I always have a song in my head and nearly everything reminds me of some lyric to a song so, needless to say, walking around the French Quarter is heaven for me. The street musicians really make the Quarter my favorite part of town. I love strolling in and out of galleries boutiques and always having some music playing.
Tuesday however, I took a different approach: less shopping, more listening. With that approach, I fell in love with the Quarter all over again.
NoLa is known for jazz, and it can literally be found EVERYWHERE. I parked my car, walked one block, and there it was: the robust sound of a jazz band. 6 men sat on a pair of park benches and let it flow. With four horns and two drums, they seemed to serve as a welcome wagon to the city. It’s a great reminder of how American music was born, because jazz was the first music style born in America, and it happened right here in New Orleans.
Then I moved to behind the St. Louis Cathedral and found an older gentleman with a young lady, with a really nice set-up. She had a head set and an amp, while he played the acoustic guitar. She had a beautiful voice. It was soft and high, but full of soul. The man was really skilled on the guitar and they complemented each other really well. I loved the juxtaposition of their ages; it was just proof that music is the tie that binds people.
Two blocks down from that pair was what I can only describe as the musical equivalent to “American Gothic” by Grant Wood. They were simply dressed and kept straight faces, yet the music lacked no passion. Her voice was huskier, but still sounded very feminine. She played the guitar and he played the string. No really, a string attached to a pole stuck in an upside down wash bucket, and it sounded amazing.
My next musical encounter was a cello player, seated on an egg crate. There was conviction in her face. I loved the simplicity of her set-up. I feel that simplicity tells you something about true talent. It’s why actors recite monologues; if you can find the emotion alone it can only be multiplied when you are in a group. If this girl were playing in a quartet, it would be worthy of any concert hall.
Down from the cellist, was a one-man-band. These always remind me of Bert from Mary Poppins, and by association, make me very happy. He spent more time telling jokes than playing, not that it mattered to me. He was having a blast and if music isn’t fun, then is it really worth it? I agree, no, it’s not.
Then, at the end of the musical leg of my adventure I stumbled upon my favorite musician of the day, and possibly ever. A young girl, playing the accordion, with a PHENOMENAL husky voice was just letting it rip across Jackson Square. I was instantly taken by her voice. It was captivating. Her spirit was just glowing from her skin. She just sang and played, so open and unashamed. I wish I had videoed her to capture her voice, because it’s nearly impossible to describe, yet it deserves all the recognition.
I feel sometimes, just as we forget to stop and smell the roses, we forget to stop and listen to the sound of the city. Maybe we are in a hurry, maybe we just don’t know what we’re missing, but if you open your ears you will never want to miss it again.
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