Dashing from the tent, I met Eva and we visited some friends in front of one of the food tents. Luckily, it faced the main stage where five elderly and blind men from the deep rural south were connecting with the decendents of Vikings. I mean they were connecting, Pilgrim. By the end of the set, the Five Blind Boys of Alabama had the audience at the Stockholm Jazz Festival talking in tongues.
Having grown up as a Catholic in the deep east of New Jersey, my only experience with singing in church was listening to the amateur choir at Christmas mass. I knew of gospel music as a musical genre, and had seen it on videos and in the movies, but had never had any direct experience with it. Let me tell you, brothers and sisters, that even in the chapel of the Stockholm outdoors, these gentlemen and their absolutely cokking back up band were delivering the word.
Even while engaged in conversation, the power of the Boys' voices and the spirit that the music brings kept me drifting more and more to their performance. It was unlike anything that your writer had ever experienced. It's a hypnotic effect that causes toes to tap, heads to bob and finally, hands to clap. By the end of their set, the crowd was on its feet, and though I saw no signs of rapture or hands shaking in the air, there was no tweeting or phoning by anyone in the audience during the final 30 minutes. Finally, with blessings the Boys thanked Stockholm, clasped the shoulder of the man in front of them, and were led single file to the wings to the sound of a sincere and appreciative ovation. These men are a treasure, and I am grateful that I got to be a witness. Amen.
The long day was coming to a close, and I made my way up to the front of the stage for the Little Feat set. Be forewarned that I am a fan of this band and I have been able to find something enjoyable in all their differing line-ups.
I didn't discover the band until the "Feats Don't Fail Me..." LP, which is probably true for most fans from my era. I don't own all their music, but to me they are a "live" band, anyway, and tonight they did not let down.
There is always a danger that any band that has been on the road for nearly 40 years will mail it in from time to time. But last night it was apparent that Little Feat were in a playing mood, and even playing the favorites, they were stretching themselves while taking new directions to the songs. Every song was recognized by its signatures, but not one song was done like the recorded version.
It would be impossible to highlight any one player tonight, though I will. Paul Barrere was exceptional, as his guitars were strong, confidant and his occasional twist brought little laughs from his band mates. Richie Hayward is one of my 
favorite drummers, and his timing and cymbal work was impeccable. He is truly the heartbeat of this band. Kenny Gradney was "into" the groove on bass while Sam Clayton and Bill Paxton were content to let the others shine, applying the right amounts of rhythm and texture.
There are always debates on who is an underrated drummer or guitar player. Allow me to place the name Fred Tackett for consideration. Tonight, the friend of Lowell George and Arkansas native seemed inspired, perhaps by his earlier witnessing of Allen Toussaint. Maybe it was the Stockholm surroundings. Whatever it was, it was his energy that got the band started, and continued cooking throughout the night. He is a very, very good musician and his joy in playing with these guys was easily recognized last night.
Little Feat played right up until curfew, when the stage crew was literally ready to pull the plug. Which was unfortunate for this audience, who got to witness a veteran band doing what they do best, playing their asses off. We could have handled a lot more.
I was going to delay this post until I had drifted over to see "Captain Fingers", Lee Ritenour play his set on the small stage. Unfortunately, I will not be seeing Lee, but fortunately, from where I sit I can hear every note. Lee is living up to all expectations and the area is jammed with his appreciative fans.
Why the sudden need to put down words instead of watching the famous guitarist? Because if I were to pass on to my great reward , I could say to St. Peter that I saw Allen Toussaint tonight and everything he did was funky. OMG, was it ever.
During the Dr. John set, I found myself sitting next to a fellow aficionado and writer for "THE WORLD'S OLDEST BLUES MAGAZINE", Jefferson, named after Blind Willie and not Thomas-though he might have been a bluesman. Anyway the guy's name was Peter, and it might be his last name is Nyström. We were talking about the Dr. John set and I said I was looking forward to the Toussaint set. Peter remarked that the Swedish critics had not liked the album called, "Bright Mississippi." I answered that even though Toussaint was probably the biggest studio guy in no, that the studio does not do these bands justice. I think my guy, Sal, doesn't travel to the Crescent City to hear the definitive album versions. Bands from NO need the energy of an audience to truly come alive, to stretch their musical muscles and to let the music breathe that funky air.
