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This World-Wide Web Zone
is dedicated to Zydeco and the Creole and Cajun Musics of Louisiana. We are The KingBees of the Bayou--zydeco rootsworkers for the Zydeco Nouveau experience.
The KingBees of the Bayou
are busy
cross-pollinating the music of the future--hot as pepper sauce, sweet as bayou honey, Zydeco Noveau!
DON'T YOU DARE FORGET NEW ORLEANS
Wednesday 2/20/08
Right now at home, we're watching the first of three DVDs of Spike Lee's documentary When the Levees Broke: A Requiem in Four Acts , a film that first aired in August of 2006. Powerful stuff.
It's heartbreaking to watch. It fills you with consternation and puzzlement as you watch the clueless and inhumanely slow response to the folks in peril in one of our nations greatest cities. When the documentary shows Canadian Mounties arrive before our own Federal response, you feel as though you've been translated to cloud-cuckoo land. What happened? And why?
I remember when the Kingbees played at a benefit for the Firefighters of New Orleans. The governor of Washington State attended along with the attorney generals of Louisiana and Washington state. There were a bunch of New Orleans firefighters there who we shook hands with. They told us--flushed with relief--that they thought they'd been forgotten. They said that just knowing that somebody on the outside thought about them at all, remembered that they were alive, was a relief.
Abandoned--that's how they felt.
The state of Louisiana, New Orleans--they've given us so much. This city is our Barcelona, a mixture of styles and attitudes that enliven the whole United States. Remember them and figure out a way to do something. Even now--so long after--it just might help.
Good Things,
Marconi
Talking Mardi Gras
Monday 2/18/2008
A Saturday night in Bellingham. A Mardi Gras event. An oxymoron?
I thought so--that is--until Saturday, February 9th at the Leopold Hotel in downtown Bellingham. The event was put on by the Downtown Renaissance Network.
$50 dollars a head?
We came in an began setting up at 2:00 in the Leopold Ballroom. It was our first Kingbees gig with Mike Schway , a really talented Cajun/Creole fiddle player (also a talented Cajun accordion player). I was looking forward to it. After a long break last summer while I was taking care of family business, I was looking forward to playing our zydeco with the Kingbees.
But Mardi Gras in the Northwest is always a risk. Something about the masks, the beads, the non-stop celebration vibe can be a challenge for audiences in our neck of the woods. The best laid Mardi Gras plans can often go astray. As one of the few zydeco bands in the Pacific Northwest, we've seen it happen. More than once.
But--not this time.
The costumes started arriving shortly after 7:00pm. Two folks came in dressed as gorillas--and never spoke a word of human. Beads and masks were plentiful. Spirits were high.
The Bees played an extra hour. We were just having too much fun. People wanted to dance--and that's what this music and the Louisiana culture are all about. We played on. Having the Cajun fiddle (in my mind) completes the sound.
Thanks to Ginger and all the folks at DRN (Downtown Renaissance Network) for hosting us at the Leopold. Magic night. Magic people.
Mardi Gras at The Leopold
Tuesday 2/5/2008
The Kingbees are happening this Saturday in downtown Bellingham at the Leopold Ballroom as The Downtown Renaissance Network (responsible for the Concerts in the Alley last summer) put on their Mardi Gras fundraiser. These folks are throwing a mighty Mardi Gras shindig with all the extras, beads, masks, performances by Dream Science Circus--all to put you in the mood to celebrate the uncrushable day that turns Louisiana into a wall-to-wall party experience.
Come to the event and experience The Kingbees of the Bayou--with all the trimmings. Downbeat is at 7:00. Bon temps roulet, mes amis!
Saturday, 4/5/2007
Kingbees Take the Summer Off
It's been eighteen years (yes--The Bees have been together that long!) and eighteen summers of festival gigging, our mission to bring zydeco to events throughout the Northwest, from Vancouver, British Columbia to Philipsburg, Montana. But--the time has come . . . to take the summer off, to have a personal life.
I'm taking the family to Costa Rica. Blades (who is now teaching high school mathematics!) is going to prep classes for the fall and kick back and work on his tan. Johnny is (right now!) checking out some big waves in Hawaii. Our own David Payne --the Guitar Doctor himself--is starting his very own corporation to bring a sound revolution to the world of instrument manufacture. Buck will be checking out every nook and cranny of this world searching for the ultimate music gear to supercharge his sound.
A summer off--what a concept!
Oh, you'll see us this summer. If Geno Delafose plays Seattle--we'll be there. Rosie Ledet? Look for us in the crowd. Wherever you find Louisiana making itself known in the Pacific Northwest, we'll be one of the heads bopping to the roots sound. Count our smiles among the smiles that this sound produces on the human body.
Of course, we'll be back in September to pick up the roots-quest once again. The quest continues.
Onward, roots-folks, onwards.
Friday, 1/19/2007
Awesome Summers Remembered
That was one. Last summer. And now--here in the midst of Winter, with the holidays dead, gone, and resented (bah, humbug, eternally, sisters and brothers!)--I remember all that happened last summer that we never got to blog about.
Opening for Buckwheat
Meeting Buckwheat Zydeco was the high point. We opened for Buckwheat & crew at the Nitelight Lounge here in Bellingham. Buckwheat is (if you care about the music and the history of the music of Louisiana) going into the history books. Creole to the core, he creates a soulful vortex of sound and sensibility whenever he plays. No matter how you feel about zydeco--the funkiest and most ignored music to my way of thinking in the musical universe right now--Buckwheat brings something truly special, a strange and wonderful kind of dignity that lifts you above this got-to-make-a-buck world and convinces you (without ever speaking a single word) that this music we're exploring is one of the most important, most valuable things on the planet. Because: sometimes with the whirling spinning world of the everyday confusing the issues--it is easy to get wires crossed and priorities scrambled.
Robbie and I went and knocked on the door of the room where Buckwheat and Lil Buck Senegal were relaxing after their sound check. They were both incredibly gracious and welcoming. I read the palms of both of these master musicians and dropped off a copy of the book Palms Up: A Handy Guide to 21st Century Palmistry. What gracious people--what an incredible experience.
Playing for the Firefighters of New Orleans
Not too long after The Kingbees played for the Firefighters of New Orleans, the governor of Washington State, and the attorney generals of Louisiana and Washington state. In the wake of Katrina, we need to remember these brave people who put everything on the line to respond to their community's need. Another great honor for The Kingbees of the Bayou.
Awesome summer. The Rocky Mountain Accordion celebration in Philipsburg, Montana. Hanging out with the Campbell Brothers. Meeting Ray Harryhausen--a god of my childhood.
Life is sweet. Even in the midst of Winter. We forget. Sitting here in Bellingham with the rain (and night) falling, listening to the wind of winter whip the house--I remember the good times. I remember that they're coming (again) soon.
Ciao.
Monday, 8/21/06It's a long way to Philipsburg--11.5 hours at conventional speeds, through mountain passes and some of the most gorgeous landscape imaginable: rolling plains of dry grass that are the bright yellow of mustard, valleys cut by meandering creeks--all punctuated by our road-weary jokes about measuring the sky to determine the way in which, centimeter by centimeter, it is becoming perceptibly large, larger, largest.
Big Sky Country. This is it.
Of course the sole reason for this butt-punishing trek to Philipsburg, Montana in a Chevy Suburban loaded with musical gear is to headline the Rocky Mountain Accordion Celebration. With a name like Accordion Celebration, it is impossible to turn down the opportunity for the Kingbees of the Bayou to be there and do this.
Coming into town we pass a log cabin-looking structure that is combination convenience store, casino, restaurant, all in one. The celebration (of accordions) is already begun. At least five performers on the squeezebox are aligned across a makeshift stage with a full audience of accordion-lovers listening intently on folding chairs. Next to this is a dry, flat lot full of an imaginable variety of recreational vehicles--all huge, all white. These are the celebrants--the folks who've driven from all over these here United States, from California and Wyoming, from the near of Boseman, Montana and the far of Phoenix, Arizona. We make a sharp left off the highway and begin the slight ascent to Philipsburg proper, the scene of many accordion crimes to come.
We park. And as we step down the ancient Wild West street, Johnny breathes: "It's like stepping into a Norman Rockwell painting." Americana to the absolute limit. Main Street has been taken over by accordions of every size and description. Every description, that is, if you're talking piano keyboard accordions. I'll be the only one here celebrating the one-row and the three-row accordion featured in the music of the Creole and Cajun folks of Louisiana. But the fun has begun.
The Awesome Polka Babes are holding the stage as we arrive. Awesome and cool. The Smiling Scandinavians will take the stage in a bit. Lots of smiling folks here, and we smile and explore the town.
