Festing is a Verb

Nothing like a good day of festing to put things in order. Okay, that’s hyperbole; I’m exaggerating the curative powers of festing. (note: this year’s Jazz Fest slogan—I don’t think they normally have a slogan— is: “Behold, the healing powers of music.” Isn’t that beautiful?) Festing doesn’t set things in order, but it sets my mind in order some.

Tonight the termites started swarming. It strikes me as very early. Jas said that he couldn’t remember the termites swarming before the stinging caterpillars had all died off before, and I think he’s right. Although the stinging caterpillars are mostly gone now; the ones that are left are as long as my middle finger and as thick as my thumb. I mention this only to remind myself that NOLA has always been odd and wild.

I have a new Best of the Fest. Been going, what? Nine years? Seen so many of the greats: Ray Charles, Sting, Paul Simon, DMB, the Counting Crows, Fats Domino, John Hiatt, Bonnie Raitt, Keb Mo… But no one, no one, has—and maybe possibly could—top Bruce Springstein’s performance today. I was beyond bowled away. I’m not even a big fan. Or even a fan! It was the most joyful, most uplifting, and most special concert. Honestly, only the U2 Joshua Tree concerts that I saw can really top it.

Springstein just released a new CD with the Seeger Session Band. It’s all old folks/Pete Seeger songs. Jas downloaded it last week and we’ve been listening to it all weekend long. Some of the songs are very familiar (“John Henry” and “Froggie went a-courtin’”) and most of them are at least songs you’ve probably heard before. And it felt like so many of them were so applicable to New Orleans right now. “My Oklahoma Home” about a man who lost everything in a twister (“My Oklahoma home has blowed away”) and “We Shall Overcome” and “Eyes on the Prize.”

To that, he added the only recognizably Bruce song of the day: “My City in Ruins.” And it was like being in church. The whole audience was silent with their hands in the air (“Come on, rise up. Come on, rise up.”). In his encore, he played a ballad version of “When the Saints Come Marching in.” And in the middle of the set, he played an old Seeger song whose lyrics he modified to fit Post-K NOLA, and the crowd went nuts:

Well, the doctor comes 'round here with his face all bright
And he says "in a little while you'll be alright"
All he gives is a humbug pill, a dose of dope and a great big bill
Tell me, how can a poor man stand such times and live?

He says "me and my old school pals had some mighty high times down here"
"And what happened to you poor black folks, well it just ain't fair"
He took a look around gave a little pep talk, said "I'm with you" then he took a little walk
Tell me, how can a poor man stand such times and live?

There's bodies floatin' on Canal and the levees gone to Hell
Martha, get me my sixteen gauge and some dry shells
Them who's got got out of town
And them who ain't got left to drown
Tell me, how can a poor man stand such times and live?

I got family scattered from Texas all the way to Baltimore
And I ain't got no home in this world no more
Gonna be a judgment that's a fact,
a righteous train rollin' down this track
Tell me, how can a poor man stand such times and live?

Behold, the healing power of music, eh?

Just before Bruce, Elvis Costello and Allan Toussaint played. Awesome stuff. Toussaint’s stuff sounds just like Elvis’s stuff. So natural and perfect together. What impressed me most is that Toussaint called Elvis his “blood brother,” and said that he’d never met a man with a bigger heart, and at the end of Bruce’s set Bruce talked about how honored he was to play on the same stage as Elvis and Toussaint, and he said not only is Elvis a great musician, but he’s the “sweetest man in the world.” Well now, I want to adopt Elvis. Or marry him.

Between sets, a plane flew around the Fairgrounds with a banner reading “IMPEACH BUSH.”

Behold, the healing powers of festing.