Toussaint, for the uninitiated, and I feel foolish for even writing this, has a catalog of music he has written that could be a rock and roll/soul hall of fame by itself. He played a medley of hits that included "A Certain Girl", "Mother In-law", "Fortune Teller" and "Working in a Coal Mine". This was after he did a very soulful version of "Slipping Sally Through The Alley". There are many tunesmiths who could have cut the coupons with a catalog like that, especially considering the British bands that filled their LP's with those cuts from Toussant.
But why rest on your laurels when you have a little over an hour to fill? So he gave us a rendition of New Orleans ex-pat Sidney Bechet's "Egyptian Fantasy". He spoke very movingly of the Scots singer, Frankie Miller. Toussaint then performed "With You In Mind", from the Toussaint produced record, "High Life". Miller has never fully recovered from a brain hemorrhage he suffered in 1994.
Throughout the set, Allen was totally at ease, smiling and nodding while moving from song to song. He was generous with his band, allowing each to shine during their solos. Backed by a rhythm section of drums and percussion along with the amazingly talented Roland Geary on bass, this band absolutely cooked. If Dr. John was the roux, then the Toussaint Band brought the ingredients to a full boil. Sal, please catch drummer Jay Bellerose if he is in NO your next trip there. And is there anything as funky in soul and R&B music then a tasty wah-wah pedal? Marc Ribot knows exactly how much is right to make the solo just right.
Doing the song "Everything I Do Is Gonna Be Funky" was really an understatement and then Toussaint did something unexpected. As a coda, he ran through a solo piano medley playing snippets from every influence he has culled. From Mozart to Professor Longhair, from Be Bop jazz to Broadway show tunes, the notes just poured out as if the player was telling his audience, these are the lessons that made me funky.
Finally, "New Orleans Man", "Get Out My Life" and,in the tradition of all soul performers, leaving to the strains of "Southern Nights" while "Clap Your hands for Mr. Allen Toussaint!", was chanted over and over. With a smile and a bow, and a final salute to the Crescent City flag colorfully waving in the audience, Allen Toussaint left the stage.
To me, there is no greater compliment then when a fellow entertainer genuinely expresses his pleasure at the set he is watching and listening to. If Fred Tackett of Little Feat dancing and applauding in the stage wings means anything, then I would think he liked the Bright Mississippi Band of Mr. Allen Toussaint.
As for me, I can not only say I saw the legend, but I will rest in peace knowing I have. Gotta go, The Blind Boys of Alabama are making the pot simmer.
Like any good New Orleans cook will tell you, to start a meal you need to prepare a good roux. The 2009 Stockholm Jazz Festival prepared their staring roux to perfection.
Mac" Rebennack, Jr., Dr. John, started this year's event by walking slowly to his piano and proceeded to lead the audience through a lesson in down home New Orleans soul cooking.
Dressed in a grey suit with black pin striping, snakeskin loafers and a fedora trimmed in a blue scarf, Dr. John was back home on the bayou. To see the Night Tripper in broad daylight sans any back up was disconcerting but apropos to be playing on a stage by the river side. As a solo is probably the best way to experience the man.
In this manufactured Idol star machine of today's music, one can only wonder if there are any artists willing to put in the long hours in cat houses, bars and gambling joints where Max learned his chops. Tipping his musical hat to people like James Booker and Allen Toussaint (who would be following Dr. John), Max grew stronger as the performance went on. Completely turning around his signature "Wrong Place" as well as the classic "Walk On Gilded Splinters," Dr. John gave us all a lesson in what it means to be from New Orleans. Rather than giving us fans the expected gloss of the Night Tripper, Dr. John delivered the gospel of the gris-gris man.
Max told the crowd that his last record was a pissed off record, because of the travesty of the treatment of his city, New Orleans. "What my friends need is a second line," referring to the city's celebration of life during funeral processions. Finishing his musical sermon with "Merci boucous, and all of that shit", Dr John left the stage like he entered, with minimum fuss.No, Dr John, thank you for laying the message down.
Dashing from the tent, I met Eva and we visited some friends in front of one of the food tents. Luckily, it faced the main stage where five elderly and blind men from the deep rural south were connecting with the decendents of Vikings. I mean they were connecting, Pilgrim. By the end of the set, the Five Blind Boys of Alabama had the audience at the Stockholm Jazz Festival talking in tongues.
favorite drummers, and his timing and cymbal work was impeccable. He is truly the heartbeat of this band. Kenny Gradney was "into" the groove on bass while Sam Clayton and Bill Paxton were content to let the others shine, applying the right amounts of rhythm and texture.