The Kingbees of the Bayou have an enormously good time in Philipsburg. The gospel of down-home Zydeco fusion is spread. We hang out with Dale--one of the festival organizers and the most monstrously talented player of The Sticks that can be imagined. Hats off to Dale!--and everyone else who made this celebration of accordions possible. Long may they (their town and their celebration) wave. If you get down that way--don't forget to check out Boulder Creek Lodge. The Kingbees stayed in the Bunkhouse, played pool in the game room, and chilled out in the hot tub. Paradise.
Good things to these folks and all the Rocky Mountain Accordion Celebrations to come.
Sunday, 5/14/06
Happy Birthday, Gator Boy
& Zydeco Creatures of the Night
The Kingbees were just breaking from their marathon one-and-a-half hour first set at the New Orleans restaurant in Pioneer Square when we find out that Gator Boy Sean Donovan is in the house with a large contingent of zydeco dance fanatics from the local scene. Nothing more fun than this music and a warm first-of-the-summer night in the Emerald City.
Sean Donovan--love this man (in, of course, an exclusively most manly downhome Cajun/Creole way). A torch for the roots Cajun/Creole experience, Sean and his site Gator Boy Productions is where all of us go to check out what's happening for our favorite music. I knew that Saturday was his birthday--and though the Kingbees had invited him down to the New Orleans to hear us--I really had very little hope that we would see him.
But see him we did--along with an extended zydeco family of rootsfolks deeply into the hoodoo of this music. Looking out over the bobbing and weaving sea of heads as we sang the words penned by J. Paul Jr. (of Zydeco Nubreedz fame) "I don't know what you came to do--but we came to zydeco" just made our Louisiana-led hearts to go thumpety-thump.
O long may you wave, Zydeco People.
All of the Kingbees of the Bayou wish Sean long life and every success. You rule, Gator Boy. And to every zydeco dancer whose happy feet and swaying form testify that this swampy soulful music has deep-digging, life-enhancing roots--eh toi, O surely, eh toi!
Thursday, 4/20/06
We Speak Zydeco Here
All kinds of kinky thrills here in the last couple of weeks. I met my childhood hero, Ray Harryhausen--the animator behind The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad and other delectable treats of my young life--when I desired nothing more to be part of that swarthy swashbuckler's crew and sail off in search of treasure--and monsters. Ah, the Cyclops--now, that's a monstre to cheer the heart of every geek-boy and geek-girl.
And--on Sunday--Peter Stampfel of the Holy Modal Rounders shows up to be a part of the screening of The Holy Modal Rounders: Bound To Lose --a wonderful (and depressing) documentary about this lovable duo of folkies that never quite made it to mainstream popularity and attention due to several factors (the chief one of which appears to be the siren-song of an over-indulgent lifestyle). But--one hasn't truly lived until one witnesses a Rounder like Peter Stampfel launch into a banjo-fied rendition of the Bond-film theme song "Goldfinger" with truly addled enthusiasm.
So--I'm blessed. We'll be down at The Rogue Hero on Friday night--dedicating our first weekend night to the joys of Zydeco. Robbie and I will be debuting the double steels at this event--so it's not to be missed.
Pour le musique du racines--eh toi!
Thursday, 4/20/06
Savoy-Doucet No Show in Pacific Northwest
Well--there was not too much joy up here in the northern corner of Washington State. And no glowing reviews of Savoy-Doucet from the Lincoln Theater in Mount Vernon, Washington.
Leigh and I were all dressed up and ready to go--waiting for two other musical couples to show up for the short drive down to the Lincoln Theater to experience some of our favorite folks from Louisiana Marc and Anne Savoy and Michael Doucet--when we got a call on the phone from the Lincoln Theater--to let us know that the show had been cancelled. Strange. At that moment I realized that the Lincoln Theater--only about an hour from curtain--was trying desperately to tell folks who'd bought tickets that the show would not be happening. Monumental task.
I've had more than a few emails wondering when I was going to post a review. I'd be curious to know what in fact happened (or if anyone attended The Tractor show which was scheduled for the following day). Did our favorite Cajuns ever touch down?
Let us know.
Good things to all Bee Folk.
Mark
Friday, 3/31/05
Savoy-Doucet Band Invades Pacific Northwest
You turn 80--you give yourself a birthday.
And--you might as well do it Louisiana style, where it is always time no matter how old you are to cut a rug with extreme prejudice and party until you scare the gators--yes? So it makes wonderful sense for one of the best performing venues in the Northwest to remind itself what life is all about by bringing one of America's premier Cajun accordion players and the swooping fiddle of Michael Doucet--along with one of the shining lights of The Magnolia Sisters to liven up the party.
A week and a day from today, friends and neighbors, April 8th at the Lincoln Theater we'll be taking our turn with rootsy gusto as these three dazzle us with 2-steps and waltzes from Louisiana--cradle of great American music. Tickets are fifteen bucks (in advance, that is) .
A steal. I'll be there--and if you see me--I'll read your palm for free--something I usually only do at Kingbee gigs. Liagnappe, yes?
And--speaking of Liagnappe--there will be a Cajun Jam following the concert. Folks are invited to bring their instruments--rubboards, triangles, accordions. It's catered (shrimp, fried okra, good brews)--so the party will just keep on rolling into the night. The after-party is twenty bucks with food and a beer.
I've got my tickets--now, you get yours. See you there.
Oh--here's a link to the Lincoln's website.
Sunday, 3/26/06
Corey Ledet--God of the Triple Row Teaches
Playing the three-row accordion?
We've talked about Wilson Savoy and The PineLeaf Boys in the past. I urge you to go over there (this moment is good) and check out the DVD put together by Wilson and Corey Ledet. The DVD entitled The Corey Ledet Triple Row Accordion Instructional DVD (what could be more straightforward?) is a winner. You can find it here at http://almenapictures.com/coreyledet_inst.html--and (with high-speed internet) see a preview. If you're a player, y ou'll want to purchase this DVD ASAP. Those of us who are trying to follow in the footsteps of Clifton, Boozoo, Beau Jocque, and other masters of the supreme art of zydeco know that there is next to nothing available out there in the world to tune us zydeco wannabes up on our instrument of choice. Zero. Zip. Nada.
Scarce is thy name.
If you're a guitar player, much is available. From Gypsy Jazz to African finger-picking-style, guitar players are covered and supported by teachers competent, willing, and able to impart the valuable basics of playing in just about any style one can think of. Not so the accordion. Till now.
Now comes Corey Ledet to give us some purchase on our chosen music and instrument. I give this my Kingbee highest rating. Hanging with Corey in your practice space will quickly raise your skill level (and your hopes). The material is clearly taught. You get "Zydeco Boogaloo" and "Jolie Blonde" done in the swampy three-row style. Authentic. Sweet. Although the video shoot is low tech and casual, shot in what looks like Wilson's kitchen, it has everything needed to get you going & rockin'.
Cool.
Saturday, 1/28/06
Fritz Richmond, King of the Jug & Washtub Bass
Oh, my man.
Fritz Richmond, the jug and washtub player for the unforgettable Jim Kweskin Jug Band, passed away in November, the twentieth, on a Sunday. God bless his soul and long may he ramble, finding only good things in the great beyond. Only good things.
The coolest and most ridiculous sounds in all of roots music come from The Jug and the Washtub Bass. But after the era of the great jugbands, the technique disappeared with its players and became a vanished art. Fritz Richmond virtually and truly reinvented the sound of the jug and the washtub bass for our modern folk-ey times, performing the resurrection by some hardly to be imagined feat of speculative musical sorcery. Richmond did this at a time when the only records that existed of how jugs and washtubs were once played could be found only on scratchy and decomposing 78s to be found in the bins of thrift stores and antique shops.
Remember: Fritz Richmond did this back in the early 1960s.
Miraculous.
Just found out about this tonight, months after it happened. In a world fashioned more closely to the will of Sherman, the passing of Fritz Richmond would have been a thing of greater notoriety. But, even so, tonight this website holds a candle aloft in his name and acknowledges the contribution of Fritz Richmond to a better, a funkier, world. To listen to Mister Richmond was to enter a land of smiles.
Every good thing to his spirit and to those who love him.
Saturday, 1/28/06
Exploring The Bluerunners Site
We live in an age of collisions and fusions, a time of revivals and explorations. Who would have thought that we might see the rebirth of klezmer music, a full rebirth that includes everything from note for note excursions into the work of Naftulie Brandwien or the avant garde klezmer work that came (is it still coming?) out of New York's The Knitting Factory?
Which brings me to The Bluerunners, a group who hail from Lafayette, Louisiana and whose music synthesizes elements that include the Cajun classics while exploring what their online bio calls "cow punk."
