treme54's Blog

Wednesday – 9^th April

‘Mean’ Willie Green (ex Neville Brothers)

‘One good thing about music, when it hits you, you feel no pain’ – Bob Marley

Woke up at not sure what time, showered and went out to get some breakfast before checking out. The Camilla Grill is just a few doors down from the hotel. I had to show a northern couple where the door to the grill is. I forgot to wear pack my watch and as yet I don’t have a phone so I asked the Yankee (that’s what us Southerners call those Northerners) who couldn’t find the door what the time is. It’s 11:15 man. Oops I was supposed to check out at 11.

I went quickly back to the hotel to pack up and check out. Carrying the suitcase down the two flights of stairs was only marginally better than carrying them up the stairs some 11 hours ago.

It took me about 10 minutes to walk over to my apartment. Mickey who lives in the same apartment as my landlord William had just finished cleaning my digs (1123 Bourbon St.) Go on put that address into Google maps for a bird’s eye view of where I will be living for the next 4 weeks. Mickey told me that William is off to his AA meeting. “What, I said, is he off the booze’? “No” Mickey said with a grin – in fact he was up drinking wine with the previous guests of your apartment until 5:30 A.M. Now the New Orleans chapter of A.A. sounds like an interesting organisation!

I walked down to the French Market to see if one of my friends from last year Sunshine was still working at the Cajun Café. Looks like she has got the travel bug again and moved on. Leslie the lady behind the jump was just as friendly. She has a radio show on WWOZ Tuesday mornings and knows another couple of friends of Wendy and mine in Bob Gentilly Jnr and his wife Pat. I will be catching up with Bob and Pat sometime soon. Bob also has a show on WWOZ. In fact Bob has presented his blues show on Monday nights for 30 years.

I opted for a Gumbo and I must say my home-made version of chicken and sausage gumbo stands up to the taste test. Although I may be making my roux a little too thick. While I enjoy my meal I listen to Leslie talking to the tourists (I am not a tourist!) … it feels like I have never left.

Now I would not normally talk about having to take a dump however I had to let you in on this bit of graffiti I read on the dunny door. ‘Don’t beam me up Scotty, I’m taking a shi’

I called in to my favourite cloths shop ‘Wicked Awlins’. The owner Robert is an interesting character and we had a chat for about 10 minutes. He membered me from last year. I spotted the perfect t- shirt for Kate.

William was back from his meeting when I returned and we had a long chat. He is very pleased to see me back and he said that Wendy and I are welcome to stay any time.

I headed out around 3 and called into the Café Maspero which is also a great bar. The in-house juke box is blaring out of all things ‘Thunderstruck’ very unlike New Orleans music. I didn’t travel for more than 24 hours to listen to AC/DC! Oh well a couple of icy Abita Ambers help make up for the classic rock music being belted out.

It is another 15 minute walk to Lafayette Park where my music fix is for tonight. Free music in the park is held every Wednesday through the spring months. On the walk over I spotted a work van that took my fancy. ‘Rooter Man – When Your Drains Don’t Work We Do’

When I got to the park I ran straight into our great friends Stew and Carol. We exchanged hugs and news and Stew gave me a side of stage pass which comes with free beer. The Funk Monkeys are up on stage and sounding pretty good. Saw some other friends from last year, Kym who is a professional photographer and her partner Chris. Spotted another cool t-shirt ‘If You Don’t Sin, Jesus died for nothing.’ Albright I don’t want to let the messiah down so I filled up my cup with another Abita.

Not sure why but my right knee is giving me hell again. Same as last year when I was in ‘awlins. Maybe it is a humidity thing. I wonder if they recommend taking my anti-inflammatory pills washed down with amber. I guess I will know in an hour or so.

Stew introduced me to many people back stage including an actor that appears in the third season of the HBO series Treme.

The New Orleans Suspects are the main band of the night. A band featuring many of New Orleans finest including ‘Mean’ Willie Green who was the drummer for the Neville Brothers. Great music and I enjoyed the set immensely. The night finished with a second-line down the road..

