Blame my old wingman Jez from his “chicago, damn!” post or chalk it up a bit of the old nostalgia for the pre-Katrina NOLA (New Orleans, Louisiana for those who don’t know), but this post swings back to a time when jazz bands, not the National Guard, patrolled the streets of the Big Easy after dark. Closing in on two years since Katrina did her worst, and shit still ain’t the same–may never will be.But old (by American standards) NOLA’s got soul and no hurricane’s gonna take that away.
This joint is from the aforementioned Dirty Dozen Brass Band. Seen them live twice: once opening for and playing with The Black Crowes, another time by their lonesome in a small club—both times deep in the Quarter. Times are hard now, but there was a time…..
“…it don’t get much deeper than the tuba, baby…â€
laissez les bons temps rouler