Cow punk?
I don't know. Their music synthesizes all the sounds of Louisiana music in a vibrant and moving concoction, both melodic and rocking of Cajun and Creole roots music. Zydeco and Cajun elements pushing and pulling, stewing about, to make something very fine.
Check them out here.
You'll find tasty morsels from their CDs, some Quicktime material that will give you a sense of what they are like live, and a podcast. Word (from Sean Donovan of Gator Boy Productions) is that The Bluerunners will be in the Northwest this summer. I'll be there.
Thursday--1/26/06
Wilson Savoy--The Pine Leaf Boys
Oooh, weeeee!
What the Internet doth make available to those of us cruising hopelessly off the beaten path, walking up and down, to and fro, exploring these unlighted byways of rural American roots music, the highest of hi-tech highways allowing us to browse the strange, primitive, and completely beautiful music that leads us on, ever on. And, yes, by now there's little doubt in my mind that we're headed toward some distant folk-ish revival that is a coming soon, someday soon.
At least, that's what I--in my present sicky-boy state--dream is comin' down the pike at us. Think about what O, Brother hath wrought on the pop landscape. For the first time in memory you can walk into just about any music store in the land and pull right down off the wall a mandolin--or a banjo. Weird.
Last night, socked in by bronchitis and unable to sleep, running through my zydeco bookmarks, I find at the Savoy Music Center link (it's off there to your left) a new link to The Pine Leaf Boys, which I also find out is Wilson Savoy's (pronounced: Sa-vwhah) new band. Neat.
Do go there. Do check out the Pine Leaf Boy's site, and especially take a gander at the Quicktime movies of the band at work. Exciting stuff. Live and up-close, appearing at Lafayette's Blue Moon Saloon.
You can see movies at The Bluerunners site as well. Just a few clicks away.
The Pine Leaf Boys. The Lost Bayou Ramblers. The Bluerunners. What an incredible time we live in. Louisiana music percolating up through the universal roots and--changed and changing--making a mark on the landscape of our ears. The New Mix.
I love this, love these sounds, alive and vital, even though I know that (most very probably) the same skirmishes, same battles, that occurred in the late Fifties and early Sixties in the world of Folk-ish music are sure to be fought again. The same silly skirmishes over which is the "true" music. Will intelligent music-lovers once again debate the question of who is playing the real stuff--and which humans are offering a blasphemous and counterfeit simulacrum of the saving sound?
Skeptical?
Check out No Direction Home , Martin Scorsese's documentary on the life and times of Bob Dylan that recently ran on PBS and is now available on DVD. Here you'll see (if you lived through those days) your growing-up days, musically speaking. You'll find Dave Van Ronk, Jim Kweskin (Mel Lyman tooting away on that warbling harmonica), Maria Muldaur, Pete Seeger. You'll view clips from that wonderful (and, as far as I know, still unreleased) documentary of the Newport Folk Festival, Festival . Oh, yes, and beautiful black and white clips of my hero Howling Wolf and his band.
But the documentary will also remind you of the bone-deep animosity that many Folkies felt toward Dylan and his turn toward electricity. Betrayed--is how they felt. Dylan and Dylan's music as act and anthem of the traitor.
Shall we agree, my friends, not go go there?
Wednesday--1/25/06
SL-8 Arrives and I Bemoan My Fate
The last time I was this sick, I wound up in the hospital in Concord, California, Mount Diablo hospital (sound like something out of Stephen King, yes?), with my body just this side of checking out. So--I'm spooked. Bronchitis. Something I don't want to become pneumonia of any kind. Never. Not. No way. All I want to do is get well and go back to work and keep on working on my zydeco--and (now) my sacred steel.
Steel. Sacred steel.
Most of you who have seen The Bees lately have heard the New Sound. Zydeco meets Sacred Steel. Yes, we moved Robbie from bass to steel guitar--with a steel guitar sound that owes more to Robert Randolph (currently touring with Santana) and The Campbell Brothers than to Buddy Emmons and the Country music side of things. I love this new sound for The Bees. The sound (to my ear) is pure Louisiana roots music. When I listen I see prairies, flat fields heading out to the horizon and dirt roads.
So, yesterday, I was thrilled when the package from the Sierra Steel Guitar Company arrived, black and beautiful, containing my SL-8, a Sierra Guitar's eight-string lap steel. Talk about heavy. In its case, lifting the SL-8, you feel the tug of gravity in all its fullness, dragging you back to the earth, back to the roots.
Cool.
Hats off to Tom Baker, heartbeat and soul of Sierra. Although I realize it's made of wood and steel, it's more--a beautiful and supernatural creature capable of singing.
As soon as I get over the hump of this bronchitis, I'll post some pictures.
Remember: we're only a little over a month away from Mardi Gras. Bon temps roulet.
Sunday--11/6/05
Memories of Louisianathon 2:
My Life For the Chanky-Chank
Right now, I'm sitting here listening to Ray Abshire (and friends) kick out Bosco Stomp on my computer. It's a Sunday night here in the Pacific Northwest--and at 6:16 pm it's black as a coal chute outside the window.
This is one hot record--made especially hot due to the fact that it brings back memories of the Saturday night of Louisianathon, certainly a night to remember for all of us who were there at the Mercer Island VFW a week ago last night and experienced Ray Abshire and Courtney Granger play the feel-good music that makes us remember that there is a lot more to life than whatever personal 9 to 5 allows us to pay the rent and keep our lives afloat. Much more.
It started for this Kingbee on Saturday afternoon with an accordion workshop starring Ray Abshire. Really--what can someone teach you in two hours of instruction? Realistically--not a lot. The worth of a workshop like this is how much it inspires you to pursue the truth of your instrument (in this case the accordion). Ray's workshopping lit a fire under all of us who attended. You couldn't come away from this close encounter with modern Cajunianity without a deepened and renewed respect for the soul of this music.
All of Louisianathon was like this. Deep mojo. Wonderful folks hanging with each other, sharing company, dancing to the Very Real Thing--all night long.
Thanks to everyone who made this year's Louisianathon happen. Long May You Wave.
Sunday--10/2
Kash for Katrina
Man, so much has happened since the last entry in the blog. We were all set to head for Louisiana, camping gear (and reservations) in hand. Bright -eyed we were, coats shiny, tails wagging.
And then: Katrina. It spun the world into a strange and terrible jumble and did unspeakable things to the city and state we love so deeply and dearly. We heard that Buckwheat Zydeco played this year at Bumbershoot in Seattle on Labor Day weekend--with tears in his eyes through most of his set. Man, our hearts go out to these people.
As should our cash.
Brian Wilson personally called anyone who donated $100 to the Katrina fund before October 1st. He raised over a $1000,00. We've been impressed by the goodwill extended by the American people in the wake of this terrible natural disaster.
On Thursday of this coming week--that's October 6th, The Bees will be part of a benefit at the Wild Buffalo House of Music. This event will feature 10 bands for 10 bucks--and will last from 4 o'clock in the afternoon until almost 2 o'clock in the morning. Bring your bodies (and your cash). Let's try to do some small thing to help these folks recover from what happened to them. If you love music, if it matters to you, if you've made it a major part of your life and its meaning--do what you can to put some balm on the wounds caused by Katrina to the cities and the state that have been the cradle of so much wonderful music.
The Bees would like to personally thank Andy Koch for being such a trooper--donating so many hours of his time (and so many of his brain cells to make this happen. We treasure Andy's contribuition on this event. He deserves all the props we can give. Kudos, Andy. Kudos.
We'll see so you at The Wild Buffalo. Wonder how to get there? Follow this link.
August 21, 2005
Confessions of a Zydeco Enthusiast:
A Tale of Addiction
I was tremendously excited when I heard that the Campbell Brother's new album I Can Feel It was out.
Ever since we moved Robbie to steel, we've been listening to and looking at The Campbell brothers, Darrick on lap steel and Chuck on pedal steel. Looking for inspiration.
In the search for Roots Music--nothing is ever simple, even in this age of Amazon.com and electronic shopping--because when you have to have something, when you need it, FedEx just won't do. So--I began looking high and low for the new album on Martin Medeski's Ropeadope label. Looked on I-Tunes. I-Tunes didn't have it (although they've got all the other Campbell Brothers--every last one ready and waiting for instant download if you possess a high-speed internet connection) all you need is an I-Pod. Amazon had it . . . but I was way too excited--in a fever actually--to have this music.
What inspired this mania, this got-to-have-it now? Well, the Campbell Brothers, despite the sacred and the lofty themes of their music, tunes like "Sign of the Judgment" and "Amazing Grace," are diabolic in their marketing methods. Right now you can hurry over to here, the Campbell Brothers web-site, and pick up a single tune "Good All The Time" for free. This crisp and funky piece has a relentlessly funky groove. I'm listening to it right now. Although it features the steel playing brothers, deep beneath the smoothly grooving surface is the rhythm guitar of Phil Campbell.