I followed the second-line for a while. Here are a couple more great t-shirt moments. One for my vegetarian friends. ‘You Don’t Win Friends with Salad’ and for the Way Out West committee ‘Beer Is the Reason I Get Up In The Afternoon’.

The last thing I want to leave you with is a bit of sage advice. It is not a good look for older men to wear jeans that have been dry-cleaned that leaves a pleat mark down the middle of those said jeans.

Tuesday 9^th April – Travel Day

Travel day has finally arrived. Wendy and Kate made the trip to the airport with me. I am not looking forward to 18 hours in a plane however the effort will be worth it. I am travelling with V Australia this time as their planes are a little more spacious as well as giving you your own screen to view movies.

The line to get through customs at Tullamarine was very much on the long side. Round and round you go as you wind your way to the scanning area. I heard someone call out my name and was surprised to see Lauren from the Williamstown RSL in the line beside me. She is off to New Zealand for a wedding. I was pulled out of the line after the scan and was asked if I was carrying any explosives. The only combustible I am carrying is last night’s Mexicana pizza sitting low in the gut.

I was pleased to see that Flight Centre had come true with their promise to get me an aisle seat. I am a bit too unsteady on my feet to be climbing over passengers. Bonus also as the seat next to me is occupied by a young boy. I dreaded that a guy I saw at check- In would be sitting next to me. He was a very big hunk of a man and I would have finished up with many rolls of fat on my arm rest.

Once we were in the air the pilot gave us the news that we would have a tail wind all the way across the Pacific and travelling time would be cut by near on an hour. Great news although it means my 8 hour stopover at L.A. airport will blow out to 9 hours. Gotta say the service was very good and the food was very unlike airplane food.

Some six hours into the flight and my Lynx deodorant has let me down. 12 hour protection is bullshit.

We landed in L.A. around 7:30 A.M. and this time getting through border patrol was very quick. So much better than last year when it took 3 hours due to a customs strike. I was asked what food I was carrying. I had ticked the entry form for food. I said 4 tubes of Vegemite (gifts). The customs guy said I don’t class that as food and waved me through.

I got my checked luggage from the carousal and then checked it in for the 4 hour domestic trip down to New Orleans with Delta airlines. I have about 8 hours to waste. I decided to go through the domestic check in and sit it out in the lounge. The security checks for domestic flights in the U.S. are more stringent than International flights. L.A. airport is undergoing renovations and unluckily for me this effected the number of points of entry.

What should I eat? Hmm… Red Miso Beef and rice was an excellent choice.

Eight hours of people watching, reading and checking my emails on my Galaxy Tablet (free Wi-Fi at the airport). I have such a long wait head of me that my flight is not even listed on the departure board. Finally after an eternity of trying not to nod off our flight is ready to board. I know I must be in the correct departure lounge as there is a women in her mid -twenties very drunk waiting to board the plane. Well she is going to New Orleans so she may as well get a head start.

We got into New Orleans just before 11P.M. and I am dog tired. It is always a great relief when you see your luggage on the carousal. Until you can spot your suitcase you always think the worst. I.E. my suitcase has gone to Alaska.

I got a cab and asked the driver to take me to the St Helen hotel on Chatres St in the French Quarter. I will be staying at the same apartment on Bourbon that I had spent 3 months in last year. However seeing I stuffed up my leaving date the apartment still has guests and I can’t get in until Wednesday morning. I booked the hotel via Expedia as it was the cheapest I could find. I thought I must have stuffed up as my cab driver keept saying to me ‘I aint never heard of no St. Helen hotel. I showed him my handwritten address. ‘”Oh man, you mean St Helene”

I got to the hotel at 5 minutes to midnight. Check- in was painless until the concierge said that I was on the third floor. The problem was as he said “This is a very old hotel sir. We do not have an elevator. You will need to carry your suitcase up two flights of stairs.’ I can tell you I was puffing like an old steam train when I finally made the third floor.

Sorry for the delay with the posts, I have had some connection problems

the very talented Mr. Eric Lindell with the very untalented Rob Rowe

 Sunday 6th April

Two days to go before I head back to my second home – the City that Care Forgot – New Orleans. 

