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2023 Year in Review

My journey this year has paralleled that of many musicians, in that I put forth my all in pursuit of an ideal that only exists in my mind. Not knowing what to expect has surrendered the foreground long ago. My focus and intent is on doing Louisiana’s music community justice. Being completely self-funded, Neworleansmusicians.com’s greatest challenge has been getting the word out without the benefit of an advertising budget. Just as venues often do, I rely on my members to promote their own appearances on the site, on the blog, on the podcast, and on the Youtube Channel. Word-of-mouth is more powerful than most people realize. And for someone like me, a simple mention means everything. But no matter the amount of exposure, I have always been gifted with the ability to look back on the catalog of work I have generated and be proud. To your friend or family member in a band, I know I am able to add value to their musical efforts. Bringing artists together and introducing opportunity has been the fire that fuels me.

In the back of my mind, I have always gone back and forth between the “I” and the “we”. I’ve never been one to pander to image. And I suppose one could say humility plays a role in this as well. But frequently, the impression one leaves with another can open a few doors down the road. Throughout 2023, I have found myself erasing the “we” in communications online and replacing it with “I”. I have found myself reminding… myself that I am doing these things. That I don’t have a staff. I have myself, a freelance programmer, and the occasional article contributed by those interested. Conversely, I do believe there is always a bit of “we” at play. By that, I mean the musicians, music businesses, and fans that decide to join, the people that read the articles, watch the videos, and listen to the podcasts, and all those who simply mention the site to another, make up this sector. Despite my hours on the phone, on the road to interviews, and behind this keyboard, those supporters may very well be the tipping point for this website’s success. And once again, like a musician, a little bit of blind faith comes into play. At any rate, in an effort to remain transparent as well as hold myself accountable, I have committed to publishing a “year in review” article every year. I do hope this also serves to demonstrate merit and possibly garner the interest (and membership) of more people.

In year two of being in business, I have onboarded forty-nine new members, bringing the total to one-hundred and four. New members included forty-one bands, a music label, two recording studios, an online music magazine, and four fans. Yes, a little-known feature on the site is that fans can register for free as well. Their benefits for joining include store discounts, the ability to list in the classifieds, and the ability to message bands. I published twenty-three podcast episodes, twenty-seven articles, and fifty-four videos. Instead of commercials in the middle of those podcast episodes, I pick a new member, talk about their band, and play the audience a snip of their work. The statistics I see tell me that thousands of people have been exposed to the artists in those features. Fun fact: some of the interview subjects requested the art I generated from their interview promotions. I gladly furnished them the designs and they were able to use it for their own projects. I also added to Neworleansmusicians.com’s playlists. I have professional accounts on sixteen platforms. Each contains eighteen playlists named by genre. And the number of tracks from my members that I added is literally too many to count. More often than not, I have added their whole catalog. I know that this has lead to more exposure for my members.

Aside from these advances, I also enjoyed a bit of publicity this year. I was a guest on the Getting to Know You podcast where I spoke about my life as a Captain and a president of a music network. I was also a guest on the Music of America podcast. This one was special to me because I was able to select three site members to talk about on that show. I was also able to play their music. And I know this brought them to a new and far-reaching audience. I was featured in an article in The American Press which described what Neworleansmusicians.com is doing for musicians in Louisiana. And I was also featured in CanvasRebel, an online entrepreneurial magazine. I look back on all these instances with dignity. But what stood out to me was that, in each feature, I described my mission in different ways. They all contained the same message. But all too often you see a mission statement from a company that reads the same across all fronts. Sometimes it makes me question the authenticity of those words. Regardless, my guest appearances, my articles, my videos, and my podcast have all contributed to the traffic that frequents Neworleansmusicians.com. This has been my way of bringing value to the site and its members.

The time I spent interviewing Vinnie Labella was probably the moment that I was closest to someone that had not only performed in front of hundreds of thousands of people, but had honestly revolutionized the world of thrash music. I’ll always say the interview I did with Vinnie was the worst recording of the best interview I’ve done to date. That was the day one of my lav mics decided to start shorting out. And audio editing for that podcast episode became a Macgyver act that even I am surprised I pulled off.  But I felt as though we really connected. And because of that, I was able to bring the most comprehensive look at his life to my audience and his fans. In all his years touring the seven continents and sitting before countless reporters, this had never been done before. Not to mention, it was revealed that Phil Anselmo (Pantera, Down, Superjoint Ritual, etc) was actually a member of Exhorder at one point. Which had not been known to anyone. I was the only person he agreed to talk to since his split from Exhorder three years preceding. And he was approached by many distinguished magazines to get that story. It was an important moment in music history.

I think the interview that held the most cultural importance was the one I did with Wayne Kahn. His altruistic intent for the historical audio and video he has come into possession of is reassuring. The contributions to the Smithsonian Folkways and his current plans to immortalize the chronicles of one of America’s founding families in zydeco music is commendable, to say the least. He was able to illustrate the importance of the Carrier family to my audience, regardless of their preference or unawareness of zydeco music. After publishing, I watched the statistics and social interactions on his interview closely. And I was able to connect him with a prominent music documentarian.

The interview that I believe held the most importance for the musical heritage of New Orleans would be the Chris Beary interview. Together, with Grammy Associate Director Reid Wick and a board of national and local influential members of the music community, the Louisiana Music and Heritage Experience will soon become the most important music heritage museum in the state. I was able to bring the news of this massive music museum to my audience. Also, I was able to line up one of my members, Pocket Chocolate, with Chris who then booked them for the Funky Uncle Live 8-Night Jam. They were able to share the stage with musicians like Grammy Award winner Leo Nocentelli, and both Leo and Russel Batiste.

Something else happened that I thought was really cool. Someone I interviewed in 2022 was featured in an article on Nola.com in 2023. The article contained a video segment of my interview with him. I always feature music from members in my video intros. They are often-times from a member other than the one I am interviewing. I include a full screen credit with album art for the musician whose music I use. So, as a result of that, the musician in the intro got a spot in a prominent website article just for being a member. I did observe traffic and watch-time increase on that video. So, I know his music gained exposure through that inclusion.

Looking ahead into 2024, I hope to continue to onboard musicians and music industry professionals throughout Louisiana to Neworleansmusicians.com as well as keep pace with my current rate of publications on the podcast, the Youtube Channel, and the blog. I cannot begin to explain how much I have enjoyed meeting and speaking with these people about their lives. I maintain contact with each and every one of them. Not only because of a vested interest on a personal level. But because the very crux of Neworleansmusicians.com is the network itself. It is what allows me the privilege of bringing opportunity to my members. For this coming year, I will also need to pay more attention to possible avenues of income for Neworleansmusicians.com while preserving my commitment to always keeping it free to use for everyone. One particular statistic I left out in this year-in-review is the amount of money I spent this year on Neworleansmusicians.com. It’s in the five digits. I’ve been so focused on promoting bands and generating media that I haven’t really given the importance of (at least) breaking even its due. I’ve never cared much for the act of putting a price on one’s passion. But I also never realized the digital age could deliver such hefty bills! Once again, like many musicians out there, 2023 has seen me wince at the price of pursuing one’s passion, as well as things like gasoline and Enfamil. I must admit this will not be an easy task for me. I do have a donation page, but that has been crickets. I understand what it’s like to live hand-to-mouth. So, I’ve not expected much on that front. If anyone knows of any effective grant writers or fund-raising entities that would be a fit, I’m all ears. But in the words of author and educator Marsha Sinetar, “Do what you love and the money will follow.”

