, George Porter,

Jack White, Smokey Robinson, Radiators, Zion Harmonizers,

Steve Miller, Buddy Guy, Trombone Shorty, Preservation Hall Brass Band

There is nothing like Jazz Fest in New Orleans. Don’t get me wrong, Mardi Gras is wonderful and has a magic spirit all its own. I love getting drunk, going to parades and collecting worthless plastic trinkets just as much as the next guy. but Jazz Fest is all about the MUSIC. For two weekends at the end of April and beginning of May you can see literally hundreds of artists spanning all genres: Gospel, Blues, Jazz, Zydeco, R&B, Rap, Soul, Funk, Pop, Rock and everything in between. It truly is an amazing experience and I highly recommend it! Especially if you have a friend who is willing to put you up for a few days. Hotels can be expensive!

Considering I usually live hand to mouth, saving money for an event like this takes some planning. However, I had $650 in cash, my “Emergency” $20, an extra $100 in my checking account and Dad’s AMEX card (just in case). I figured that was plenty, including the cabs and Uber’s. “The best laid plans of mice and men…” My flight landed early Friday morning and I took a cab ($36 on AMEX) to my buddy Allen’s house. By 9 am we were having breakfast at Please U on St. Charles. The biscuits and gravy looked good but I opted for a soft-shell crab po-boy and an Abita Purple Haze to start my day. ($45 on AMEX) It just rolled on from there.

We went back to his house off St. Charles, a gorgeous and large structure built in the 1830’s. Allen is a LOCAL! I quickly settled into my room and rolled a few joints for the day. The room has a desk, a big fluffy bed, private bathroom & shower. It’s perfect! The best part is I am welcome anytime and Allen understands I am coming into town to play. So, we actually don’t see much of each other. He gives me a key and we hang out when our paths cross. The only way I could have afforded this trip was thanks to Allen. Yet, he doesn’t do Jazz Fest. Not since they raised the price to $15 (30 years ago). It’s funny, with his family connections he could get in for free any day he wanted. It’s just not his thing. Trust me when I say, this guy is made.

I had a couple more beers at Allen’s house and we smoked a joint before I called my Uber to the Fest ($14 AMEX). My driver dropped me off directly in front of the gates, an Uber no-no I later found out. Bonus! The bar across the street was hopping so I bellied up to the Seahorse Saloon for another pre-Fest beverage. That makes 4 before noon. I wandered through the crowd chatting with random people. Hey, it’s what I like to do. Talk, drink, rock…repeat. The main attraction for me on Friday was Jason Isbell. He was scheduled to do an interview at 1:15 and play his set around 3:30, so I had time. The headliners that day were Beck, Sheryl Crow and L.L. Cool J.

Knowing I may have to leave early that day my plan was to start with the Isbell interview, see his set and then just catch a little of everybody on my way out. I planned on a long night! My 7:30 dinner reservations at Court of Two Sisters had been booked weeks in advance. Mom and Dad got me VIP passes to Preservation Hall at 9pm. Not to mention the Funky Meters were at House of Blues, Kermit Ruffins was at Blue Nile and Dash Rip Rock was at Circle Bar! The night shows are usually the best part of Jazz Fest…if you can still muster the energy. I am not as young as I used to be and binge-drinking for 72 hours straight is a bit more exhausting these days. However, sleeping is not an option at Jazz Fest. There will be plenty of time for that when you are dead. Just go to the show! Having said all that, I tried my best, but came up short.

Isbell’s interview didn’t start till 1:15, but I wanted to get there early. I was so early I had time to catch some of Little Freddie King’s set at the Blues tent and stopped in the Gospel tent to boot. I love the Gospel tent! You don’t have to be a religious person to feel the spirit when you are there. AMEN! By the time I got back to the Isbell interview several other fans had arrived. We all took our seats and waited patiently for Jason to arrive. Then the announcer said, “Jason Isbell was not available today….” A slight whimper/groan was clearly audible from the audience. Then we got up and walked out as a group. Oh, well. What’s next on the schedule?

As it turns out, an old friend of mine from THE Ohio State days lives in NOLA now. Friday was the only day she was going, so we made plans to meet. She sent me a pic of their gate number, what flag to look for and away I went. Personally, I hate smart phones but they make finding your friends in large crowds much easier! “Back in my day” we had to get a big pole and decorate it so your friends could find you. It’s true. The tradition continues to this day. I have a friend who claims to know the story of the FIRST stick. The ELVIS STICK! More on that later.  I found Tracey and she introduced me to her Crewe. She was excited to see the band coming up before Isbell, Tank and the Bangas. They did not disappoint. I got down front and had a blast! For me to try to describe them wouldn’t do it justice. Find them on YouTube and thank me later.