My trip will be shorter this time (4 weeks) and I will be cramming as much music as I possibly can into that time frame. I will be staying in the same apartment on the 1100 block of Bourbon Street. 

I am currently half way through reading a fascinating book ‘A History – Bourbon Street’ author Richard Campanella. Many of us only know the Bourbon St of the last few years. The sleazy Canal Street end with its strip joints, gaudy souvenir shops and victuallers of ‘big ass’ beers and hand grenades. This book is a fascinating read beginning with the early years of 1682-1722 right up to the present. A must read for anyone who has stumbled down Bourbon at 3 o’clock in the morning… 

My landlord William kindly booked the dates for my 2014 stay last year. He likes having an Aussie ‘Koala Bear’ as a tenant. I will take over 4 tubes of our national spread, Vegemite. William has taken a liking to the taste. The other tubes will be for Bob Gentilly Jnr. http://www.wwoz.org/programs/blues-and-rhythm-and-blues-with-gentilly-jr and his lovely wife Pat and Stu and his equally as lovely wife Carol. They are great friends of both mine and Wendy’s. 

I know Wendy is very disappointed she is not making the trip this year. It is entirely my fault for not asking her to accompany me. I know Wendy would love to catch up with our new buddies as mentioned above. Now you may ask why did I not invite Wendy. Well I remember when I came back home last year and I caught up with friends for the debriefing session and some people asked Wendy would she go back to New Orleans. I am sure I heard her say on a number of occasions “probably not, I liked being there but I would sooner have travelled more around the States”. “It was interesting but a bit dirty and 24 hours of music a day is a bit tough.” However over the ensuing months I heard Wendy raving about New Orleans to all and sundry. Wendy is now Facebook© friends with some of ‘Awlins finest musicians due to some fantastic photos of hers that she has posted on-line. Now you see this is exactly what happens when you visit New Orleans. 

It gets under your skin, not like an itchy rash that irritates but more like an intravenous drip that feeds you life giving goodness. New Orleans beguiles, courts, amazes and scares you all at the same time. It can be badass, crass and intoxicating. It can leave you drained and invigorated within a short space of time. It is not for everyone but if you make the time to go there to research its history and have an open mind then it welcomes you with open arms. 

All is not lost with Wendy’s disappointment this time around. In 2015 there are plans afoot for Wendy and Kate to make the trip down South. Kate has always been keen to go to New Orleans but she wanted to ensure that she had turned 21 before venturing away with me. It is no coincidence that the legal drinking age in the States is 21years of age. It always amazes me that the most-wicked city in the U.S.A. requires you to be an adult before imbibing! I am already looking forward to showing the girls around the City that I can’t stop thinking about. 

I am due to land in New Orleans late on Wednesday night (9^th April). Hopefully I will be able to get some sleep as I need to be up and ready to get down for the start of the French Quarter festival which runs from Thursday to Sunday. http://fqfi.org/ The festival showcases the best of the best of local musicians and is free to attend. Wendy and I had a great time there last year apart from the first day’s torrential rain and electrifying thunderstorm. 

If I get over those four days of awesome music then I will go to the free music sessions held each Wednesday night through  the spring season (12 weeks) at Lafayette Square http://wednesdayatthesquare.com/

Then on Thursday I can wander over to Armstrong Park (Congo Square) for the free Jazz in the park series http://www.pufap.org/jazz-in-the-park-treme-music-series/season5/

Friday the 18th April is Good Friday and that means the start of the New Orleans Easter Parades including the must see Sunday Gay Easter Parade. This parade goes right past my apartment and last year I sat out on the balcony with my Landlord and the local neighbours to watch the parade go by. It is compulsory to wear a hand-made Easter Bonnet. William has already emailed me to say he has made a bonnet for me to wear! 

I will still have to make time somewhere in this hectic schedule to catch up with friends and also visit some of the music clubs on Frenchman Street as I will not have a lot of time until Jazz Fest is upon me. http://www.nojazzfest.com/ 

So if I have whetted your appetite and you want to know what I get up to on a day to day basis then stay tuned

Update: April 2^nd 7 A.M. Wendy checked my flight ticket last night and then told me this morning that my flight is Tuesday the 8^th April and not Wednesday the 9^th. Whew that would have been a disaster as I am in the habit of not checking those sorts of things until the night before. Better wish me luck when I do get to New Orleans as I will be on my own.