PS – If anyone would like to help spread the word, I have postcards and stickers. Send me your address and I’ll get those out to you for free. Thanks!

Author: David Trahan

Neworleansmusicians.com

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Saxophonist Christopher Burton

Imagine what it took for your hero to become your hero. For me, “fortitude in the face of” comes to mind. After all, that is what we admire in a hero. It’s not so much about the obstacles themselves. We all have those in life. When speaking about a musician though, the term “hero” may seem like an overstatement. But I would argue the ability to convey the spirit of triumph poignantly through sound bears evidence of a hero. Overcoming debilitating medical adversities, paying forward a well-earned knowledge base, and pushing the envelope on behalf of the obscured are all also qualifying traits in my eyes. It is for these reasons, amongst others, that I admire him. Christopher Burton is the hero you never knew you had.

Born at Charity Hospital in September of ’87, he would not see two years of age before contracting spinal meningitis. The swelling would result in nerve damage in his ears, which would in turn leave him with hearing loss as well as a speech impediment and, at times, severe vertigo. The affliction would often leave him verbally misunderstood. And by consequence, he didn’t speak much. It would also begin him on a ten-year path of speech therapy. By the time he was seven his mother passed away. Luckily, he would have the benefit of a close family to raise him. His father was a bassist in a gospel band. And about the same time in his life is when Christopher recalls he and his sister first accompanying their father on a gig. The church music resonated with him and was quite possibly his initial experience with live music. Back then, he thought all churches must have had music like this. “The music grabs me… so interesting, so powerful, so moving. I love the music. The Baptist churches I went to, there was always a band playing. So, I thought that’s how church was supposed to be.” His father’s band, The Randolph Brothers, would travel to play in churches out of state and occasionally outside of church. He pointed out, “It was strictly churches. Even though they would also play at Jazz Fest at the time, they were always in the gospel tent.”

Christopher wouldn’t pick up an instrument of his own until he was fifteen. The debate club, the school newspaper, the gardening club, and the drama club absolutely filled his days at Frederick Douglas High School. But it occurred to him that he was from New Orleans and did not know any blues or jazz. I found it interesting that a child of his age would push beyond the veil of top forty music, being that it’s force-fed to most of us. But he recalls having an interest in local music and a sense of social responsibility to carry on that torch. So, he joined the high school band with saxophone as his instrument of choice. Alonzi Jackson was the band director at that time. And the program kept things interesting for the kids, playing songs like Luther Vandross’ “Never Too Much” and The Dazz Band’s “Let It Whip”. The curriculum required the use of mostly whole notes. So, it was easy enough for a beginner like Christopher to learn. Once again, music sparked a particular interest in him. He would enable himself to spend more time with it by dropping a few of the other electives. Here he excelled, quickly becoming section leader. But leadership came with its own challenges. Through the process of giving advice and other leadership duties, it became clear that some in his section were not of the same ilk as he. Discouragement would come to a hilt during Mardi Gras and, shortly following, he would quit the school band.

In May of 2005, he graduated from Frederick Douglas and set his sights beyond the city of New Orleans. He attended Hampden-Sidney, a nationally ranked private liberal arts college for men in Virginia. A rural area with under two thousand residents, this was quite the change in scenery. Christopher would once again take up saxophone here. But after just one year, because of the expense, he would return home to New Orleans. At this time, Christopher still did not own a saxophone. He always played what was available at school. So, it was serendipitous that he would run into saxophonist Stephen Galdney, a member of the Preservation Hall Foundation music collective. Stephen gave him his first saxophone. Stephen had recently been performing and touring in Paris. And his apparent success and this gesture inspired Christopher to try harder. He began combing through method books, practicing every chance he got. He enrolled at the University of New Orleans, eventually trying out for the band there. Christopher recalls, “I remember working on audition material sitting at Douglas Band Room, Mr. Ali was our band director at the time. He was a graduate from Southern University. He was the band director over there. I remember working on pieces. And I go to audition, and Dr. Taylor over there is like, alright. Because I auditioned on alto. And he was like, how about playing baritone sax?” Now this made more sense in the grand scheme of things. Christopher’s meningitis resulted in the inability of his right ear to hear most high frequencies. As a result, he tended to prefer lower notes on sax. Altissimo notes on an alto in C6 may still not be out of his range of hearing. But once it gets to D7, he won’t hear it. He has since grown to love the low range of the baritone and delights in its sub-harmonics and overtones.

The summer of 2014 is when Christopher finally though of himself as a good musician. The difference here, I found in his story, is that he broke free from theory and got to utilize his knowledge in real world settings. Not only that, but he was now delving into improvisation while getting feedback simultaneously. He would participate regularly in rehearsals with the Second Line Reggae Band. He would frequently perform at Melvin’s Bar on St. Claude Ave. as well. It was there that he got a true education in the blues from a house band made up of seasoned veterans. He recalls Irma Thomas’ bassist teaching him laid back lessons like, “Hey when you playin’ this Purple Rain, you don’t have to do a whole lot. It’s just the blues, man.” BJ’s pedigree and nonchalant demeanor spoke volumes where words did not. Christopher also explained how suddenly, his grandfather wouldn’t make him leave the room to practice. We both laughed at this one. And I can tell you from experience, when it comes to the old-timers, this is as close as you’re going to get to a compliment. Christopher also relayed to me an instance at his Auntie’s birthday party where his cousin was DJing. Christopher brought his saxophone along and played while his cousin spun records. The reaction from family was to ask that he play more. Albeit on the inside, these subtle earmarks in his life had Christopher elated. “It took time to get there. But it feels good”, he says.

Joining a band of his own came about mainly as a reactionary measure. UNO eliminated its Music Education program, which reduced the student count in their music department from about 300 to 80. The remaining 80 would stay on in Jazz Studies, which was comprised of composition, history, and performance. His band, Hidden Wind Saxophone Ensemble, would later become an offshoot of some of the remaining members. In an effort to keep performing in a similar setting, Christopher joined the New Orleans Concert Band, an organization founded in 1979 that practiced at UNO. The late Peter Dombourian, a band director in the New Orleans public school system for over thirty years, served as director for the New Orleans Concert Band for fifteen years. And they would practice once a week, performing several times a year at places like UNO, Audubon Park, and Lafrenière Park. Their co-conductor, Sherman Leggett, also conducted the American Legion Post 350 band in Metairie and asked if Christopher would be interested in joining. Christopher enjoyed these bands because, in a city that wants you to play by ear all day, it gave him more chances to read sheet music and stay fluent. Christopher’s roommate invited him to come play in an anime cover band he formed called Purikura Panic. Now this broke all molds when it came to convention being that anime features music from just about every genre and every era. I could see him light up as he exclaimed, “I love anime music for the wide breadth of its genre. Anime might be a genre. But in that genre, there’s opera, there’s rock, there’s blues, there’s gospel. There’s just so much music. There’s that 1970’s and 80’s stuff; that city pop stuff. Oh, I love playing some (Miki Matsubara’s) Stay With Me and that Yu Yu Hakusho , that “Smile Bomb” (Hohoemi no Bakudan). It’s some good music!” He went on further, “I was playing the song Miki Matsubara’s Stay With Me, love that song. In the middle of the song there’s a break. And it goes from being in F Major, it goes from F Major to F Minor. Like, just flips right there for that section and there’s a jazz solo; a saxophone solo playing in that middle section. And I’m like, listen to that! That’s straight up jazz right there!” If you listen to the song, this moment stems from a previous portion of the song that is all rock and roll. Most of this band’s performances are at anime conventions. Which, I might add, is a healthy niche to be performing within. Further on, and throughout this interview, we went a bit more in-depth concerning the traditional genres in New Orleans, Christophers thoughts and experiences busking in the city and so much more. Please consider clicking your favorite podcast platform below and subscribing to hear this and many more intimate moments with the musicians of Louisiana.

