“Down in Louisiana where the alligators grow so mean, there lived a girl that I swear to the world made the alligators look tame.”
Polk Salad Annie/Tony Joe White
Kendra will tell you, I've searched the country over in pursuit of the true po' boy. Much disappointment has always been the result. Let me explain. If you've ever been to New Orleans, or other spots in the state of Louisiana, you may have had a classic po' boy. I hope you have. It's a sandwich made with French bread that contains your choice of meat, usually roast beef, shrimp or oysters, dressed with shredded lettuce, tomato, dill pickle and remoulade sauce. Sounds pretty straightforward, doesn't it? It's not.
A New Orleans oyster po' boy is one of my absolute favorite foods. I daydream about one at least once a week. When it's done right, like they are in that crazy city, it's a near spiritual happening for me. When I take a first bite, I close my eyes and give thanks. They do not exist outside the state of Louisiana, at least in its heavenly form. How can that be, you say, it's really nothing more than a submarine sandwich?
It's the bread; that's the key. Maybe it's the water down there. I've heard that as an explanation before. It could be. Whatever it is, the airy, delicate quality of it is unique to the Bayou State as far as I can tell. I've done my own research. Across the land, when I've seen a po'boy on the menu, I've given it a go. People think they're serving a real po' boy, but they're not. After several flops, I've become cautious. As the tally of subpar offerings mounted I'd ask Kendra, “What do you think. Should I give it a try?” “It's up to you.” she'd say, “But you're probably going to be sad.” And I always have been. The bread is all wrong. I went for a long spell swearing off any attempts. But about a month ago, I weakened. I ordered a shrimp one at a local restaurant that considers itself fairly with it. Alas, it was another dispiriting affair. It's the bread. Nobody gets the bread right.
That's my lament for the day, so on now to Louisiana and its music. The state has, dare I say it, a gumbo of musical influence and styles: Jazz, zydeco, R&B, gospel, blues, cajun, brass band and second-line. New Orleans exists, I think, for food and music…well, and a few other things. If you walk around the French Quarter there in the late evening, you'll hear music blaring from clubs and amazing street musicians busking for whatever they can earn. One night, I was walking back to my hotel there and the streets were unusually quiet, almost eerily so. The only sound I heard was a saxophone coming from a couple of streets over. It was in the direction I was headed. When I came around a corner, I saw its source - one guy standing under a street light all by himself, blowing a beautiful, mournful tune. It was like a painting. An image I'll never forget. The place is a sensory overload of sights, sounds, smells, tastes, oddballs, weirdos and voodoo. You can also get shot in New Orleans, too, so, there's that.
Best Band: Better Than Ezra. They're an alternative band that formed in Baton Rouge in 1988 and have since been headquartered in New Orleans. Their 1993 album, Deluxe, went multi-platnum in 1993 and they had a #1 hit, Good, on the Billboard Modern Rock chart in 1995. They've been a consistently fine band all through their history. They used to come to Oxford, MS and play at Proud Larry's on occasion. They were always a good time. My support was tainted some back in the day when I learned one of the band members was foolin' around with my buddy's girlfriend during his days at Ole Miss. Maybe she was foolin' around with him. My memory is fuzzy. They weren't destined to be a couple, anyway. It was a long time ago and he's no longer here for us to laugh about it. So, rock on, I guess.
Best Solo Artist: No matter who was available, I wouldn't put them ahead of Lucinda Williams in this category. She is the godmother of every alt-country, Americana rocker who ever strapped on a guitar. She is widely revered by people who know stuff but you'll never hear her on any mainstream station, country or otherwise. She's too close to the bone for shiny listeners. She was born in 1953 in Lake Charles, LA. Her father, Miller, was a literature professor and poet. She started writing songs, playing guitar and singing when she was 12. When she was 25 she released her first record. In 1998, her breakthrough album, Car Wheels on a Gravel Road came out. It consistently shows up on critic's lists of Best All Time recordings. Mary Chapin Carpenter covered her song, Passionate Kisses, long ago and made it a crossover hit. That's the only place you'll catch a hint of Lucinda on any conventional outlet. She's had some serious health issues in recent years. She's still fighting the good fight, last I heard.
Wildcard: Cowboy Mouth. The name gives you a hint of what you might be getting into. They're an alt/roots-rock outfit from New Orleans, known for their full-throttle live shows. They've been around since 1990 and they're still at it. They used to tear through Memphis every so often, playing the Antenna Club, the New Daisy and other spots that encouraged controlled mayhem.
What have I missed from Louisiana?