It’s time for the second ‘Grumpy Old Man’ blog. Before I let rip I would like to thank all the very bored people who took the time to read my first expose on that functionless and costly piece of mens clothing, the preposterous TIE. Don’t forget to add your comments and pass on the Word Press link to your friends and maybe your enemies as well.

I have had time to mull over my new topic Commercial Radio. The mulling in fact has been going on for the past 30 years. It is no small coincidence that commercial and crap start with the third letter of the alphabet. PEOPLE if you have even a passing interest in music then why in the hell do you tune your wireless to the moronic, unfunny, advertising riddled, big business controlled play lists that assail your auditory senses. Let us not beat around the bush here. I am talking about Fox (vermin), Triple M (moronic), Nova (star that becomes vastly brighter and then gradually dims – the current phase), Gold (fools).

Now I have a theory that I have expounded on for some time now. That is that music has its greatest influence on us in our early to late teenage years. A confusing time, when we are experiencing all sorts of change, both physically and mentally. When we are at our most rebellious and are growing into ourselves. We want to be cool and make up our own minds and you can’t do that listening to your parent’s daggy music. Well guess what most of us have turned into our parents regardless of our long ago good intentions.

I recently finished reading a book I purchased at Dymocks Collins Street store titled ‘This Is Your Brain On Music’ author Daniel Levitin. ISBN 978 1 84354 716 7

‘Daniel Levitin was a record producer and he now works as a neuroscientist and in this book he explores how the human brain perceives music, and how composers beguile and challenge us’. – Classic FM Magazine

I was pleasantly surprised to read that a very learned and far better educated man than my humble self wrote a passage in his book that went someway to giving credence to my theory.

‘Researchers point to the teen years as the turning point for musical preferences. It is around the age of ten and eleven that most children take on music  as a real interest, even those children who didn’t express such an interest in music earlier. As adults, the music we tend to be nostalgic for, the music that feels like it is ”our” music, corresponds to the music we heard during those years’.

I recommend you grab yourself a copy. It is hard reading and can be a bit technical for those (like me) that have no music ability but non the less it really gets you thinking about how music can move you, inspire you, make you happy, make you sad and make you think.

Now I am not advocating that you completely turn your back on the music you grew up with. It is too engraved in your psyche. I like the Beatles, the Stones, the Doors etc., etc. but just not every day. The most brilliant thing that can be experienced as a music fan is to be surprised. To hear a band for the first time and go WOW, to feel that tingle go down your spine as you tell yourself ‘how good was that’. I had that happen to me recently while listening to ABC’s Dig radio when I heard for the first time ‘Hold On’ by a young band called the Alabama Shakes. I purchased the album and found out later that I will get to see them live at this year’s New Orleans Jazz Fest.

Commercial radio does play new releases (Gold FM aside) but it plays over produced tripe that is being driven by some fat cat executive at a major record label that couldn’t give a shit about innovative, talented musicians. The pop chart is just a flow on to the more important share price and another obscene bonus.

One of my little pleasure before getting into work is having a fifteen minute sit down in a local café to read the paper and have a coffee. I have been known to boycott certain cafes pursuant to what radio station they have on. I recall with utter disgust sitting through a week of ‘gotcha calls’ before I made the decision to never again go into that particular establishment. More the pity as they made great coffee and the staff were very friendly. This is my take on morning radio. Ten minutes of inane conversation by a couple of nobodies laughing at their own unfunny observations, then someone rings up with more dumb ass stories, followed by ten minutes of advertisements and then maybe a song that will not be remembered by anyone in a year or so.