I love Jason Isbell & The 400 Unit! However, the last three records have been an extreme departure from his DBT (Drive By Truckers) days (which I love). I guess getting sober, getting married and having kids has a way of chilling you out.  It was a decent show, but pretty much the same as the last few times I’ve seen him. At least he played ONE Truckers song: “Never Gonna Change” and that was the highlight for me. Afterwards, I was getting beat down and tired. So much so, I blew off the headliners and got an Uber ($15 AMEX) to the Quarter. My dinner reservation at Court of Two Sisters sucked! Shitty service. I left after one beer and turtle soup ($20 AMEX). Sadly, I missed the Meters, Kermit and Dash but my VIP seat at Preservation Hall was great, especially since I got to sit on the bench right next to the band and not on the floor! Thanks, Mom and Dad!

After that, Friday night gets fuzzy. Bourbon Street can do that to you. I blew through the $150 reserved for the day and busted into the first of five $100’s to buy more smokes. I had already gone through TWO packs from the carton I brought with me! ($60 AMEX) Later that night, I thought I lost my AMEX, or left it somewhere. A little research the next morning, which was rough, revealed it was last used at The Funky Pirate at 1:15 am. Damn those Hand Grenades! Cab ride home ($15 AMEX). I woke up at 10am and went to Walgreen’s for a much-needed soda. I gave the cashier $50 from my change I got the night before. It was a fake! Movie money.  

Yeah, I was pissed, but also determined to ride the rail for AEROSMITH! That would require finding a spot and planting myself for five hours, which is no problem if you have a group of friends with you, but I was rolling solo. The AMEX card would have to wait and there was nothing I could do about the $50, except hold on to it and try to pass it on later. Does that make ME a criminal? Not compared to our “so called” President. My Uber ($15 AMEX) dropped me off about half a mile from the Fairgrounds, which kinda sucked but gave me time to smoke a joint.

As soon as I arrived at the Acura stage I made some new friends. Weed brings people together. Literally. As soon as you light a joint there will be a group of people around you! The first act of the day was a Grammy-award winning Zydeco band called the Lost Bayou Ramblers and they were fantastic! Next up was one of the greatest blues guitar players I’ve ever seen named Walter Trout. Seriously, look him up! Hell, check them BOTH out. After each band ended some people would leave to go to another stage. This is when you make your move. I got about three people back from the rail and was happy with my spot, directly in front of the vanity ramp! Bingo.

This sweet little old lady next to me had a chair with wheels and she was partying her ass off! There was a group of about eight people from the rail back to me and we made a square to close off any “intruders”. I was the left corner and took my responsibilities seriously. Then came a group of youngsters: two boys, two girls. Young to this old man anyway. They seemed nice enough, one of the girls was really cute. I gave her the duty of holding my space when I left. After chit-chatting with my new buddies, I handed them all my business card and got ready to hit the Blues Stage. The group was nearly in shock that I was going to leave my spot. The only other obligation I had that day was to see the R&B Revival show featuring The Dixie Cups, Al “Carnival Time” Johnson and Clarence “Frogman” Henry. This was a MUST for me! After I explained the seriousness of my need, they understood and said, “Good luck.” as if they would never see me again. In their defense, I was about to fight a crowd of 100,000 people and getting bigger by the minute. I turned around and said, “Save my spot. I WILL be back!”

Getting to the Blues Tent was easy. Getting back would be the hard part. Now, for those of you not familiar with the Dixie Cups, Al Johnson or Frogman Henry, they are New Orleans legends! The Dixie Cups were known for their version of “Iko Iko” as well as their 1964 hit, “Chapel of Love.” Al Johnson wrote the ultimate Mardi Gras song, “It’s Carnival Time.” Clarence “Frogman” Henry was best known for his hits, “Glory of Love” and “Ain’t Got A Home,” in which he sings falsetto and deep bass (ribbit). Sadly, after the Dixie Cups I had to piss so bad I missed most of Frogman’s set. At least I caught the last song. Hey, you can’t see everything!

With my mission accomplished I was ready to fight the crowd back to the front row. However, I hadn’t eaten all day and was starting to feel weak. I got a crawfish pie to start then remembered I still had that fake $50. So, I got a crawfish Monica as well. As I handed the bill to the nice, young, white girl behind the counter she took it and gave it to her supervisor. I thought I was busted for sure. She gave me my food and said, “Have a nice day.”  Elvis has left the building! Being full from the crawfish pie I took a few bites and gave the rest to a random stranger. Good Karma. After that, I bought 6 beers and they were kind enough to throw them in a box and tossed some ice on top. That made it much easier to push my way though the crowd! A few “pardon me” and “just trying to get to the guy in the orange shirt” then I was right back where I started!