Author: David Trahan

Neworleansmusicians.com

Hidden Wind Saxophone Ensemble is on Facebook by name

Neworleansconcertband.com

American Legion Post 350 Band:

https://post350band.com/

Puirkura Panic Linktree:

https://linktr.ee/purikurapanic

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Justin Curry

Born in Madison, Ohio, Justin Curry basically kept to himself as a child. His father was a drummer based in Houston and wasn’t around much. But his mother and aunt were. And both could sing; his aunt even performing on stage. Though violin wasn’t the first instrument he picked up, it was the first one chose of his own volition. In high school, where there was no orchestral program, he played trombone and could manage basic piano and guitar. With a laugh, he recalls how the music teacher told him he would never have a career in music. To all my budding new instrumentalists out there, this story will show that you should never let another dissuade you from your dreams of becoming a musician! Having not yet found the instrument that resonated with him the most, Justin’s true talent was not yet apparent. For that teacher and all his classmates, this would not come to light until his solo violin recital in high school. I’ve always maintained that underestimation is the greatest gift anyone could ever give. And Justin took full advantage of this, surprising everyone at that recital. He received a standing ovation for that performance. He would again surprise everyone when he became student council president. He would also amaze them by graduating a year early. His pursuit of becoming a professional violinist was a fervent one. He took lessons from a private tutor and was a student of the classical music genre. He realized if he wanted to make it in music, he would have to leave his hometown. Throughout the nineties, Madison’s live music scene experienced a whitewashing of sorts. Such to where the town was overrun with generic dive bars when all was said and done. Although Ohio had music education programs available at the time, it was becoming apparent that one would be hard-pressed to make it as a local musician financially. So, while taking lessons on the violin, Justin planned his move for years, unbeknownst to anyone.

He would continue in this vein, honing his craft in private. But once he left high school, he began performing publicly in and around Cleveland. Though jobs were scarce, he did prefer to play in restaurants as opposed to bars. He found that in bars, the music was secondary to the focus of socializing and libation. Whereas in restaurants, a musician’s performance was more central to the atmosphere. At one particular restaurant, he enjoyed a residency as well as their high-end client base. He started to notice his presence bringing in more and more customers. But when he approached the owner about an increase in pay, he was unfortunately shunned. Influenced by his hometown’s whitewashing of bars as well as this disheartening experience, Justin was prompted to form his own perspective on the venue philosophy. And in his opinion, many bars and restaurants have been involved in a “race to the bottom”. Whereby the caliber of services and features are gradually reduced while the price point persistently rises. And I agree that the competitive essence of many businesses these days seems to result in a reduction in quality. With long-term vitality being sacrificed for the sake of short-term profits, returning patronage suffers. Conversely, I understand that quality over quantity is a characteristic of maturation. Where may the two converge comfortably though? Justin says that a society centered around pop culture is afraid to appreciate finer arts. And while venues following suit is a direct result, it should not be tolerated, much less rewarded. 

Ever since he was a child, Justin took a peculiar interest in Japanese culture. Their ways stood as a sharp contrast to what he found himself surrounded by in Ohio. He could appreciate how both art and discipline were revered there. In Japan, it wasn’t as common to find a musician with two to three jobs because their art was more appreciated and thus would provide sufficiently. Following his dreams, he travelled there and enjoyed a successful career as a musician. His first stint was for four and a half years. It was from that time, when he returned to the states, that he found himself in New Orleans. Many of his guiding principles still held true here, like avoiding bar performances and contending with pop culture and low pay. But a big part of him was drawn to the city’s rich cultural heritage and musically significant history. And certain lagniappes like busking could help to subsidize his venue-based income. This may come as a surprise to some. But the amount of foot traffic a tourist destination supplies occasionally makes performing on the street a more viable option. And for Justin, it has proven to be of greater profit than playing in most venues. He does have his own strategies when it comes to busking. “Be respectful of where you are. Clean up when you’re done. Be good to the people around you. Because doing this is just as much a people skill thing as it is a musical thing. But on top of that, be good at making music. Because if you’re not good, you’re going to make nothing. It’s one of those things, sink or swim.” He continued by pointing out that adding to your environment is paramount. And by this he meant that getting to know the surrounding shop owners and neighbors shows them that you care, that you are a part of the community. He’s busked in places like New Orleans, Los Angeles, and New York City. And according to Justin, busking in Los Angeles can bring in twice what he sees in New Orleans. But I would attribute that to an overall higher cost of living. He contributed the fact that disposable income levels are lower here and that, unfortunately, the “city of drinking” narrative is pushed more than the “city of the arts” perspective. He maintains that New Orleans will always hold a special place in his heart. And he considers its appeal as a second home a significant one. But for now, he’s looking once again to explore his geographic options in hopes of finding himself surrounded by a healthier social ethos; one with greater emphasis on art and culture.

Justin’s third album will be coming to streaming soon by the name of “Between Worlds”. It is a live album that was recorded during his recent performance at the Marigny Opera House in New Orleans. The best way to view a complete list of all his relevant links (there are many) is on his Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/justin.curry.777. I interviewed Justin in the foyer of The Saxon House at 536 Royal St. The location is steeped in the New Orleans cultural history for which Justin is so fond. It is a two hundred plus year old dwelling owned by New Orleanian Louis Dufilho Jr., who was America’s first licensed pharmacist. It was also owned and renovated by Lyle Saxon, a local resident and six-time author on New Orleans and Louisiana history. Whom, through multiple purchases and renovations, is credited with making the French Quarter “more art colony, less an underworld.” Justin assured me that while the abode is both warm and inviting, it is definitely haunted!