One download. That's what got me started.
You download--and then (of course) your completely frantic to get the rest of I Can Feel It immediately--or sooner. Since I live in a small town about 90 miles north of Seattle and about 60 miles south of Vancouver, British Columbia, access to the coolest music on the planet is not a 24/7 assured thing. Since with The Campbell Brothers--the hippest gospel music on the planet--a music that features not the Hammond B3 organ--a staple of black gospel music since the '50s--but the steel guitar, both pedal and lap (more familiar to Merle Haggard and George Jones fans than the average contemporary music listener) give this music a somewhat esoteric slant.
But--wait a second--the steel sacred as it is will soon be more in the spotlight. Robert Randolph, the first person I ever heard fronting the steel in a style that has been compared to both Jimi Hendrix and Duane Allman, is currently on tour--opening for Carlos Santana. This opening position should introduce a few million Americans to the truly beyond the universe of the Grand Ole Opry state of the contemporary steel.
So--my point--follow the path of my addiction. Be a good music lover and go over to the Campbell Brothers site, do the download thing, and get addicted. You'll be glad you did. And at some future date when the two of us are staking out our territory in one of the world's back alleys--and a bitter wind is blowing and we're wrapped up tight in our tattered St. Vinny's coats that are four and five sizes too large for us--coats thickly insulated with enough month-old newspapers to keep away the most biting wind and the only thing we've managed to keep of the fortunes won and lost are the little I-Pods (our last worldly possessions) . . . well, we'll both be listening to the Campbell Brothers and you'll give me a grin with all those missing teeth of yours and with an unsteady thumbs up you'll say: "Thanks for the tip, mate."
Resistance is futile. Download the Campbell Brothers.
Like now.
July 8th, 2005
Still Crazy After All These Years:
Chubby Carrier Brings His Funky Zydeco Herd to The Wild Buffalo
"Where are you living these days?"
"Opelousas--where else?"
Where else, indeed? Standing in front of me is Early Salley, zydeco rubboard man extraordinaire, looking fit, looking a little older (maybe, just a little bit)--but, hey, it's been (what?) something like twelve years since The Kingbees played with this zydeco master.
Zydeco master?
Don't you have to be two or three times Earl's age to qualify for that title? And Earl's instrument is the zydeco scrubboard (known as the frattoir--say "frah-twah"). Surely the rubboard can't have a . . . master. After all it's just a long length of ribbed metal that hangs around the neck--and it's played with whatever's handy: knives, spoons, beer bottle openers. The frottoir is not an instrument that sounds like it should have a master.
But it does--and Earl's it. Since one picture is worth a thousand words, go check Earl out with Chubby Carrier and His Bayou Swamp Band. You'll see that no one plays this instrument like Earl (sorry, Blades!). He coaxes more rhythms, more grooves, out of this metal sheet than seem allowable by the laws of gods and men. A master. And it's good to see him and catch up on the doings in his life--all of this as the show is about to begin.
About to begin? Yes, because there are not one, but two zydeco masters here tonight--and Chubby Carrier--zydeco accordion master--is about to take the stage here at The Wild Buffalo.
And take the stage he does. If Geno Delafose is all roots and tradition, Chubby Carrier is the complete take-you-higher-experience with elements of funk, of blues, and jazz that come together like that rarest of creatures--a hot sauce that really works. Oh, yes, you can go down to the French Market in New Orleans a find (literally) walls of hot sauce, sauces with colorful names like Nuke Your Booty Until It Bleeds Hot Sauce--but it's rare to find a sauce that really works, one that truly satisfies.
And Chubby Carrier's music does. Satisfy, that is. His band? Truly out of this world. The rhythm section neither asks for or gives quarter, delivering the punchiest, funkiest feel dancers could ever wish for. And, Chubby? Chubby dazzles on the three row--a white Dino Baffetti cruiser with a truly huge sound and the Gabanelli three-row he will play later in the night. Watching Chubby's fingers produce riff after monstrous riff at warp speed--I'm humbled. Feeling both elated and wistful, I realize and deeply acknowledge what a truly long, long way (we're talking distances that can only be measured in parsecs) I've got to go before I can call myself an accordion player.
Ah, well.
Truly there ain't no party like a Chubby party--which by the way is the name of his latest CD, Ain't No Party Like a Chubby Party. If you're serious about fun, you should rush right over to Chubby's site here and order this CD. Every since Friday night, I've had this CD in heavy rotation on my I-pod, and even with The Summer That Isn't boiling in its imperial grayness and heavy rain clouds all around me--there's hot sunshine in my soul. On Sunday Chubby is playing up at the Harrison Hot Springs Festival. I'm going to try to go up and interview Chubby. If I can pull it off, I'll post the interview here on our Kingbee site next week.
Love, Peace, and Zydeco, Sisters & Brothers,
Mark
July 1st, 2005
Geno Delafose:
The Sovereign Remedy
for EVERYTHING That Ails You!
If you've got troubles, the blues, a case of the ohmigod-things-were-going-so-good-but-now-what? If you've got the whim-whams or the shivering heebie-jeebies--well, then, Geno Delafose and his French Rocking Boogie crew are just what the conjure man ordered--the very thing that will bring your smile back and get your mojo working in realtime.
Yes.
I witnessed it last night at the Nightlight here in Bellingham. Let's face it, there were only a few of us there, only a chosen few to enjoy Geno's roots goodness. The few. The mighty. The proud. While the rest of Bellingham was doubtless curled up in front of television and its flickering spectral light or softly snoring in dark rooms clocking REM-sleep so that they might as good citizens more ably serve their corporate masters, we ragtag zydeco fiends slipped into our zydeco trances and wandered with Geno into the roots-world where Creole accordion notes swirled and the most solid rhythm section imaginable drove us deep, deeper, deepest into the night.
I smiled for hours.
Who cares that the weather's crappy? That I worry more than I relax or celebrate this awfully precious thing called the summer of my fifty-fifth year on the planet?
Not me. Not after last night. Thanks, Geno. Although there were only a few of us present--not the huge, appreciative crowd you guys deserve if there were a drop of musical justice in this world--we send this message in your direction just a few days shy of this country's jolly 4th: Long May You Wave, Geno. Long May You Wave!
June 24, 2005
Palms Up!
My Book on Palmistry Due Out in Two Weeks
Show me your palm--that's right . . . hmm--you've got a very strong Life Line. I see many zydeco-friendly barbecues in your future. Many!
As those who have seen The Bees do their swampy thing know, I've been reading palms for as long we've been broadcasting our swampy Louisiana sound all over the pacific northwest, from the ferry terminal in Mukilteo to the semi-arid expanses of Yakima--where summers (unlike the ones here in Bellingham) are wonderfully dependable and air conditioners are a staple in every household.
I've read thousands of palms at our concerts, in homes, at huge corporate events like the Microsoft Picnic which annually plays hosts to visitors (to the tune of 16,000 a day!) from all over our ever-shrinking globe. I read palms because I've had a life-long interest in it--ever since a Creole woman read my palm in Jackson Square when I was all of twelve-years old and just passing through with my family on our way to my dad's (and our family's) new naval posting in Virginia.
I do it because palmreading is fun--because it makes people (even huge macho guys who look like they haven't gotten close to a smile in years) giggle, guffaw, and say Yeah! It's a way of contributing at every barbecue I've ever been to--of giving a gift to others--an act of passing along the fun and reminding the people whose palms I read that they are special, individual, a never-to-be-repeated and always-to-be-celebrated event in the great scheme of things.
Have you noticed that it seems like fun is getting rarer these days? And--as far as I'm concerned--fun needs no excuse. Grab it where you find it. Palmistry is fun--lots of fun. If you don't believe me--check out the book that I wrote with my co-author Sheila Lyon (Seattle's Diva of Divination and one of the most accomplished palmreader's on the planet). Although it comes out around July 5th, you can pre-order it on Amazon here.
I think you'll like. S'all right!
June 23, 2005
Campbell Brothers: The Steel Is Sacred
Robbie and I have been going a bit ultra-dimensional on the music of the sacred steel of late. As some of you know, The Bees are moving Robbie from the 5-string bass to the steel guitar for our summer concerts trying to create the zestiest, barbecue sound in the pacific northwest.
One of the things we've been doing is moving our ears toward the sounds of steel players like Robert Randolph and the Campbell Brothers (Darick and Chuck) now on tour with their band. If you haven't heard, these steel players put the world on notice that the steel guitar is not just for country music anymore, Lord, no. They serve up a searing, Tabasco-loving sound that is mighty in its moaning, call-and-responsing, sunday-go-to-meeting, swampland authority.