However, the kids had moved up into my spot. No worries, now I was standing next to the cute one. Katie was her name. There was also an annoying blonde southern woman who weaseled her way into the circle. Who let HER in??? She promised that she just wanted a picture of Steven and then was leaving. Yeah you right, darlin'. She wouldn’t be staying long. I would make sure of that. I talked with Katie until Cowboy Mouth hit the stage: Impressive!  I’ve seen them before, but this show really knocked me out. Especially the “Stand By Me” sing-a-long. Kudos, boys.

Finally, it was time for the main event. We had been standing in the heat for five hours as the crowd had grown to enormous proportions. It was asses to elbows. Yet, there was still enough room to dance. This was my 19th Aerosmith show since 1985. The last time I saw them was in Philly 2012 and they closed with “Chip Away The Stone.” It was phenomenal. But, that was more than five years ago. Would Steven be fucked up? Could he still sing? I was afraid it might be a train wreck. My fears were quickly laid to rest with the opening number, “Toys in the Attic” followed by “Same Old Song and Dance.” They sounded great and looked like the true rock stars they are. That said, they setlist really missed the mark if you ask me. They should have opened with “Back In The Saddle” since they haven’t played live in such a long time. Or maybe even allow Joe to take the lead with “Let The Music Do The Talking.” Hell, they were in New Orleans and DIDN’T USE A HORN SECTION!!! No one thought to play “Big Ten Inch”? Ha-rumph!

When they started playing the 80’s/90’s stuff the younger audience members seemed to perk up. Me, not so much. “Last Child” was a nice break in between “Livin' On The Edge” and “Ragdoll” which was somehow supposed to be significant to New Orleans since they shot the video in the French Quarter. Ridiculous. At one point, they were playing “Janie’s Got a Gun” and I thought to myself, “Who picked this song?” I complained out loud for, “Don’t Want To Miss A Thing.” Yet, they did manage to play one nugget for the old fans, “Adam’s Apple” (first time since 2009) and also did a bit of “Mother Popcorn” before closing their set. However, they did TWO Fleetwood Mac covers and no “Train Kept A Rollin”? Come ON! Looks like I’m going for #20!

After the show it was a madhouse to get out. I said goodbye to Katie and her friends before forging my own path home. As I wandered around trying to find an Uber I stumbled onto the most kick-ass crawfish boil I have ever seen! The Uber would have to wait. After my miserable dinner experience Friday night, I was ready to EAT! Besides the unlimited mud-bugs, they also had a whole roasted pig and beer on tap. Just make a donation and help yourself. I kicked in $40 and did just that. Hell, I stayed for three hours before finally calling a ride to the Quarter.

 As I said, my AMEX was last seen at the Funky Pirate on Bourbon Street, so that was my destination. My Uber dropped me off at Jean Lafitte’s which is at the end of Bourbon towards Esplanade. I had to head the other direction towards Canal St. so I might as well get a drink! Jean Lafitte’s is one of the oldest bars in New Orleans and they are known for these purple slushies that pack a punch. Needed it! I wandered up Bourbon and enjoyed some people watching until I reached the Pirate. Sadly, they did not have the card. Shit. Then, I looked in my wallet again and there it was! I had put it on the other side in my drunken state didn’t notice! Problem solved.

Once I reached Canal Street I ran into a guy with an Aerosmith shirt and we started talking about the show. He must have had REALLY good seats because he pulled out a handful of pics and gave me one of Joe Perry, Brad Whitford and Tom Hamilton. Thank you, kind sir! I caught the streetcar at Canal and rode it back to the Garden District. God, I love the streetcar. For $1.25 you can get nearly anywhere in the city. It’s beautiful! Since I still had a little energy left I stopped off at the Avenue Pub for a couple of night caps and then called it a day. Whew! I was tired and needed some rest. Yet, I still had one more day of Festing to do and there was plenty left on the agenda: Steve Miller, Buddy Guy, Smokey Robinson, Rebirth Brass Band, and much more!