Author: David Trahan

Neworleansmusicians.com

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Steve Staples

As I sat down to write this, I was immediately taken back to an old track that you may be familiar with, Grandma’s Hands, by Bill Withers. It’s a sentimental tune that captures the essence of the matriarch as perceived by a young boy. Though Steve Staples of The Iceman Special will tell you he doesn’t quite remember that far back, he began with a story of how he used to sit on his grandmother’s knee while she played piano. Those hands would produce melodies at home and at church that ingrained music into his being. Of his singing, she would say he could carry a tune by the time he was two. Steve and his mother had moved from Oklahoma to his grandmother’s house in Oakdale, Louisiana immediately following his father’s calling to the 38th parallel to fight in the Korean War. But his first memorable encounter came in 1955 when his family bought a television. He still remembers how Waylon Jennings looked with his guitar and that slicked back hair. Not too long after that, his next-door neighbors would purchase two Fender Esquire guitars and two Fender Pro amps. They would sit on the porch and play. And a young, curious Steve was inexplicably drawn to the sound. How peculiar are the seemingly minute happenings in a child’s life that bear the most impact. Because sitting at the core of Steve Staples, these two moments coupled to ignite a passion that would never be extinguished.

It wouldn’t be until he turned thirteen that he would start playing his own guitar, an acoustic. The following summer, his grandmother bought him an electric guitar and he would put this one to use on stage. Steve fondly recalls, “Myself, Mike King, Ricky Hall, Brian Collins, and Johnny Baker just made up a band for that performance called The Gonks. And we played in our junior high school auditorium about four or five songs that were British invasion kind of songs. And the girls went crazy. I mean, they were all up and dancing in the isles. They went crazy! That was it…. I told Brian, I’m going to do this for the rest of my life!” Though The Gonks were somewhat of a fictitious band, being that they were only formed in name for that show, Steve’s mind was made up. Disbursement would soon affect two popular local bands, The Twilights and The Gaunga Dyns. And through a series of shufflings amongst those members and Steve’s friends, he would finally be in a real band. “There was a band called The Twilights. And there was a band that formed called The Gaunga Dyns, simultaneously. I wasn’t in either one of them. He went on further to say, “We didn’t like our bass player that much. And we liked the bass player in The Gaunga Dyns. And The Gaunga Dyns were going to break up because the two guitar players and singers were going off to college. That was going to be the end of that band. But they were good. So, we broke those two bands up and formed one band, what we called The Gaunga Dyns, not the Twilights. And we had Neil Lundgren and Beau Breamer were singing. And they could sing like the Everly Brothers. I mean they could really sing. They were both super talented. And that was the Gaunga Dyns for a while. And it got real popular really quick.” Neil would leave the band soon after to pursue his own musical interests. But The Gaunga Dyns would go on to record at Cosimo Recording Studio on Gov. Nichols Street, in the French Quarter. Steve laughed as he mentioned that they were on the national charts for about a week or so at number ninety-nine. They had a formula that fit the time, touching on some British invasion tunes, and covering rock and soul genres as well. Steve and Mike King would do the writing for the originals. But a slight change would spell trouble further down the line. Their bass player, Bobby Carter, would end up moving to Connecticut when his father pursued a job opportunity there. And the band would turn to Steve to play bass and sing. He did oblige, but with hesitation. Because he knew this to be a daunting task. When the band called a song on stage that he didn’t feel well-rehearsed enough to play, he walked off. The Gaunga Dyns would kick him out the next day.

At home things were touch-and-go. Steve loved his father but viewed him as silently seething most times. He knew early on in life that his father wanted him to be a lawyer because his father told him so. But this path wasn’t in Steve’s sight. And as time went on, the rift would grow between them much like the separation between his father’s ideals and Steve’s intentions. But there were the occasional touches of sanguinity from time to time. At sixteen, without any warning, his father presented him with a really nice guitar. Which was bizarre considering he had never come to see his son play; not even once. One can only imagine the opinion a rugged war veteran might have had of “musician” as a career path. Ironically, his father had originally wanted to be a painter. Looking back, Steve acknowledges the existence of a softer side. But being a soldier instilled a toughness that made revealing this both obviously difficult and sporadic. The fracture in their relationship may have begun while he was still in school. His father had hopes of Steve joining the R.O.T.C. But Steve would instead choose to go off to college. Later in life, when Steve was quitting his job and turning to the road in pursuit of his desires, his father’s disapproval was more than apparent. He told Steve outright that he was throwing his life away. But again, intermittent gleams of positivity would shine through at times. On the day following this argument, for instance, his father called and said, “You’re right. Go do it.” Though his father’s hopes for him never quite seemed to align with his own, and the support wasn’t always apparent, his father would evidently have a change of heart from time to time. There was another instance where things were already not going as planned for Steve, who was on a path that surely wasn’t set out for him by his father. But he surprised Steve, giving him a van to help him along. The messages always seemed mixed. And it would take years until the relationship with his father would be resolved. Today Steve concedes that the instability between them was answered with his own alcohol and drug abuse.

After the fall out with the Gaunga Dyns, Steve would move with his family back to Oakdale in time for his Senior year of high school. He played guitar in the orchestra there. And get this… he played the string bass too! Life would find him amongst friends and musicians at Louisiana State University that following year. He sold that electric guitar his father bought him, a decision he regrets to this day. But the singer/ songwriter era was in full swing and he used the money to buy an acoustic guitar. Artists like Paul Simon, Van Morrison, and James Taylor owned the day in the late sixties. And Steve was anxious to make his contribution to the art. He would spend his idle time playing and singing with guys on the common ground. One day, he saw a post on a bulletin board in search of a songwriting partner. Through this he would meet and begin working with Quentin Powers, who would go onto work with such greats as Reba McEntire, Ronnie Milsap, and a host of other now famous musicians. The two worked on their own material, hiring friends and other musicians to make a demo at a studio in Baton Rouge. They shopped it around and were basically told it wasn’t good enough. But the second time around they landed a deal with Ardent Studios. With this they would have the opportunity to work with Ron Capone, a drummer whose catalog included work on the Shaft soundtrack with Isaac Hayes. They would also get to work with Steve Cropper, a guitarist, A & R man, engineer, producer, and songwriting partner of Otis Redding, Eddie Floyd and a dozen others and founding member of both Booker T. and the MG’s and The Mar-Keys. Ron was especially enthusiastic about Steve and Quentin’s work. He urged them to move up to Memphis, where Ardent was located, which they did. Things were going well at first. At the time there were a lot of rock and roll clubs. And a lot of hotels and motels had clubs in them. They would hire a band for a week, providing room and board along with pay. Together with their band, Steve and Quentin were able to work consistently while recording their album. But life eventually offset this stasis, sending the members in different directions. And the album they recorded at Ardent never came out. Their bass player would eventually leave town with his girlfriend. His replacement would subsequently leave to become a brain surgeon. Quentin would remain, as did Steve who had by now developed an intravenous methamphetamine habit.