You can check out the Campbell Brothers (and even download a rocking vid of these brothers playing at their home church--here This site is dedicated to their new album Can You Feel It?--which just may be the most successful sacred steel album to date. 5 stars with a bullet of pure shouting glorious funk. The Brothers Campbell have two dvds out from Homespun Tapes disclosing their steel secrets. You can pick up the dvds here. Why not purchase all 3 and begin your baptism into the sounds and feeling of one of the biggest-sounding instruments on the planet: the steel guitar. Tell them The Bees sent you and begin your baptism today.
June 23, 2005
Countdown to Geno
Alright--the countdown has begun here in Bellingham. Geno Delafose and French Rocking Boogie are coming to the Nightligh here in the Pacific Northwest to a town not particularly noted for its love of zydeco. Twenty years ago Clifton Chenier played most of a week here--to half-full, half-hearted crowds that seemed unable to understand the value of the roots-gift that they had been given. My town is notoriously fickle. Geno has been here in the past as well. One night at what was then Bob's Tavern. With Geno rocking his way through a completely instrumental version of "Watch That Dog," people were shooting pool in the back and the crowd was light.
No accounting for taste.
But surely here in this pacific northwest fitful start of a summer--at least 50% rain and only now and then an occasional bright, perfect day, zydeco's time has come. Light up the barbecue and invoke the spirit of summer. Join us at the Nightlight for Geno--the man who's carrying on the creole tradition with an unstoppable single-row squeezebox, purely wailing its swamp pride and strutting its prarie pride.
Get the details (and buy the tickets) here. And see you there.
June 6th, 2005
Le Tracas De Morris
Like many of us, I find myself looking for the perfect sound, a sound for inspiration, music that makes you want to make music. Although it's an exploration that for most of us will be pretty much continous (with every evidence of never ending)--all of us make some memorable stops along the way. Le Tracas De Morris, just out from Maison de Soul and available over the web from Flattown Records is one of those.
I truly loved the album that Morris Ardoin made with his son, Dexter, Cajun and Creole Music of Louisiana, an album that--for me--captured the right-now down-here sound of Creole music--a sound that finds itself completely comfortable and at home at the next backyard barbecue--homespun and portable for those of us that crave that kind of thing. This album is in the same league as the early one--but recorded with much more skill. Morris Ardoin and Dennis Stroughmatt combine wonderfully on this one, playing standards like "Eunice Two Step" and "Quoi Faire," as well as originals like the title cut "Le Tracas de Morris."
If you like the Bois Sec (Ardoin, that is) sound, this is music in the same vein--wonderfully earthy and speaking from the roots. The final cut has Dennis Stroughmatt singing "The Bars of the Prison" that will have you reaching for the repeat control for one more spin. Guaranteed.
June 6th, 2005
Watching Geno Delafose Online
The Web is a mighty thing.
On Saturday morning, my partner Leigh and I lay on our pillow-top listening to the birds chirp their way through John Coltrane's "A Love Supreme--all the while staring into the screen of our laptop . . .
and speaking to our son who is half a world way in Magdenberg, Germany where he is acting as tour guide for a band called Engine Down as they tour the hinterlands of Germany. We were using a program called Skype which allows for free internet telephony--through one's computer. Although the sound (he told us) was echo-ey and laggy on his end of things--on our side of the big puddle it was crystal clear. Amazing like being in the same room and holding a casual conversation.
The Global Village, certainly.
Which brings us to watching Geno Delafose up close and personal on your home computer or laptop. Later that morning, I wandered over to the Millennium Stage at the Kennedy Center (just a few clicks away) and caught an on-line movie of Geno playing wonderful zydeco for the assembled multitudes. If you've got high-speed access, there's no better way to spend your discretionary down time than listening to a roots master do his thing. The page is here, and you'll find the link at the bottom of the page.
Very cool.
Sunday, June 5th
King Clifton on Vid
Got Neflix?
Just watched Arhoolie's DVD Clifton Chenier: King of Zydeco and loved every minute of it. I'd been waiting for it to come out--and then somehow spaced when it was actually released. So I was delighted when I was cruising the Netflix site for zydeco goodies and ran across this treat.
These are powerful Clifton performances. There are full-length clips of Clifton at the 1978 New Orleans Jazz and Heritage and at the 1982 San Francisco Blues Festival in supremely hoodoo-ish zydeco mojo mode. This documentary (that aside from a few one-on-one interviews taped off-stage at one of the concerts) is almost all concert footage with good sound. It also includes some rare and retro footage of Clifton and company on a local Louisiana television station with everyone in the band sporting crowns in never-fake-the-funk style.
This is a DVD that will make you feel proud to be a part of the wonderfully kinky and off-kilter world of zydeco. You can find it here at the Arhoolie site for the incredibly reasonable price of $20.00.
Order now and beat the rush. For those unfamiliar, this is a great site for roots music in general--and will tend to pry open your wallet and let escape great godzilla-size chunks of the folding green.
So--be careful. But not too careful.
Gumbo Novice Makes Good
Can I admit that I've never made gumbo before? Never made a roux?
Shamefacedly, I admit all of the above--and add the all-important until now! Today, for the first time this apostle of barbecue stood before a stove and put together his first gumbo and bid farewell to a past dependent on others for my Louisiana soul food treats.
Admittedly, I did not fly solo. My bon femme, Leigh, she who is the much more brilliant cook in this back-and-forth guided my steps aright, answering cheerfully my bone-stupid questions about the making of this mysterious and delicious dish. I struggled courageously to master my Fear of Cooking, and for the most part succeeded, bringing the dish to a fairly yummy conclusion.
The music of Louisiana goes even better with the food of Louisiana, a combination that is fine, mighty fine. And I've got to admit, the older I get (I turn 55 in June) the more I appreciate coming home to a close encounter with that which is most delicious. And gumbo--made even more piquant by the addition of some fiery Louisiana hot sauce--is one of those treats that stokes the engines of life.
And--who knows what's next? Where gumbo has gone, is not jambalya sure to follow?
Sunday, April 17th, 2005
For the Glory of Zydeco:
Braving the Monsoons
at the Tulip Festival:
We live in the Northwest. Therefore, we expect rain. Expect it in buckets, in fountains, by the churning channels-full. Ah, the wet!
But the rain (to my way of thinking) was particularly cruel this Saturday at the Tulip Festival in Mount Vernon where despite the torrential downpour The Mighty KingBees turned in two blistering sets of Creole-style zydeco. The Dansations--a hometown dance-group who were scheduled to go on at high-noon cancelled. They were unprepared to dance on the rain-slickened bricks of the downtown square where we would perform. A very smart move in my humble opinion with the water (seemingly) five-foot high and rising--and the square deserted except for musicians and vendors.
And--then--the rain stopped. Momentarily.
Perukallpah (the name means Peru Power)--a Peruvian band--went on at 12:30 and turned in a wonderful set of traditional tunes of Andean derivation. Here we were, in Mount Vernon, a beautiful example of small-town Americana, listening to multiple pan flutes weaving harmonies supported by the charango (a traditional Peruvian instrument, tiny, made from an armadillo shell) and guitar. Things perked up. This was it, the world Mcluhan spoke of in the Sixties: The Global Village. A strange combination: the smells of kettle corn and cotton candy mixing with strains of music invented a world away. Nice.
I was hopeful. The rain had stopped. The Bees took the stage and--let's face it--once you start playing zydeco, everything else fades to background. This was the maiden voyage for my three-row Dino Bafetti, and she performed her Creole best. What a blast to play! It rained a little, cleared a little. Our eternal gratitude to those folks who stuck it out, braving the rain like true Northwesterners. Wetproof. Much appreciated.
And so it went. A little rain. A little clearing.
By 3:45--our second set--the rain seemed to have actually stopped. For good. And this was the rain at its cruelest. Suddenly mid-set there was an actual blue window overhead. A large crowd gathered. Clifton, be praised--The Bees were cooking. Bob's accordion roared; Blades scrubboard hypnotized the onlookers; Buck Berg was Lord of the Low Ranges with his five-string bass.
And then--out of a clear blue sky--rainshowers. A drenching downpour on the fans who'd been lured out into the open.
The sky chuckled. This is the Northwest, after all. And its citizens need to be wise in the ways of precipitation. Eyes always open. Heads always covered.
And then--rain gods satisfied--the sky did clear for once and all. The Bees finished their set--and Spring seemed finally to have come to our coast. Tulip Festival 2005, finished. We thank the fans; we thank the vendors.