When I woke up Sunday I could hear the church bells ring next door. But it only rang once. Shit, I overslept! By the time I got to the fairgrounds it was already 2pm. Only five hours of fun left. Must see music! Eat later. There was a LOT on the schedule for the day and my choices were nearly limitless. On top of that, my sister texted me on Saturday and ask me to find some “glass monkeys.” All I had to go by was the picture she sent me. They look like the old kid’s game but bigger and made of glass. You hang them outside and they look pretty. Yeah sure, I’ll get right on that, sis. Not my top priority. I entered at the back of the Acura stage where Galactic was playing, not that I would have known it. I was focused on getting my bearings, finding a schedule and getting to the best stage at that very moment. I like Galactic. Normally I would have found some cool people, smoked a joint and waited for Trombone Shorty. Not today.

Rebirth was at Congo Square! The best part about traveling by yourself is not having to worry about walking too fast or waiting for someone else. Just hit the gas and GO! I like to bob & weave when walking through crowds. Focus about ten feet ahead of you and anticipate the next move. You can’t do that with a group of people. It just doesn’t work. Which is why you have those big sticks! So, you can meet your friends at a certain place at a certain time. If you get split up, look for the stick. It’s worked for 50 years. I made it to Congo Square, but unfortunately Rebirth were already half way through their set. That’s ok, half of Rebirth is better than nothing!

Smokey Robinson was up next but I had some time to sneak over to the Lagniappe stage and catch the end of George Porter & His Running Pardners. George Porter is a bad-ass on the bass! Seeing the end of his set nearly made up for missing the Meters on Friday, but not quite. The Radiators were up after George, so I stuck around for a few tunes. Then, I had to get back to Smokey. Unfortunately, by the time I got back the crowd had swelled and I could barely see the big screen, let alone the stage. Plus, the sound was very low! You could hardly hear him from my vantage point. So I saw “I Second That Emotion” and a couple more before heading back to the Gospel tent. It was Sunday, after all. Gotsta get my churchin’ on! Rev. Todd is testifying!

The Zion Harmonizers brought tears of joy to my eyes. Their music inspired me to hug fellow humans with no shame. I raised my hands to the sky and declared for all to hear, “I BELIEVE!” No matter what you believe, if anything at all, the Gospel tent is a beautiful thing to behold and it welcomes all.  Unlike our Republican-run Congress and the entire Trump administration. (Hey, it’s my story. If I can talk religion, I can talk politics too. Lighten up, Francis!) After I filled my heart to capacity with pure bliss I continued on to some ROCK. Now, I knew Jack White existed. I knew a few White Stripes songs. I was not prepared for what I saw that day! Mind blown.

The crowd was huge. Bigger than Aerosmith? I don’t know. I didn’t see Aerosmith from the back. However, it took me a LONG while to get through the small barrier to the main field. As soon as I crossed over, I got a beer and planted myself. That’s when I made a few more friends, one from NOLA the other from FLA. We were ALL feeling it! It was an organic orgasm between one hundred thousand people happening simultaneously! Who knew Jack White was that good?  I didn’t! When the show was over I planned on hitting Steve Miller with my new friends. Karma had other plans. The Elvis Stick was calling and I had to answer it. Where is Rob Kerner???

I lost the ladies but made it to Steve Miller. Once I got there I immediately made some new friends. As I stated earlier, joints do that. Then, a guy with a backpack strolled up next to me. He took a hit and I asked where he was going. To which he pointed at the Elvis Stick and said, “there”! Hey, I know that stick!  Maybe my friend was there. So I followed him through the immense crowd and we somehow made it through. Unfortunately, BK had already left for the day, dammit! I gave the guy my business card and said, “Tell him Rev. Todd was here.” The message was received.

With less than two hours of Jazz Fest to go I walked rapidly to the Blues Tent for a bit of Buddy Guy. Having never seen him before, it was a must and he tore it up! He took his guitar from the stage to the back of the house and back! I tried to get some video of it, but to no avail. Too late. Once again, you can’t see it all. Just try to see a bit of each when you can! It’s ALL good! Back to the Acura stage for Trombone Shorty, the end of my Sunday night. The last night of Jazz Fest is always bittersweet. You don’t want the fun to end but you know it must. When Quint Davis took the stage after Shorty’s set to say thank you I knew it was over, but it was wonderful.

As I was leaving, I made a frantic effort to find my sister’s precious request. Lo & behold, at the very end of the arts tents, I FOUND THE MONKEYS! Having not properly read her text, I did not realize she only wanted ONE monkey…in orange. She said it would cost about $100 with shipping. I ended up buying three for $200 and lugging them all back with me through Mid-City. Plus, I also got a Fleur-De-Lis for an early Mother’s Day present. With my time in NOLA waning, I enjoyed wandering the streets, listening to the music and taking in all the beauty of the city. Including nitrous! Hey, somebody had a tank. I had $20. What the hell? We only live once.

