News - #22 DECEMBER, 2001

2001 Festivals Acadiens When September 11 came we were extremely lucky to be home in Louisiana. We'd had no plans to fly for the rest of the year, having only two drivable trips left on the calendar, other than our dance hall gigs down here. Festivals Acadiens, of course, was the next event on the calendar and many of you folks found it impossible to be here, though you'd planned it for months. We came together a bit shell-shocked and faced with the task of making music after such a horrible event, but that festival is about more than just having fun. It's purpose is to continue what was given to us by our ancestors in its purest form. By the time we mounted the Festival stage on Sunday it had become clear that our job is to keep our music and our culture alive and well no matter what happens. Playing music and feeling like playing music don't always go together, but once we get started, our spirits get lifted and it gets a lot easier. Through it all we still remember the people who died that day and try to work out what we can do to honor them. We tried to honor them with our best work. We hope to see more of you in happier times next September. Dance Hall Fall We've been playing down home a lot, as we usually do in the fall. Whiskey River Landing, Grant St., Back to Back, Rock "n' Bowl and local fairs and festivals keep  us busy while we gain weight on gumbo and beer, sleep in our own beds and cook up strategy for next year. We've been playing a lot more of the old favorites, dusting off classic Cajun tunes we haven't played in years and surprising ourselves with how good they sound. Soon we'll go into research and development mode and hammer out our next reinvention. The calendar is filling up with exotic tours to France, Canada, Sweden and Rhode Island. It's going to be a great year, but first comes crawfish season. Santa Goes Cajun We have added some great gift ideas to our web site, mamouplayboys.com. Visit our new merchandise page to see what they're wearing in Louisiana this winter. De Trut' is Out Dere We had a close shave on the Florida Turnpike on the way to West Palm Beach. David was driving. He says, "I got distracted laughing at the cassette of Hank Williams Jr. drunk onstage and cussing out the audience." We had just stopped at a service area and the van smelled like a big fried chicken. I checked the fuel gauge a short while later and noticed that it had fallen dramatically. The next town was ten miles away.  As I drove and watched the gauge I noticed that it had started climbing. It rose to a half tank and then continued climbing to an unbelievable full reading. That's when I really got nervous. Now I had no way of knowing what shape we were in. The exit finally showed up and we got off the turnpike, paid the toll and stopped at the first light with a gas station across the street. I was glad that we'd made it since we'd left ourselves no time to spare to make the gig. After an incredibly long wait the light changed and I stepped on the gas and there was none. The guys all got out and pushed the van and trailer across the street while I steered and honked the horn to get a truck and a car out of my way. We glided up to the pump under five Cajun power and filled it up. Later I wondered why such a new van would have a gas gauge that would behave so strangely. Then I remembered how Mitchell Reed had told me that when you go to South Florida you could get "... caught in dat Devil's RecTANGle." It's the only explanation I've got. Bayou Lafourche After all these years we still find corners of South Louisiana where we've never been. In early November, Jean Lafitte National Park requested a concert on the banks of Bayou Lafourche in Thibodeax. Bayou Lafourche flows from the Mississippi River at Donaldsonville and heads due south to the Gulf of Mexico. Though many of the family names are the same, the Cajuns on the bayou have led a slightly different way of life than the ones on the prairies, centered more on commercial fishing than ranching. Their music doesn't usually have an accordion, and the best example of their style is the great Vin Bruce, who sings his French in a silky baritone like a bayou Bing Crosby. Though we couldn't possibly improve on that sound, we were asked to come and represent our style of music to our distant cousins there. After a huge dinner chez Terry and Debbie Eymard we set up on the back patio of the museum and spent a perfect fall afternoon bouncing accordion notes off that beautiful bayou. Blaine's World Blaine Gaspard, our bass player and harmony singer, is a rich source of pithy utterance. It's like having our own Swami Satchidananda on the road. From time to time we'd like to share from our collection of his wisdom with all of you. Blaine: It's nice out tonight. I think I'll leave it out. Mémoires (Things we forgot to tell you) The first Louisiana Folk Roots Camp was a resounding success. Steve, Sam and David taught there, and the whole band played an evening dance. If you attended or know someone who did, you know that it was much more than an educational get-together. What a profound, emotional experience it was. Too much happened to mention here, but among the standouts were D.L. Menard's performance near the lake, something the whole world should have seen, and a classic performance by Boozoo Chavis, sadly, one of his last. The afternoon with D.L. was less a performance than a priceless view into a full  human heart. The English translation of "Tears of an Angel," followed by the song in French, was something that cannot be described. The moment was made all the more intimate for those who knew that D.L.'s beloved wife Louella, who initially inspired the song, had passed away only two weeks earlier. And Boozoo turned in one of his lecture performances, the likes of which will never, ever be seen again. Cajun and Creole music has so many unique characters, and Boozoo was one of the unique-est. Fortunately for us, he had just completed a new album a few weeks before his passing; David was invited to play on the session (as well as the Folk Roots gig), and we thank the big man for keeping the fiddle in Creole music.    As a minor footnote, and as our Puzzle of the Month, Sam also played a short dinner set of his non-Cajun songs, and during his jazz arrangement of "You Don't Know Me", was obliquely rewarded by this comment overheard from the venerable Bois Sec Ardoin: "Faut lui donner une pioche et lui mettre à l'ouvrage." Go get your dictionary. It's priceless. So we thank Christine, Dirk, Jodi and all the staff, chef Pat Mould, Lake Fausse Point, Jay and Molly et al, and all attendees for an intensely memorable experience. It was their first baby (puzzle #2!), and it couldn't have been better. Inviting the old Masters to play and speak is one of the many things that can only happen down here. back to news