His habit would follow him back to Oakdale, where he would take a job at his father’s car dealership. He once again found someone to play music with and would stick with this guy for a few years until 1980. But he was pulled over and arrested one night, landing him in jail. His lawyer advised seeking treatment. And so began Steve’s life-long path of sobriety. Steve’s complete ethos would align with this new way of life. He became a full-time rehabilitation counselor for twelve years, eventually running programs at different facilities in Louisiana. All the while he found ways to integrate music into his life with other musicians in recovery. In my eyes, his life has read like a success story from this point on. He built a mobile recording studio and travelled the country. He attended Loyola University, where he was in class with Stanton Moore. A band he played in, Merit and the Bloodhounds, won a competition at the New Orleans House of Blues and was flown to Hollywood to perform. He opened a shop, International Vintage Guitars, which operated in New Orleans for twenty years, later moving it to his hometown of Oakdale, Louisiana. It is still in operation to this day. And now he’s playing in a sensational band by the name of The Iceman Special. They’ve been playing numerous dates across the country. I attended one of their performances at Toulouse Theater in New Orleans, and I was truly blown away. Their talent, their stage presence, and their bevy of smoke and laser lighting seized the attention of all, enveloping the audience in an experience I for one will never forget. For the genius that Charley Murray, Will Murray, Steve Staples and Hunter Romero form, and for the wonderful man Steve himself has become, I can’t recommend enough seeing them play. Their new album Zycordia dropped this year. I hope everyone gets a chance to listen.

Author: David Trahan

Neworleansmusicians.com

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Music of America

Music of America is a podcast whose primary focus is on the undiscovered musicians of America. Tom Pollard, the show’s host, spent 10 years as a broadcaster in Missouri, Kansas and Colorado.  His first stint was hosting a late night talk show and Sunday morning guest show.  He has interviewed musicians all across the country and has been playing guitar since the age of fifteen. On his quest, he’s sought out musicians and supporting professionals in the industry, choosing five from each state for this show. The chosen are interviewed and given a chance to talk about their work. The resulting show gives the listener a glimpse into the artists’ lives and careers, with their music interspersed throughout the show. I was fortunate enough to be a guest on this show where Tom  and I discussed the work I’ve been doing with a website I created, Neworleansmusicians.com. Along with the mechanics of the site and what it does to promote Louisiana musicians, I was able to talk about three of our members. I was also able to submit tracks from them which were played in between talking points. I was elated at the opportunity to be a guest! This not only gave my site and its members more traffic and exposure. But it also allowed me to highlight these artists in particular, as well as talk about the personal experiences I’ve had with them while covering the Louisiana music scene.  I was able to give the backstories of The Ben Redwine Trio, Patrick Cooper, and MJ Dardar and play their music. Whether it be through my blog, my website, my podcast, my Youtube Channel, or future guest spots, I will continue to pass on all opportunities for exposure to my members. I hope you enjoy the interview!

Author: David Trahan

Neworleansmusicians.com

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Oktober Sky

While his style will always be uniquely his own, his dream has been no different than many of you audio players out there; gaining traction with the masses. Though, for him, this aspiration came with the exception of one caveat, that he arrive with a certain musical sympathy. Off the rails early on, Tylar Cash (a.k.a. Oktober Sky) lived a life that wasn’t contained by the traditional barriers that prop the rest of us up as children. The yard and the white picket fence passing him by, he was corralled with foster care and group homes. After moving from his birthplace of Modesto, California to Dexter, Missouri, his sense of longing was replaced with the quest of belonging. But by now the parameters had changed. At twelve years of age, he stood in that middle ground between childhood and adolescence, observing all the while the goings-on around him. He internalized his questions and emotions, revealing them only to a notebook in which he would constantly write. One might liken this to passive-aggressive expression. Outside of its cover, he tried to remain well-mannered and stay out of trouble. But within it, he could scream. He could poetically verse the things no one wanted to hear. And when he read them back, he understood it all. Rap music was prevalent at the time. Creative writing would teach him cadence and allow him to build and destroy worlds and the barriers within them. But by thirteen, he would be in a group home. And with less privacy and more proscriptions, that notebook would be taken away. Strong will, an inquisitive nature, and a desire to escape reality led him to disappear into books as a result. This opened his eyes to fantasy. Not so much for the sake of escapism, but as a means of artistic expression. Visualizations became similes and situations were captured as metaphors.

With the atmospheres constantly changing around him, he was exposed to many different forms of music. He could see the beauty in them all. Classic rock and heavy metal possessed as much worthiness with him as rap and electronic dance music. Each with their own styles of grammar and expression. When he was able to free himself from the grips of the group home, he bought some equipment and began learning how to record himself. Still searching for his own voice, he rapped about the things around him. But these things sounded out like so many of the typical rap songs of today, guns, drugs, women, cars and fast cash. One self-imposed bar he set for himself was to deliberately stray away from convention. Sounding like someone else was something he couldn’t live with. So, to measure up to this, he would constantly explore. A change in his cadence, a twist on the subject matter, singing… singing! He would land on an alternation between rapping verses and singing the choruses. And he was already veering toward a multi-genre approach of rap, pop, rock, and emo. The “musical sympathy” I spoke of earlier was born out of his personal experiences. There were a lot of somber feelings associated with his childhood. And of the many people he met along the way, some in his own predicament, he felt it necessary to touch on their lackluster reality. But never-before leaving it with a bit of a shine. Put simply, he understood and respected the trials of others because he lived them. But he believed it a good cause to insert a bit of optimism into his written realism, even if that sometimes meant a touch of fantasy.

Anxious to evolve, one day he Googled “what cities do people advance in music?” New Orleans, believe it or not, was number three out of ten. So, he packed all his things and moved to New Orleans. He has brought with him a message of mental health. And he views his multi-faceted style as an advantage. He hopes that it will speak to his audience as it does to him, ever-changing but always positive. The move has delivered him from the ill-willed surroundings of Missouri and the subject matters that came from there in his music. He has aligned himself with producer Rahul Borkar and video director Opius Mercury to release a collection of singles, each with their own music video. For the first time he feels like he’s in an environment that suits him. With this newfound liberty, he has felt free enough to do things like insert rock songs into a rap show. This allows him to try out his varying styles. He says he is not aware of any markets more conducive to this variance encapsulated into one presentation. I think we can all cite this as sometimes problematic territory. Cross-over styles can make some feel hesitant to go along with those who create it. Many people, especially younger crowds, often feel an allegiance of some sort to one genre or another. It is a utility by which they define themselves, and so must pass muster through a distinct set of principles and mores. Nevertheless, the music he makes now has predominantly more rock overtones. And he still does retain rap elements such as flows, tempo, and some looping melodies. He explains how when he’s writing, he’s in a depressive mode. But once he has written down his emotions, he feels at peace with it. Oddly enough, it is difficult for him to express himself verbally, but putting words into a song comes more natural without losing the thoughts and emotions he is trying to convey. I believe this to be a common sentiment among musicians. These days, he feels the challenges of being a solo artist. He wants the camaraderie and capability of a full band. It’s funny how a music scene such as ours can both congeal and isolate at the same time. But this too, I believe, is common territory. We did talk in-depth about his childhood and the places he has been in life, as well as his goals and methods to which his music videos and lyrics aim. You can hear our interview with Tylar Cash (a.k.a. Oktober Sky) on our podcast by clicking your favorite platform below. And please, help propel this artist’s journey forward by stopping by one of the destinations in the Linktree and giving him a like or follow. Once you see what he’s managed to do thus far with his music and videos, you won’t be disappointed. If you’re a musician looking to explore soundscapes within the realms of rap/ rock, pop, or emo-rock, you should consider reaching out to him as well. Forming connections or passing a kind word can go far these days.