Once the “wah-wah’s” wore off I continued down the street until I found a cab. Forget Uber at this point. Go with convenience. Three others hopped in and the driver said it would be $8 apiece to The Quarter. Fine. We started driving and stopped at a red light. As I looked to my right I saw a sign that said Dookie Chase. Holy Shit! This is one of the places I REALLY wanted to eat! I told the driver, “Let me out here!” and I got out of the car without paying. It wasn’t until after he drove off I realized they were closed on Sundays. Now, I HAD to call an Uber ($15 AMEX), as this was not a place for a white boy with glass monkeys to be hanging out. Plus, I had to piss. Peeing outdoors in NOLA will get you arrested fo’ shiggity! I took the risk. Had to.

Uber picked me up and took me to The Quarter where I proceeded to crawl from one end to the other. Needing food, I opted for an old stand-by, The Clover Grill. The atmosphere is more restrained than it used to be and for that it loses points. Where are the tranny servers? Where are the gay-positive menus? This was just a diner now. No matter. I had the chicken-fried steak and it was good. I made one last stroll up Bourbon. Who cares if it’s a tourist trap or the best place to get shot by a gang-banger? It’s still fun. By the time I got to Canal Street I was ready for bed.

Once again, I took the streetcar home. I had to break into my Emergency $20 to make change. My $650 was gone. God knows how much I put on AMEX. Fuck it. Check the totals when you get home, Baker. As I rode the rails on that beautiful beast, I couldn’t help but eavesdrop on conversations while watching the downtown streets blow by. It was a beautiful evening and another extraordinary New Orleans experience. As we passed Lee Circle it was hard not to notice the lack of a statue on top of that huge column. I consider that progress. More is needed.

Monday afternoon I awoke groggy yet determined to squeeze every glorious moment out of my last day in New Orleans. As I came out of my room, there was Allen! I hadn’t seen him since I got to town. He thought I already left. We got to hang out for a little bit before I had to take off, which was nice. I mean, the guy put me up for a weekend and I barely see him? Some friend I am. Yet, as I said, Jazz Fest isn’t his thing and he has own schedule to keep. Spending some time together is better than nothing at all, right? Shit, I’ve known this guy for over twenty years and we really don’t talk much. A coupla times a year tops, usually around Christmas and if I’m coming to town. That’s about it. But, it’s better than nothing, folks. CALL YOUR FRIENDS NOW!

Taking my own advice, I finally got around to calling Rob Kerner and he agreed to pick me up at Allen’s. Saying goodbye to one amigo and hello to another, I got in B.K’s truck and off we went. To where I was not sure, but I knew it would be fun! My sister was his friend first, but when she introduced us in 1995 I knew has my friend, too. Rob was meeting people at their hotel in the  Quarter but he couldn’t reach them via text. So, we took a stroll through the French Market and smoked a few cigarettes while waiting for a response. We should have gotten a beignet at the Café Du’ Monde and taken a stroll through Jackson Square. Missed opportunities.

Sadly, there is TOO MUCH to do in New Orleans. Whether you are at a Jazz Fest, Mardi Gras or just the average Thursday, you can’t do it all in a weekend. Sorry. It’s impossible no matter how much money you have. You can’t buy TIME! I spent the rest of my Sunday by the pool with B.K and his friends at Hotel Le Richelieu. It was wonderful. Laughing, lounging, drinking. Just what the witch doctor ordered for my last day in NOLA. Yet, the time in my happy place was closing.

Rob and his friends had dinner reservations at Briquette and I had to catch a plane back to Florida. He gave me a ride to the restaurant in the back of his truck and I took the opportunity to take a few parting pictures of my favorite city in America. I wish I could afford to live there again, but alas it is out of my means these days. So, I will suffice with visiting as often as I can. Or, as long as Allen lets me stay. Did I mention hotels were expensive? Well, they are!

Sigh…back to reality, and my AMEX bill, which was about $700 by the time I got home. Whoops, I guess I went a little over budget. It happens. Who gives a shit? I had a blast and THAT is what life is all about, folks. You can’t take it with you and I have no one to pass it on to anyway. So, I plan on dying broke! Besides, I had my glass monkeys and Katie’s number in my cell phone. Life was indeed good. I made it to the airport on time with a lifetime of memories jammed into half a week. I hope to come back to New Orleans and my friends soon, but I had a wedding in Columbus to attend in two weeks. No rest for the wicked. Looks like somebody is getting a glass monkey for a wedding present. Congrats to Andy and Alicia Hindman!