New Orleans is truly the land that time forgot. It is called, by turns, Crescent City, the Big Easy; there are several different pronunciations of the name New Orleans ( N’aw Lens, New Or-lens, New Or-leens). However you pronounce it, the city is a refuge for some of the finest chefs, musicians, artists, and people who love a good time in the world. The French and Spanish fusion of cultures has created an atmosphere unparalleled anywhere else in the United States, and beyond. Some of my favorite music has come out of there: Fats Domino Clifton Chenier, Allen Toussaint, Lee Dorsey, Dr. John, The Neville Bros., The Meters, The Wild Chappatulas, and of course, Professor Long Hair. Little Feat gave a tip of the hat to New Orleans and it’s history in the song, “Calling The Children Home”. Fred Tackett was reading a book on Louis Armstrong that had the phrase in it, which we borrowed for the title.
I will be the first to admit that I was mostly unaware of the depth of Louis Armstrong’s contribution to musical history. My education was fulfilled by Ken Burns, whose insightful documentaries on The Civil War, Baseball, and most recently, Jazz, which has paved the way to a broader understanding of a genre born out of the relationship of self taught blues musicians and classically trained european/creole musicians, who, when assimilated back into the ghetto with the emergence of Jim Crow laws that perpetuated a color line segregation, created a musical art form distinctively American that has largely been ignored for the most part by all but the true aficionados in the country of it’s birth. With most things American, it is a relatively new art form, dating back to the early 1900’s, in New Orleans, Louisiana. Louis Armstrong is quoted, musically and otherwise, pretty much throughout the series. For a look, and listen, I would strongly suggest getting hold of the DVD or video series for your library. It covers the beginnings of jazz up until the late Fifties, early Sixties. New Orleans has always fascinated me, in that, it doesn’t seem like a part of the United States. Fred Tackett mentioned to me that the city is essentially a Caribbean port. Professor Long Hair, in an interview, spoke of going down to the docks as a boy to see the ships come in. The sailors on board were playing calypso music from the Caribbean, which influenced “Fess” in his unique style that spawned a few generations of keyboard players emulating his style and feel, including yours truly.
I had the good fortune of meeting Professor Long Hair in 1980. I had been working with producer Phillipe Rault (who had produced one of Fess’s later albums for Alligator records), in Bogalusa, which is where Roy “Professor Long Hair” Byrd was born in 1918. I was up there for a week of session work on a project Phillipe had brought in from France, a group whose name roughly translated to something with “Butterfly” in it. The sessions took place at the Studio in the Country. I stayed at, The Lamplighter Inn-it happen to have some of the best rib eye steaks I’ve ever eaten, which could be why it’s so deeply ingrained in my memory. On the outskirts of Bogalusa is a paper mill, and depending on the direction of the wind, you would be either sickened by the smell or bless the gods for the protection, as the fumes were blown into the next county. Made life very interesting, especially in the morning when breakfast was served and eaten or suggested and avoided. Once in the confines of the studio all was well.
Bob Glaub was playing bass that week, Jim Gordon on drums, Amos Garret, who could make a guitar solo sound as if he were playing it backwards, an effect that always astounded me, took care of all the guitar possibilities.
I had been doing session for Phillipe Rault for a few years, both in Los Angeles and in Louisiana. He has a deep respect and appreciation for artists, particularly, artists from New Orleans. Phillipe asked me towards the end of the week of recording in Bogalusa if I would mind heading down to New Orleans and stay the night at his house. He wanted to show me the French Quarter, and suggested I might want to hear Professor Long Hair at Tipitinas, and later on in the evening, check out the Meters at another club. Oh yes, and dinner, of course. After a week of hard work (fun as it was), I was ready to have a good time.
New Orleans is a city known for having a good time, but it can also be dangerous, as any big city in the states. The first time I visited New Orleans was in the early to mid seventies. I was there with Little Feat to play the Ware House, on of the places to play. The night before the concert, I took a walk in the Quarter (the french quarter) with some of the guys in the band. People were teeming on the side walks, in the streets, it was wild time. I was taking in all of the sites when a rough looking man approached me in a menacing way; he tried to pick a fight with me. And although he wasn’t staggering, he had way too much to drink. I barely slowed down to acknowledge him, but I thought, what is this guy’s problem?! I was with four or five other people who would’ve certainly helped me out should anything have gone down, but it was the look in his eyes that really shook me. It wasn’t the first time I had seen it in someone, but the look was one of someone having nothing to lose. There are a lot of lost souls wandering about New Orleans. It’s there haven, too. It was one of the few times I really felt a fear that things could go out of control. I just kept walking, turning briefly once to make sure he wasn’t coming up behind me. From then on, I had a healthy respect for the Crescent City as a place of fun, but also as a repository for the criminal element-there is a reason the Quarter is loose, and that’s because anything goes, good or bad.
There is a sexual tension in the city, too. After all, it is french influenced. The night Phillipe Rault and I visited the Quarter, after dinner, he said, “Bill, let me show you some of our finest women.” We went into a strip club where a bevy of tall, statuesque (legs from floor to ceiling ), beautiful women strutted on the stage. I told him, “You’re right, they are gorgeous.” He took me outside and pointed to the sign, “FEMALE IMPERSONATORS”. I couldn’t believe it! So much for believing what you see. We both had a good laugh and marched off to Tipitinas to hear the Professor.
We arrived at Tipitinas, and although it was January and cold outside, inside it was burning hot, a sea of bodies tightly packed in the darkened club. Cat Fish Hodge, who I knew from the Washington D.C. area, was opening for Fess that evening. He asked me if I would sit in on the second show (I had missed his first set due to our late arrival following dinner and the charade at the strip club), and I was pleased to say yes. For one thing, it would give me a chance to play the same piano Professor Long Hair was playing, an inestimable treat. Phillipe had suggested that half way through Fess’s set we should make a break for another club to check out the Meters and make it back in time for me to sit in with Cat Fish and hear the entire second, and last set of the night, with Professor Long Hair. Everything was running like clockwork. The Meters were incredible-I was listening for comparisons to Little Feat, as we were mistaken quite often for having played with Robert Palmer on Sneakin’ Sally Through The Alley. Lowell George was on that album, but it was the Meters, and not Feat, that laid down all the great grooves (Feat did join Robert on what was his next album, Pressure Drop). As good as the Meters were, I could hardly wait to get back to Tips.
Phillipe introduced me to Fess on the steps in back of Tipitinas, just before sitting in with Cat Fish. I told the Professor I had inadvertently lifted every lick he had ever played, listening to Dr. John, Allen Toussaint, Fats Domino, and many others. I held that meeting in my mind when I sat in on C.F.’s set, paying homage to the man that would be taking the stage next. It was a night I’ll never forget. When Fess and his band launched into “Madi Gras in New Orleans” it was if a bomb had gone off in the building, everyone was up on their feet and dancing. Pure magic and joy.
That was a Saturday night in 1980. The following Tuesday, January 30, Roy Byrd- Professor Long Hair-died. I was privileged to have met him, and experienced the power of his music in person in New Orleans. His light will shine a very, very long time.
Bill Payne
Detroit, MI
July, 2001 (should have been June)