Author: David Trahan

Neworleansmusicians.com

Oktober Sky’s Linktree: https://linktr.ee/oktobersky999?utm_source=linktree_profile_share&ltsid=31990f69-2da3-4084-8c7d-1986e0917074

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Zydeco by Birth

Though this culminates in the genesis of the documentary titled Zydeco by Birth, our story takes place believe it or not, up in Washington D.C. where a local radio DJ began taping live performances in the early 90’s. He was such a fan of the rhythm and blues artists that frequented the circuit that he too became a staple in the area. His radio show, The D.C. Roots of Music, gave him a platform from which to explore publicly the town’s music and the correlations between it and the world of music at-large. And both the tapings and his radio presence became a soapbox of sorts for the validation and preservation of his passion. Big Joe and the Dynaflows, Steve Jacobs, Jeff Sarley, and Kevin Mcendree were some of the coals fueling the hotbed of D.C. at the time. And it irritated Wayne to see patrons give the cold shoulder to a measly three-dollar cover charge to see these bands play. Not only that, but D.C. not being recognized as a music scene of any real importance really got under his skin. Wayne always saw D.C. as the great unrecognized. It was known to musicians in certain circles as a place of musical significance. But if you asked someone to name the major locations for music in the United States, D.C. would never come up. As Wayne points out, “If you said, ok, what does Ellington mean to jazz? He’s not jazz. He’s this big wave that comes across the culture of music. What does Charlie Byrd mean to the introduction of Latin jazz to the country and the world? What does Marvin Gaye mean to male singers? What do Patsy (Cline), Emmie Lou, Mary Chapin, and Ruth Brown mean to female singers? What does Link Wray mean to a whole wedge of rock and roll guitar? What is bluegrass without D.C.? It doesn’t exist the same way. D.C. is known for go-go. New Orleans is big on go-go. But I sit and hear Nile Rogers and George Clinton say go-go is a jumping-off point for hip hop and rap. So, there’s a whole other wedge and thing. But D.C. is not known as a music town. And that’s part of the soapbox. That’s the soapbox.”

To capture players in the small rooms that filled him with joy felt as a preservation effort to Wayne. And to deliver its contents to those outside of the area, he thought, might raise awareness for the scene and lend it some validity. And so it began, meagerly at first, with a small Boss six-channel mixer and a promise to the musicians that the tape would not travel. Rather, it would serve as work tape for them. Eventually Wayne began hearing things he thought others should get a chance to hear, and he worked it out with the musicians to put together a CD of live performances. He started a record label, Right on Rhythm, and The Blues You’d Hate to Lose, Vol. 1 would be his first CD. Through a chance meeting at a party in New Orleans, Wayne met a zydeco musician by the name of Roy Carrier. The two recognized each other from previous zydeco shows in D.C. One of the people he was able to give that CD to at the party was Roy Carrier. Wayne passed it off to him as a who’s-who of current D.C. players, saying that it might help him next time he was up there performing. Roy, in turn, asked if Wayne could show him around and make introductions next time he was there. The two would stay in touch and Wayne would come to put out five CDs, many of which contained Roy’s performances in D.C. 

Prior to this encounter, Roy discovered his music had been published and was for sale on retail shelves while visiting England. Now, it is true that he was at one time on a label by the name of Lenore Records. But he had a falling out with the label head, Lee Laverne, upon learning of the unauthorized use and sale of his work. The friendship, and subsequent alliance, he would form with Wayne would ultimately lead both Wayne and Roy down a path to discover how Roy’s music made it all the way to England without his knowledge. As it turned out, when Lee Laverne passed away, the contents of his estate would come to include Roy’s work. They would also include licensing agreements for Roy’s work made by the late Mr. Laverne. Illegitimately so, because Roy never signed over rights to his work; more specifically, the songwriting copyrights. When the studio was purchased, Roy’s work was simply assumed as a rightful possession by way of sale. And though neither Lee Laverne nor his estate owned the proper licensing, the physical tapes were in house and the fraudulent licensing agreement on record. Had Wayne not began recording Roy, the circumstances would have remained obscured and unjust. But since Wayne and Roy had formed ties, Wayne would uncover the details, successfully pursuing rights for Roy legally. And Wayne’s label, Right On Rhythm, would become the publisher for all of Roy’s material. “What it turns out is Lee Laverne assumed most of Roy’s copyright without the signature. Only the first seven songs had something resembling a signature, but it wasn’t really. But there’s dozens of songs after that, that Lee assumed publishing on. And that you cannot do. So, they (the publisher in England) were without legs to stand on. But what had happened is Lee Laverne had licensed these songs to Peter something-or-other in England for his record label (Zane Records). And he put those CDs out. So, Peter though has worked the CD. He’s the one that connects (licenses) a song on there, “My Baby Wants to Leave Me”, to Uncle Ben’s rice for a commercial.” Right On Rhythm would later be acquired by The Smithsonian Folkways Recordings, a division of the Smithsonian Institute. And Roy’s work would forever be cemented in the annals of cultural audio history. 

And rightfully so, because Roy was the last connection within a select few families of historical zydeco importance; Broussard, Dopsie, Chenier, Ardoin, and Carrier. Within the generations of these families were the original performers of the genre; Roy being one of them. Born out of creole and blues influences, Zydeco encapsulated not only a style of music, but a way of life. It has always been the music of families that worked the land and struggled through poverty. It marked occasions when families would come together, telling stories of their experiences in southwest Louisiana. And the Carrier family’s history of involvement around that music spans its entirety. In the late 90’s, Roy eldest son, Chubby, was befriended by a man named James Anderson that took interest in the family’s history in zydeco music. Aided by a camera crew, James followed the family throughout southwest Louisiana and to other locations gathering footage with the intention of making a documentary. Being Roy’s publisher, Wayne was incorporated into this process. But over time the project lost all furtherance and was shelved. Nearly twelve years later, when Roy passed away in 2010, Wayne contacted James to inform him of Roy’s death. James was still in possession of the gathered footage and would ultimately send it, in its entirety, to Wayne. Wayne believed in the project and was well aware of its importance. But he had no idea what to do with its contents. When his label, Right On Rhythm, was acquired by Smithsonian Folkways Recordings Wayne turned the boxes of tapes he had received from James over to them. He felt as though they would be safe there, and that possibly they could do something more with them. Years went by, and as they were previously in James’ possession, the tapes never developed into anything more than a box on a shelf. In 2021 Wayne reached out to the Smithsonian Folkways, convincing them to return the material. These boxes of VHS and Beta tapes were a veritable goldmine. They didn’t just contain performances. They encompassed moments in time from twenty years ago of a keystone in the world of zydeco. There were interviews with a semblance of characters that beckoned viewers to peer into the social graces and presence of a culture on this earth. Some of these folks are no longer with us. Like a 92-year-old Bebe, seen in his nephew Calvin’s living room with others playing Blue Runner; a classic linchpin between Cajun and Creole heritage. And others had gone on to achieve great status. Like Chubby Carrier, who won a Grammy for “Best Zydeco or Cajun Music Album” with his album Zydeco Junkie in 2011. And in fact, Roy himself garnered a posthumous induction into the Zydeco Hall of Fame. And Goldman, Roy’s cousin, was inducted into the Order of Living Legends, a special recognition by way of the Acadian Museum. The relevance of these tapes to the artform as a whole had only increased over time, tying the present to the past. 