And--especially-we thank Rick Epting the man in charge of the performers at the festival. Rick's involvement and vision in selecting music for this event are what the renaissance in small-town American life is all about. Making it happen one event at a time. Roots music for the roots of American life. Hip.
Sunday, April 9th, 2005
Lost Bayou Rambles & More Louisiana to Come:
Hats Off to Gator Boy!
We went down to Seattle yesterday. Yes, we were headed down to pick up a friend of ours at Sea-Tac where she'd flown in from Calgary, but we mixed pleasure with pleasure--and headed down to The Highway 99 Blues Club located down on Seattle's Waterfront, across the street from the ferry terminal.
We arrived early, had dinner, and scored the best seat in the house for viewing The Lost Bayou Ramblers, right down front, where we could catch every move, every nuance ot this five-piece group of twenty-somethings from Lafayette Louisiana, home to the rootsy music we crave and love (or cravenly love). What a night!
If you're not yet familiar with the Lost Bayou boys, they consist of Louis Michot on fiddle and Cajun french vocals and his brother Andre on Accordian and Lap Steel (more on this later). Chris Courville plays stand-up drums in the style of Brian Setzer's former rockabilly band, The Stray Cats. He uses brushes which deliver plenty of rhythm while being kind on the ears. On slap-style upright bass, the rockabilly vibe is further enhanced and underlined by Alan Lafleur. Sporting duct tape on the index, middle, and ring fingers of his right hand, Lafleur adds a deep, wailing thump to the proceedings. Jon Bertrand on resonator guitar and attitude pushes the party-vibe into hyperdrive.
Little short of amazing, these boys.
They manage to take Cajun music and give it the sport and funk that it deserves--while presenting it in a raw state that retains a fiery conviction that is completely un-selfconscious. Although The Bees are (quite obviously) not folkie purists (see my last post)--I can appreciate when it's done more than right. In this case the pretty much completely acoustic stylings (they do have amplifiers, but their presence is minimal) of The Ramblers is a rocking joy to listen to from set beginning to end. We hear them working out on "Pilette Breakdown," "Bluerunner," and other Cajun classics. It doesn't matter (to me) that Lost Bayou sounds completely authentic, although they do. What matters to me is that they nail the groove so consistently that this hard-working music of rural Louisiana comes alive here in a waterfront blues club half a continent away from its birthplace. The music engages, seduces, pleases, makes you glad to be alive and relaxing to some of the best music on the planet. We work hard, and this music lets you (helps you) party hard. Thanks, Lost Bayou Ramblers. Thanks, Gator Boy Productions.
Probably most amazing to me is that these musicians are able to nail the swing-inflected Cajun music that was influenced by performers like Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys and Milton Brown and His Brownies. I've never heard anybody contemporary attempt this music with results that were anything but somewhat to utterly campy. For this music, Andre Michot moves to lap steel. Andre sits when he plays the accordion; he sits now when he plays the lap steel, little more than a slab of wood shellaced with shiny black paint with the strings set high above the fret board. Just this afternoon we saw one of the earliest of these instruments on display at the Experience Music Project, one of the earliest and most rudimentary electric instruments ever created. Pure retro. Yet the Ramblers rip into some Cajun swing-style classics and succeed in catching the ears and feet of this near capacity crowd at the Highway 99 Blues Club. This is authentic good-time music, not a precious (and campy) reproduction of dinosaur tunes exhumed from a La Brea of forgotten sounds. Serious fun. The dance floor fills--and stays filled.
This gives me ammunition. The Bees have been experimenting with the steel guitar for about a month now. We're unveiling it next Saturday at the Tulip Festival in Mount Vernon (about an hour north of Seattle). Robbie, the man we call Montana Zydeco, because he originally hails from Great Falls, is a mean pedal steel player. We played together years ago in The Wild West Show, a country band that toured Canada and the pacific northwest. The way the Lost Bayou Ramblers use the lap steel is wonderfully rhythmic and fine, a guiding light for using the steel in service of the music of Louisiana. By the time I'm writing this, I've already called Robby to get him on board with what I'm thinking of as the Lap Steel Thing. Eh Toi, my friends.
As I'm typing this up, I'm listening to Pilette Breakdown, the first and only CD the Lost Bayou Ramblers possess. I hope many more are to come. I know this one will be on heavy rotation here at our Grant Street home as Spring comes rolling through. What better backyard barbecue music could there be?
And--finally!--hats off to Sean Donovan and Gator Boy Productions for bringing this Louisiana music to our humble selves. And--he's not done--by a long-shot. Over the Spring and Summer, Gator Boy will be bringing some of the best Louisiana music to the Highway 99 Blues Club. Here are some of the folks coming our way:
Do we deserve it? Not unless we support our beloved Gator Boy and the Highway 99 Blues Club for making this happen.
I had a great Saturday, thanks to The Lost Bayou Ramblers and Gator Boy Productions. Many thanks.
Saturday, April 2nd, 2005
Is Electric Music of the Devil?
Read Greil Marcus's Invisible Republic.
Folkies either love or hate The Bees. And I think the roots of this love/hate stems from the ambivalence folk music fans feel toward the use of electricity, of technology, in music. Not all, but many feel that to plug in is to invoke entities from regions infernal. Weird.
I'm thinking this as I'm reading Greil Marcus's very fine Invisible Republic, a book that explores Bob Dylan's The Basement Tapes, the history of how they came to be, the times and attitudes that birthed the songs, and analyzes the controversy surrounding Dylan's move to performing with a very electric backup band. Although other writers have covered in detail this controversial era in Dylan's career, Marcus manages to point his analysis productively at the nexus that caused former Dylan fans in the United States and the UK in the 1960s to boo him at his concerts, shouting out "traitor!" and storming out in droves.
They had trusted Dylan, at least the acoustic one, the performer whose roots could be traced directly to Woody Guthrie (and no further). when he arrived--not in the purity and simplicity of his folkish self, but with the electric attitude (no matter how roots-inflected) that spoke of something beyond the fantasy of completely homemade music, of the city, of the radio and the popular charts.
Something similar is going on with the music of Louisiana as it spreads throughout the country--and is buried unspoken in folkie attempts to map and define true Cajun and Creole music. Marcus's Invisible Republic makes more sense of the motives behind this than any book I've read. Highly recommended.
Easter Sunday, 2005
Chubby Carrier Coming to Bellingham
You heard it here first. Zydeco star Chubby Carrier is coming to Bellingham's Wild Buffalo House of Music on July 1st. Even though, now, in March with the gray clouds scudding across the sky and rain threatening July might seem a bit too far down the road for contemplating, let me assure you that Chubby Carrier and the Bayou Swamp band will bop you with that zydeco groove stick. These guys are the real deal. Earl Sally--who used to play with Terrence Simien back in the day--is now a feature in Chubby's band. A few years ago when Earl was trying to make a go of it in the Seattle area, The Bees did a bunch of gigs with Earl on the mighty rubboard. We did The Central, the New Orleans Restaurant, and a bunch of other gigs with Earl, and they were most wonderful. Earl is a show stopper and should add mightily to the fun of a Chubby Carrier show.
For Accordion Fiends: Chubby is a master of the 3-row, and his music has an uptown/New Orleans feel to it, in the direction of Clifton's music in which elements of zydeco and rhythm and blues meld. You can find Chubby's site at chubbycarrier.com
The Buffalo is a great venue to see zydeco in. Big enough so there's much rug to cut--but tight and intimate as well with the accent on warm. The Bees will be hanging there. If you see me there, say hi--I'll read your palm.
Thursday, March 24th
A Date With Elizabeth
Summer dates are coming together--which includes The Bees coming to Bellingham's Elizabeth Park for an afternoon/evening of zydceco and cajun music on Thursday, July 28th from six to eight. Bring your selves and your children. Pack a picnic and be prepared to zydeco with other Bee folk.
The summer show is coming together right now. We'll be eating fire, escaping from straitjackets, and (hopefully!) demonstrating the weird & eerie properties of the Hoodoo Box--as well as taking our roots music to the next level.
The Next Level?
Yes. After something like thirteen years in the land of zydeco, mixing world-beat sounds with the music of Louisiana, the Bees are headed for the true heart of zydeco, for Creole and Cajun roots-beats the way they were played at house parties in Lafayette and Eunice when to have a shindig you took everything in your one room shack and laid it out in the field behind the house--which left the floors clear for a bit of high-stepping. I've been listening to one of my favorite albums over and over on my I-pod, Morris and Dexter Ardoin's Cajun And Creole Music Of Louisiana, and Robbie and I have just put together our version of "Zarico a Dexter," which will become our Kingbee set opener. It just speaks: zydeco! so loud and so clear. It will be our honor to bring it to Elizabeth Park in July.