Ah but there is a solution and folks it is community radio. Now community also starts with the third letter of the alphabet but is it a good C. I am talking about 106.7 PBS. 102.7 RRR. These are two stations where you can hear people who have a passion for music, talking about music. Where the play list is determined by the presenter and not dictated by some faceless man or woman. I will not guarantee that everything you hear will be to your liking. That is the beauty of experimenting, taking a chance. Another station to check out is the ABC’s Dig radio although I now have some reservation about its play list as JJJ are now involved. JJJ was a great station for new music but from my understanding and talking to people in the independent record producing business they are pretty much corporate now. Or you could do as I recently did a buy yourself a good quality digital radio. I regularly tune in to New Orleans WWOZ which is very similar to our own community radio. The list of digital radio stations worldwide is extensive and you are bound to get your music fix without the shit.

I was perturbed when reading a couple of recent newspaper articles. That would be in the Age newspaper folks as the Herald Sun is much like commercial radio (I’ll leave that comment as is and maybe the Herald Sun will get its own blog). These article state that a record 9.7 million people listened in to Commercial radio last year. Commercial radio ad revenue grew by 2.8 per cent to $355.7 million in the six months to December 2013.. That amounts to a whole lot of crap advertising that is forced upon you. You see Commercial radio is not about the music or supporting the local music scene. It is about revenue, value for shareholders and pandering to big business. It allows creeps like Kyle Sandilands to boast recently that his new show would steal the number one rated position straight away. I just cannot fathom why anyone in their right mind would want to listen to the shit he talks.

My plea to you is change your dial. Support radio that supports music and musicians and contributes to growing “Your Brain On Music”

‘The art of advertising – untruthfulness combined with repetition’. Freya Stark

I know, not another dumb ass blog! However as I turn 60 this year I have deemed that I should be allowed to start up a grumpy old man tirade against the things that have been giving me the shits for most of my adult life. The blog will be posted ad hoc as I recall things that make me want to scream. Of course as we live in a free speech society you can disagree with me but I need to tell ya’ll that I won’t give a crap. As for grammar and spelling. Well I went to a technical (should that be a capital T) school and English (should that be a small e) studies were not a pre-requisite to getting an apprenticeship. I may add here that I failed all the trades on offer. There was Woodwork, Technical Drawing, Sheet Metal and Carpentry. I kinda dug Fitting and Turning until I witnessed one of my long haired mates (this was in the late 60’s) getting his hair wrapped around a lathe and subsequently he did not need a hairdressing appointment for a number of months. Oh and by the way when I went to school you had to wear a tie… which leads me into my first rant.

First for my dumb ass blog will be TIES. No not the ties that bind but those ridiculous pieces of coloured cloth that hang around your neck and serve no practical purpose. A piece of decorated rag that in most cases cost more than the shirt you are wearing. A piece of coloured fabric that HR people and marketing people seem to think will make you do your job better.

Now for those that know me you will of course realise that I work in an industry that makes the wearing of a multi-coloured noose compulsory. Over the 40+ years I have worked in my chosen field I have seen many fashions come and go. I have worn ties so thin you could have used them for shoe laces, ties so wide that they acted as a napkin (at least they kept soup stains off my shirt). Ties made of leather during my bondage phase. Ties with all sorts of floral designs. Corporate ties (boring). Picture ties. I recall that one time in the mid-seventies I even had a picture tie depicting a bank robbery scene. My manager at the time rebuked me for being crass. I was once given a silk tie which was pretty cool but it still did not get me to the top of the corporate tree.

I have read about how you can make a statement by the colour of your tie. What is wrong with opening your mouth and saying something even half intelligent? You know there are people out there that advise the high flyers of this world on what colour tie they should wear so as to make the appropriate statement. What sort of non-descript tosser is making a living out of being a style consultant. Most of the world’s despots have worn a resplendent tie from time to time, sure did them no good in the humanity stakes. In fact I would hazard a guess that most of the world’s true humanitarians shun the dreaded tie.

You only have to look at the people that wear the tie on a day to day basis. The politicians of the world, obscenely paid business men, high ranking military men and shock jocks such as the repulsive Alan Jones. Certainly their dangling coloured appendages have not helped them in being people of quality. Maybe they tie their Windsor knots so tight that the blood can’t get to their morally and socially deprived brains.

The first person that gets up a world wide movement to relegate the tie to the scrap heap will have me as a member.

Fashion, though Folly’s child, and
guide of fools,
Rules e’en the wisest, and in learning rules – George Crabbe 1754-1832