Most things aren’t truly appreciated at face value. They can’t be. Vast spans of time and territory are sometimes reduced to symbolic imagery and a “that’s what they say”. But what any good documentary will prove is that there’s more to the story. It will illustrate the significance of its subject matter. And it will explode and examine all the moving parts that represent something that might have otherwise come to rest in a box on a shelf. Zydeco by Birth has become the name of one such box and will hopefully become a documentary that amplifies a microcosm rich in cultural heritage. Through a closer look at the social fabric of southwest Louisiana, viewers will know what others have not known and see what others have not seen. With this expounded perspective, they will come to appreciate the true meaning behind the Carrier name. Unable to lay it to rest, Wayne Kahn is on a quest to make the Zydeco by Birth documentary a reality. To hear all of this in greater detail and in his own words, you can listen to our interview using the podcast icons below. And if this is something you believe in, you can follow the links provided to help him in his journey. Any tips or advice, relevant contacts, or even a few dollars to his crowdfunding efforts are a few of the many ways you can contribute. 

Author: David Trahan

Neworleansmusicians.com

Gofundme link

https://www.gofundme.com/f/zydeco-by-birth-documentary

Zydeco by Birth Trailer

WOWD-LP Takoma Park Community Radio 94.3FM

https://www.facebook.com/people/Zydeco-By-Birth-The-story-of-the-CarriereCarrier-Family-of-SW-Louisiana/100085931411721/

https://takomaradio.org/

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Spending Ad Dollars

I ran across a recent thread in Reddit that I found to be enlightening. It’s one man’s account of his experience spending ad dollars, and the results he found over time. I think you will find the outcomes surprising. While many of us may not have the amounts of money to spend that he put forth, I’d urge you to pay attention to the proportions in order to put things into perspective. At the end of the piece will be a Youtube link where he explains his findings further. I hope this helps some of our musicians in their quest to boost streams.

Bjornar Kibsgaard dropped an album in June. In his own words, here’s what he has gathered so far:

YouTube Ads to boost my music videos: Spent $500 on one music video, and $750 on a second in google ads. Got over 20,000 views on both videos but engagement was quite low. On both ads, I ended up gaining a total of 103 new subscribers. Each video only had like 100 likes and less than 20 comments which was very confusing. I expected engagement to be a lot better for the amount spent. Trying to now figure out how to boost that the next time around.

Spotify pay for play listing: I paid 3 separate people to playlist me. One cost $46, one cost $90, and one cost $100. The guy who cost $46 got me like 15 streams literally. The guy who cost $90 got me on like 8 playlists but all were quite weak. I ended up getting only about 1,200 streams. The third guy for $100 was insane. Got me on huge legit playlists and somehow triggered Spotify to get me on more. I ended up on 58 different playlists and went from 100 monthly listeners to 15,000 and growing every single day. Super effective.

Instagram boosting reels that link to Spotify or my YouTube channel: Terrible method that i tried twice with $100 each. Reels got lots of views but super low engagement and barely any clicks. Not sure what I did wrong there or if this was just not an effective method.

Final thing I’ve tried is Spotify Ads directly. It is currently running and I spent $350 over 2 weeks. I’m not 100% sure what the results are just yet but I will leave an update here soon.

Wanted to know what your methods are and what is most effective for your music? This is my first time ever budgeting for ads and I wish I had done it sooner so I could have learned more earlier in my music career. I am trying to explore every avenue so I can eventually teach people what is most effective. You can see a video he made about it by following this link: https://youtu.be/0YXpBahRea4

Author: David Trahan

Neworleansmusisicians.com

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Charlie Gabriel’s Album “89”

On a hot and humid New Orleans afternoon, we reminisce of seasons past; musical gatherings and triumphs of old seeping into the wonder and fantasy of young adventure and philosophical starscapes. A treasured plethora of moments recalled through sight, sound, and mind, perhaps delving into that of an older era known to many only through media nostalgia. A summer serenade among the dew drops in. And a perfect twilight ventures into the French Quarter; love and light guiding the way through stoic backdrops of jazz legacy. Preservation and rich tradition bellows from all corners of the Crescent City. With these roots forging into the new, Charlie Gabriel’s solo album, 89, is a trip back in tribute, but also a look forward into the noir and divine majesty of one of music’s most cherished legends in the genre. To further encapsulate the auditory experience that is 89, let us first look back into the mythos and iconic story of Mr. Gabriel.

Clarinetist, saxophonist, and flutist Charlie Gabriel is a fourth-generation jazz musician from New Orleans. Raised in a classically trained musical family that emigrated from Santo Domingo in the 1850’s, Gabriel began playing clarinet professionally with the Eureka Brass Band when he was eleven years old. During World War II his father, clarinetist and drummer Martin Manuel “Manny” Gabriel often sent his son on gigs. Charlie himself became a prominent member of the Preservation Hall Jazz Band in 2009. I would be remiss in my journalism if I did not mention that Mr. Gabriel is a very accomplished chess player and has a wonderful video with the Preservation Hall band leader Ben Jaffe. The two have a wonderful interview and casual conversation over a chess match, which is available on the Preservation Hall YouTube page.

The opening track, “Memories of You”, paints the rainy southern landscape of beauty in solitude. Guitar harmonies and saxophone jazz serenades sparkle this uplifting noir opus that is the album 89, capturing a mixture of crisp guitar jazz theoretics and perfect brass rings compels the mind and soul throughout the album.

Following this is “Chelsea Bridge”, a 1941 compositional Jazz standard classic by Billy Strayhorn. This rendition is celebratory of its creation and displays the range and vibrato of Mr. Gabriel’s voice.

The album’s single is accompanied by a music video. “I’m Confessin’” showcases a sharp-dressed Mr. Gabriel being chauffeured around New Orleans. It also depicts behind the scenes of the writing and recording of 89, and beautiful glimpses of chess games, and bandmates laughing and hanging out. It’s a wonderful glimpse into the creative life of one of music’s most treasured geniuses.

Following the slow, heavenly tones of “I’m Confessin’” is the soothing noir love letter sounds of “The Darker It Gets”, an original song written by Charlie. The tune opens with beautifully strummed jazz chords by the record’s guitarist Joshua Starkman, with Ben Jaffe adding some walking swing dynamics on the upright bass. Charlie Gabriel’s smooth and soothing vocals warm up the mix. As I sit and listen, I am transported mentally to another time; rainy gas lantern-lit streets of New Orleans’ historic district and music clubs with black tie dress codes. A tenor sax solo brings out the sun in our adventure through a wonderful world created by Mr. Gabriel. Heard in the lyrics Charlie sings, “the darker it gets the better I see, the hidden place that’s inside of me.”

The next song on the album is “Stardust”. The 1947 Hoagy Carmichael classic brings the feel and love of the original version while adding a bit of flavor that can only come from New Orleans. Charlie has stated that of the Jazz songs he picked for this album, he never plays them the same way twice. A seasoned player in the game, he exudes musical creativity in a natural and inspiring way.