If you haven't yet caught any of the concerts at Elizabeth Park, you're going to love this one. Imagine a small and beautiful park with shady trees and winding paths--distinctly old-timey, the way (in my opinion) a park should be. Now, pack it wall to wall with friendly folks and their families. There are vendors selling pasta and ice-cream and babies still in their strollers. A summer zydeco experience not to be missed.
The Elizabeth Park Concert Series goes on all summer long with great acts giving their all for summer and their community. Keep your eyes open for the schedule.
Saturday, March 18th
Preachin' Zydeco Continues
Work continues on the new cd, Preachin' Zydeco--the Bees 4th cd and the shortest one yet. We're hoping to hit our five-tunes-for-five-dollars mark on this one, something we were trying for on the last one, Freaky Zydeco--but things, well, got out of hand.
The new one is zydeco & Cajun--with a deep-roots deep-barbecue vibe foregrounded in a way that The Bees have never attempted before. The triangle comes to the fore in this set and we're emphasizing the more folk roots side of The Bees. I'm excited.
Preaching Zydeco will also be our first time working with a fiddle. This move is inspired by Boozoo's last studio album. The fiddle--as all and sundry know is one of the stable ingredients of Creole music and I fell in love with it both on Boozoo's Down Home On Dog Hill and on Morris and Dexter Ardoin's Cajun and Creole Music of Louisiana, two albums spinning perpetually on my I-pod. The album will feature lots of twin accordion (my brand-spankin' new Dino Baffetti will be a definite feature) and unstoppable zydeco rhythms.
So--stay tuned.
Sunday, February 27th
Dino Drops By
All the way from Italy to Iota, Louisiana--then--all the way from Louisiana to Bellingham, Washington, our own little patch of the pacific northwest, where rain is both Queen and King and summers are iffy at best (though supremely glorious when they do arrive --so did my Dino Baffetti accordion travel to get to me.
The Baffetti is black and beautiful (and I'm proud, so proud!) with a sound deep and resonant to its Bb-F-Eb core, a sound that just shouts zydeco! at the top of it lungs. Mankind's relationship with machines has had its ups and had its downs, but with me and my Baffetti it's Valentine's Day 365 days a year!
Thanks to Larry Miller of Bon Tee Cajun Accordions in Iota, Louisiana for making Dino and his family available to us North Americans (and for installing the pickup that makes Dino roar) he was truly a champ through the entire long process of getting the Baffetti from Castelfidardo, Italy to this town about ninety miles north of Seattle.
The accordion itself is the GLIIA--a three-row wonder in a rich, glossy black that is all sleekness and edge. Sean Ardoin (master of Zydekool) plays one. You can catch a glimpse of it on his site. In the light it looks almost dark, dark green--but it's black. And--although beautiful in a deep and non-trivial way, the Baffetti's beauty goes deeper than the visual. It's auditory sound is glorious and seductive, whispering of barbecues and summers to come, of gumbos and jambalayas yet to be tasted with a company of the tightest friends.
Love. Accordion love.
Headlining the Tulip Festival is The Bees next gig. Come and shake hands with Dino there--and listen to her roar. Eh, toi, my comrades!
Friday, February 18th
The Kingbees Begin CD #4
Well, it arrived. The MOTU HD896.
This little unit has high hopes resting on its flat-black little chassis. With this unit, we'll start work on Kingbees iV--the as-of-yet unnamed sequel to the just-out Kingbees CD Freaky Zydeco.
High Hopes, indeed.
In the past, The Kingbees of the Bayou have been all about zydeco fusion. Zydeco Nouveau, yes! You could find reggae (one-drop style) cheek to jowl with traditional zydeco pieces. In the old ways--and in the old albums--a song might start anywhere in Louisiana and end up anywhere on the planet. That's just the way we were, bringing our roots (the Pacific Northwest, the '60s, Baby Boomer pop sensibilities, thirsty WOMAD-inspired ears) and sensibilities into the music we loved.
Zydeco meets World-Beat with a vengeance.
But (in our minds) the new album will face towards Louisiana and explore the music that grew up in the backyards and in the front rooms of Creole and Cajun households--and was made for the sheer love of making music and hanging with the folks you were connected to. That's where we're headed, and paradoxically it's a piece of technology--the HD896--that we hope will take us there. More on this later.
Thursday, February 17th
King of Bavarian Zydeco: Part II
Among those who've had the experience, it's known as Accordion Boot Camp. Dave Lang has had a hand in getting most of the one-row players in the pacific northwest up to speed on that beautiful wooden box that is the Cajun diatonic accordion--one of the big loves in any zydecajun's life.
To Accordion Boot Camp you bring your one-row Cajun accordion, a tape recorder to catch the wise fingerings, tips, tricks, and stories--and a gritty determination to make true progress on an instrument that--for all its simplicity--turns out to be a Mount Everest of subtleties and near-impossible to master ins-and-outs. But--then--that's the way of folk music isn't it? No matter how many chops you've amassed in another idiom (jazz, classical) you'll still sound like Johnny (or Genie) Lame when you try to play your mandolin like Bill Monroe or--in this case--your accordion like Marc Savoy.
Guaranteed.
So--at Accordion Boot Camp be prepared to be humbled. And inspired. Dave is one of those teachers who can inspire you to put time and attention into the accordion matters that can help you get the sound you've been hearing and wanting to make your own. He introduces you to wrinkle after wrinkle, a never-ending succession of the Right Stuff (in accordion terms) to get you to your next level. After you've had the Accordion Boot Camp experience, you'll bless your personal stars that you brought along a recording device (in my case, a mini-disk recorder!) as a Wrinkle Collector. After my experience, I hooked the mini-disk up to my Mac laptop and spooled my lesson across to my I-Pod. Now, I listen to my Boot Camp Experience on walk's to work. Instant (and constant) inspiration.
So--that's the Accordion Boot Camp Experience, and as I've pointed out--Dave's a wonderful teacher on the one-row. But that's only DefCon Two on the Mentor-ship Scale in your correspondent's humble opinion. For a person to rate a rising-with-a-bullet on the mentorship scale, it's important that they not only excel in their teaching abilities but have that little something extra that kicks them off the mere mortal scale. Dave has that little something extra. Boy Howdy does he have it.
In The Bees we always say, "you don't have to be a rocket scientist to play this music--but it helps." This brings us to my next point. Not only does Dave deserve our admiration for his dedication to the one-row Cajun box and the music we all love and for his being the Father of Bavarian Zydeco, but Dave is also--quite truly--a rocket scientist. One of the current hats he wears (besides the cowboy chapeau he can be seen wearing when he takes the stage with How's Bayou) is as a proponent of the Space Elevator.
Space elevator?
Yes, some homo sapiens have been dreaming for years about ways to get us off the planet cheaply and efficiently (and in much greater numbers). I first heard about this idea in Arthur C. Clarke's science fiction novel, The Fountains of Paradise. This way-cool scheme is to run a cable from the surface of our beloved terra firma up into geosynchronous orbit. With such a cable in place, it would be possible to run folks up the dangling line into space without the need for booster rockets or any of the attendant baggage associated with leaving mother earth at the present time. Dave has been involved with this project for years now. And for me it's absolutely beyond exciting to hear the history of this project from someone who's been personally involved. Folks, we are living in the future. And part of that future is playing Cajun music.
So--there he is, Dave Lang, father of Bavarian zydeco, accordion mentor, and space elevator wrangler. What a strange and beautiful world we inhabit with such creatures inhabiting it. Eh Toi, friends!
Thursday, February 10th
Dave Lang--King (and Father) of Bavarian Zydeco, Space Elevator Wrangler, and Accordion Master Mentor--
PART ONE
Everyone (hopefully) has one--a mentor--that special someone who sets them tasks, seemingly impossible at first, inspires them to continue when the way turns to shadows and slippery surfaces, a someone who reaches deep into their store of knowledge and presents bright bits of data from their experience to guide the learner along.
My mentor is Dave Lang.
I first met Dave (and the other members of How's Bayou) when The Bees did a gig with them in Portland one summer. Both bands were parked in the Full Sail tent on a handful of hot days in late summer, playing Louisiana music and having a wonderful time sharing the Cajun and Creole music we love. We spent all day (and some of the nights) playing music in an old amusement park on the lip-edge of the Columbia river, smelling the curly fries, cotton candy, and barbecue that gave the Friday through Sunday event the ambience of a State Fair. But a State Fair it was not. No, this was Oktoberfest--Portland-style.
