While we were in New Orleans for the Gospel Music Workshop of America (GMWA) and had our plate full of very good gospel music that continued as late as 2:00 am each night (and Carol had classes each morning at 7:30 am), we couldn't possibly visit New Orleans and come away without taking in some jazz at some of the many famous jazz clubs there. We had two very interesting experiences that I want to tell you about and another that would have been memorable, I'm sure, but was, unfortunately, cancelled (Harry Connick, Sr. at Tipitina's French Quarter).

On our first visit to the French Quarter (where the majority of jazz clubs are) we sat down on the steps of St. Louis Cathedral (the oldest Cathedral in North America) and listened to one of the many brass bands that exist in New Orleans, the Olympia Brass Band. In Montreal we are used to street musicians, or more precisely, subway musicians, but these are usually solo musicians or, very occasionally, perhaps a string quartet. In New Orleans, it seems, from our limited experience there, that the ensemble is the norm, happily so.

At the Montreal Jazzfest this year I had watched a very good show put on at the Louisiana stage by the New Birth Brass Band and I was hoping to see either the same group or another brass band with that distinctive New Orleans style often rhythmically driven by the tuba or sousaphone. Olympia had somewhat similar instrumentation, but 3 or 4 fewer musicians and their repertoire was more in the line of traditional jazz standards done up "street-style".

Of course, in a street concert, the price of admission is whatever you put in the hat (in this case a large bucket) standing a couple of feet in front of the band. One of the songs (most, if not all, featured the unrefined vocals of the lead trombone who was also the band leader) talked about a hole in the bucket with the implication that we might plug it with some more money. During this song some unwelcome competition began to set-up within earshot of the corner that Olympia had claimed. This was a Harry Houdini act, done solo by a guy armed with a straight-jacket and the requisite chains. He announced "Smart-people show starting here in 5 minutes, all smart people will want to watch this show not some stupid-people band". At that point no one budged from their positions around the band, but maybe they would shift their attention in 5 minutes. Promptly, after 5 minutes, Smarty Houdini, announced his act in a loud voice, throwing more derogatives at Olympia and its audience in case we hadn't gotten the point earlier and could now be cowed into coming over to him. This was returned by the band leader with a barrage of insults directed at the would-be scene stealer. As Houdini had only attracted one or two to his audience he soon announced the cancellation of his show and so the band played on, victorious.

The other jazz act that we caught on the first evening after GMWA finished was at Preservation Hall on St. Peter St. Marlene had strongly recommended that we not miss this venue, though, I believe she did rather accurately describe it as a nothing much more than a hole in the wall. I had mistakenly pictured it in my mind as a palatial structure that contained within it a jazz museum and concert hall. Perhaps there is some other jazz museum in New Orleans but this was not that place. I doubt if more than a hundred people could be packed into the room, perhaps twice the size of an average living room. Preservation Hall Jazz Band has numerous recordings and they are a very talented bunch, perhaps having the most stable gig that any jazz musician could hope for - playing each night in their own hall. We entered just as the band started their first set and had to stand at the back of all the people crowded into the room, all except a lucky few also standing.

The band started with a piece so quiet that the audience could barely whisper for fear of being heard above the music. I took notice of a giant of a man standing next to the side wall nearest us. I hoped that he might somehow move or decide to leave so that Carol and I could take a more comfortable standing position leaning against his wall. While waiting in hope of a resting place for my weary soles the music continued into other traditional jazz pieces mostly of the Louis Armstrong era. The trumpet player was the band leader and did all of the singing. He started into the classic "What a Wonderful World" but without the vocal character of Louis Armstong (perhaps it is considered sacrilege to mimic his vocals). 

The band leader's rendition had almost put us to sleep dreaming of this wonderful world when the giant guy pulled out his camera and aimed it at the band. At that the band leader stopped mid-lyric and in anger yelled "Put away your d*** camera! I warned you before not to point that flash at us" and with that he stepped through the crowd into the audience and literally chased the guy out of the poorly-lit-and-like-it-that-way, no-flash-photos-or-recording-devices sacred preserve of jazz-music- the-way-Louis-played-it called Preservation Hall. And I said to myself "some guy with a flash forever inscribed himself on that song, perhaps ruining it for the hundred people here. But hope against hope I have my place against the wall. In the balance, all things considered, what a wonderful world!"

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