Zydeco? Cajun music? At Oktoberfest? Yes--you see--word has it that in Munich--at Oktoberfest--along with barrel-loads of beer and more oom-pah bands than would be legal in this country--zydeco has become a must-have staple of things Oktoberfest-ian. To a competent Bee-Thinker this seems logical. Anyone who's seen The Bees or How's Bayou do their Tabasco-inflected thing knows that a cool and frosty is very nice to quaff when the dancing begins.
So--that's how two bands that celebrate the music of Louisiana came to be sharing stages and time with each other at the Portland Oktoberfest. And that is how Dave Lang came to be the Father of Bavarian Zydeco.
One of the announcers was frankly puzzled by the music that was being played in the Full Sail tent. The oom-pah bands with their Germanic toot and bray certainly sounded like they belonged at an Oktoberfest event. But--accordions with a blazing make-you-wanna-dance vibe? Puzzled, the announcer tried to tie the bands into the event by mentioning that folks shoulda, oughta catch the Bavarian zydeco in the Full Sail tent.
Well--frankly--that was all we Bees needed to begin referring to Dave as the "father of Bavarian zydeco" from stage, as many times as we could during the many, many sets we played. At the finish of each set we were not slow in letting the assembled multitudes know that "coming up, folks. Only minutes away now. A special treat--the father of Bavarian zydeco. The originator. The True Vine from which all Bavarian zydeco comes . . ." I think you get the picture.
After a few days of this, the title just stuck. Now, Dave is the Father of Bavarian zydeco to us Bee folks. But here's more, so much more to Dave than that. I'll give you all the mentoring details tomorrow when I describe to you the glories and the challenges of Dave's Accordion Boot Camp.
Tune in then. Eh Toi!
Tuesday, February 8th
In Thrall of Mardi Gras and A Strange Announcement
Tuesday be Fat (and early this year). So--happy be your Mardi Gras, Bee Tribe.
The Bees buzzed outrageously on Saturday night in downtown Bellingham--with the biggest crowd we've ever had at the Wild Buffalo--and we've been playing for all of its going-on six-year history. Laissez bon temps roulet!
Thanks go out to . . .
About the Night: I'd forgotten what it sounds like to have Michael Bajuk and Blades on the same stage together. These two go way back as partners in crime in Silverdale (Washington)--playing in high-school era bands like Hunkpapa and other versions of this-ain't-ya-mother's music-- bands they put together to both delight and horrify friends and families. Michael and Blades have spent major amounts of stage time together.
So when they get together on drums and percussion, their back and forth is nearly telepathic, mirror neurons firing in perfect and glorious unity that bringing a thrill to your spine and a smile to your face.
Magnificent mojo. But don't tell them. It'll only go to their (already too big) heads.
Also--a strange announcement. As many of you know, the Buffalo gig was to be Bobby's last gig with The Bees after 4 (or so) years of bringing his mighty and thundering accordion to Kingbee gigs.
Not so.
The crazily intense professional life (working 7 days a week for weeks on end) that was taking Bobby away from The Bees has been hit by layoffs. Although Bobby survived all the cuts (Thanks be to Clifton!)--he's got considerably more time on his hands than previously.
Therefore--you heard it here first!--The Bees with Bobby are a reality for the foreseeable future. What to expect?
Brought to you by those Kingbees of the Bayou. Our next gig is headlining the Tulip Festival. We'll expect to see y'all there. Understand?
Gumbo ya-ya, my partners in spirit and flesh,
Mark
Saturday, February 5th
The Recovery, David Lindley: Day Two
Fiery music that was inspiring, touching, full of roots magic--and brilliantly whacked out. Hyper-melodic acoustic lap steel played with technique that is nothing short of scary and a tour-de-force segment of oud playing accomplished on an electric oud that was a solid-body, no more than two-inches deep. We traveled to David Lindley-ville last night and left satisfied and tickled, too.
A standing ovation for David Lindley. If you get a chance to see this master innovator in a town near you, take it.
Well, we're only a couple of hours away from The Bees at the Wild Buffalo House of Music. Our Mardi Gras gig for '05. This will be The Corrupter Bobby McCauley's last gig with the KingBees. Bobby has been the main-vein accordion-ist with The Bees for the last four or so years, so it's tough to say goodbye. But--with many young kids and a job that sometimes goes 7 days a week--we understand.
and--once a Bee, always a Bee. So we may see him again down the road.
Downbeat is at 9:00 tonight--so come join the pre-Mardi Gras festivities.
Friday, February 4th
David Lindley: Rootswork on the Lap Steel
A bunch of The Bees are going to see David Lindley at Bellingham's Nightlight tonight--a venue I haven't yet had a chance to check out--but I understand (from Michael Bajuk, drummer extraordinaire and former KingBee band member) that the sound system and amenities are first rate. Expect a full report.
David Lindley--for those recently crawled from beneath the green canopy of a cabbage leaf in faery--has a long history in American rootsmusic. Starting in the '60s as a player in the San Francisco psychedelic era band Kaleidoscope and side excursions with projects like The Devil's Anvil (a daft attempt to create pop music from Arabic roots), Lindley is probably best known to the public at large for his work as a sideman with Jackson Browne--his straight steel solo on "Running On Empty"--the Bop 'Til You Drop album with Ry Cooder, and his albums with backup band El-Rayo X. I personally saw him play steel with The Blind Boys of Alabama at the final U.S. WOMAD in Marymoor park. Stellar.
Dazzling career.
He's pioneered a sound and aesthetic that's inspired the mainstream (you hear chorus-rich guitar sounds on commercials for corporate entities like Taco Bell that are absolutely 100% Lindley-inspired) without Lindley being credited. He's the kind of player and thinker that should be given a MacArthur fellowship.
It's our luck (or anyone's) to see Lindley in a small, intimate venue like The Nightlight. Our bassplayer in The Bees (you remember Robbie: sings like a bird, plays hot, rumbling five-string zydeco bass?) plays steel. I'm turning him on to all the sacred steel albums I can get my hands on. My motive? I want to bring the pedal steel into The KingBees. I'm hoping that when Robbie sees Lindley working out on his Weissenborn lap steel guitar--he will be entranced--more than entranced, enslaved. I long to hear the words "Yes, Master!" fall from his lips when I ask him to bring his pedal steel to the next rehearsal. I'm hoping seeing Lindley will inspire him in that direction.
But--is it zydeco? Steel guitar in our Creole/Cajun KingBees of the Bayou-thing?
(In a stage whisper): maybe no one will notice. We'll either see you tonight at Lindley--or tomorrow night at The Wild Buffalo. We start at 9. Eh Toi!
Thursday, February 3rd
The SeasonIt's starting. The Season.
If this sounds like something out of a M. Night Shyamalan (director of The Sixth Sense, Psigns) film, fear not. I'm talking about the coming of Mardi Gras--only a few days away--on Tuesday, February 8th. The Mardi Gras season has begun.
Mardi Gras is happening early this year. We Bees are playing one of our favorite Bellingham hang-outs, the smoke-free Wild Buffalo House of Music which--as some of you will recall--The Bees opened up almost six-years ago, if memory serves. We're packing in the beads and torches (Brett and I do fire-eating!).
As a special guest, we'll have Michael Bajuk, drummer extraordinaire. Michael now teaching in the dance department at Western Washinton University is no stranger to Bee fans, being one of our original drummers. Having Michael sit in while John Marriot is exploring the surf breaks in Patagonia is a big treat for us on this gig.
At the Buffalo, besides celebrating Mardi Gras we'll also be pulling off a CD release party. Freaky Zydeco is the new CD, and we'll have plenty of copies for your listening (and buying) pleasure. If you've heard our two previous CDs, Crosspollination: Bees of the Invisible and Mystic Barbecue, we think you're going to love our latest.
We do.
So--although celebrating Mardi Gras is a new frontier for most Pacific northwesterners--we guarantee we'll be delivering monster dollops of Louisiana-style hot sauce--an experience you're sure to love.
My Promise: Meet the Bees at the Buffalo--and I'll read your palm for free! Eh Toi!
If you're stuck in Seattle--and can't make it in to see The Bees in Bellingham--then--drop whatever you're doing and go see Dexter Ardoin and the Creole Ramblers. If the Bees weren't gigging, this is where I'd be taking my body this weekend. Dexter Ardoin (yes, from the same family that brought us Amede!) hails from Louisiana and does the music right. He'll be playing at the Seattle Highway 99 Blues Club.
You can find details at Gator Boy Productions, Sean Donovan's site dedicated to things Creole and Cajun. Bookmark Sean's site--and catch his radio show on KBCS 91.3 FM from 11pm-1am on Tuesday nights. The Gator Boy rocks!
Listen as The KingBees smuggle their fresh mystic barbecue sounds and fiery hot sauce beats with profound roots attitude to a planet near you!