“Three Little Words” is a shift in sound as we get vibes of flamenco Jazz, cuban beats, tiki lounge, and a beautiful brass solo that will get every fan of music to the dance floor. The song was written by Harry Ruby and Bert Kalmar, and published in 1930. The song would go on to receive fame when it was recorded by Duke Ellington on August 26th, 1930. The musicianship and arrangement on this cover puts further emphasis on how versatile and deep the love of the genre’s history remains. The production on 89 is bright and vibrant while also feeling intimate, and gives the listener a front row ticket to the show.

At 91, Charlie Gabriel is still touring, and playing at Preservation Hall. I had the opportunity to see his performance in Jackson Square for French Quarter Fest in 2023. And without a doubt, he is on top of his game. An in-depth, unique audio experience, 89 is a glimpse into the mind and joy of an artist like no other. Should you choose to listen, 89 will illustrate a stand-out moment in time, as well as cement Charlie as a staple in Jazz. Pick up the chess match and listen to 89 for an amazing adventure.

Author: Ryan McKern

Neworleansmusicians.com

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Mark Samuels

Mark Samuels, founder of Basin Street Records, grew up in a household where music didn’t have a noticeable presence. And though he did play a bit of clarinet and piano in grade school, it never really captivated him. Attending Ben Franklin High School marked a time and place in his life when his musical tastes expanded. He had picked up the saxophone by then. He recalls fondly the benefit of having both Winton and Delfeayo Marsalis as a band mates, and his realization of the world of jazz. Simultaneously, his overall interests in music would transcend from The Police, Spyrogira, and The Kinks to local bands like The Cold, The Neville Brothers, James Rivers, and Astral Project. The gap between himself and the world of music began to close as he attended more and more shows locally, making friends who were musicians along the way. Though he would go onto college at the University of Texas, these were experiences that stuck with him. In college, he formed a band called The Urinals where he played saxophone and synthesizer. They would get up on stage and play in between other bands’ sets for fun. Earning a Masters in Finance, Mark would find himself off to New York to start a job in the consulting division of Arthur Anderson, implementing computer analytics for clients. The job meant he would travel elsewhere as well. At some point he was out in Atlanta, Georgia on a job for the Georgia Department of Labor, staying in the same hotel as the cast of the musical comedy School Days. You may recall our own Branford Marsalis played Jordan in that movie. Mark knew Branford from Ben Franklin High School and was friends with his brother Delfeayo. So, for the three weeks he was in Atlanta, he would get off of work and go sit on the set of School Days, spending time with Branford.

The Marsalis family had always been a big influence in Mark’s life. Watching them excel in school band was inspiring. He would spend time at their house as a kid, meeting Jason Marsalis when he was just three years old. Later on in New York, following their careers was akin to following the successes of your favorite local football player that made it to the NFL. He felt personally vested in some of the greats and shared in their triumphs. Winton, Branford, Terrance Blanchard, Donald Harrison and Harry Connick Jr. all hit the stages of New York at one time or another. And Mark would make it a point to go see their shows when they were in town. This would reinforce his tastes in jazz. Collecting their music led him to acquiring others like Miles Davis, John Coltrane and Art Blakey. It was Winton who would introduce Mark to a young Jeremy Davenport after Mark’s business trip to Atlanta. Jeremy, a junior in high school at the time, would later go on to study at the University of New Orleans with Ellis Marsalis and years later end up on the Basin Street Records roster.  There were many personal connections over the years that helped form Basin Street Records. At the time, not even Mark realized how all of this would come into play. Because at this point in his life, he was tweaking code and analyzing portfolios of mortgage-backed securities. His life was in New York. And he had just met his future wife, whom he would marry just one year later. But his career was about to affect a major change in his life. He was about to get assigned through work to one of three stock exchanges. All of which were out of the country and would require he and his wife to move abroad. As fate would have it though, a change was going to come alright. But it would include neither of those places nor a move away from the U.S.

Amidst all of this, his father called with some intriguing news. His company had invented a chemical that would be used to treat and refine natural gas. There hadn’t really been a market for it prior to this. But with the rise of natural gas prices, selling now became economically viable. His father’s company expected a rapid expansion and needed someone with Mark’s expertise on their team. And just like that Mark’s compass was now pointed south. In 1989, he and his wife moved back to New Orleans to be in business with his father. The future would see the birth of three children, the freedom to dictate his own schedule, and a prosperous, yet complicated business endeavor. His father’s business came with two partners who were also a father and son team. Over time it became clear that their idea of what the business should become was different from Mark and his father’s idea. The disagreement would form a rift that became a difficult process of separation. Looking back, he draws the assimilation between business arrangements and band arrangements. “When you go into business, if you don’t need a business partner, don’t have a business partner. And if you do have a business partner, and this goes for today with bands and everything else. If you need a business partner, and you might need a business partner when you’re putting together a band. You need an arrangement for how you’re going to separate things when you’re done. In my father and I’s case, we spent a lot of money on lawyers. And it was painful.” The experience struck a chord within Mark. It made him realize that whatever the future held for him, he wanted it to be fun. The process of departing from this deadlock would be through the sale of the business itself, which would span throughout 1996 and 1997. During that time, a meaningful opportunity would arise by mere happenstance.

It would designate a point in Mark’s life at which he began to pursue a career in music business. Though Mark did not realize this until he had already begun down its path. His brother, manager for the Cutting Edge Conference, knew of Mark’s friendships with now famous jazz musicians and invited Mark to put together a jazz showcase for the conference. Trombonist Delfeayo Marsalis was first on his list. And Trumpeter Jeremy Davenport, trombonist Wes Anderson, saxophonist Victor Goines, trumpeter Michael Ray, and several others would soon follow. One of those musicians he invited was trumpeter Kermit Ruffins. Mark found himself discussing his current dismay in the energy business world with Kermit’s manager Tom Thompson. At the time, Mark was enjoying his role as an entertainment coordinator for the music conference and told Tom that he thought he might want to go into business as a manager or agent of artists. Tom would go on to tell Mark about how Kermit recently fulfilled his three-album contract to Justice Records and was ready to record his next album. But Tom needed five thousand dollars to make it happen. The seemingly two separate problems actually formed one solution. This is how Basin Street Records came to be. Together with Tom, Mark formed the company officially and used the entity as a vehicle to release Kermit’s record. On November 14th, 1997, Mark found himself at Tipitina’s recording Kermit Ruffins live to a packed house. In February of 1998, Basin Street Records would release its first record, Swingin’ Live (Later named The Bar-B-Que Swingers Live) just in time for Mardi Gras. Mark had zero experience running a record company at this point. And I pause to emphasize this. Because if there’s anything I would like for my audience to gather from my articles, it’s that anything is possible. And whether it be within the confines of music, or the confines of Louisiana, therein lies no exception! Together with his father, Mark would eventually see the sale of that energy business and officially be solely in the music business. He would also at this point buy Tom out of Basin Street Records as well. The near future would reveal another chance meeting that would yield Basin Street’s second release, Los Hombres Calientes, volume 1. Jason Marsalis, Irvin Mayfield, and Dr. Michael White would follow suit in the coming years.

At the end of 2000, Mark’s family was in a car accident that killed his wife. And he found himself having to raise three children on his own as well as run the label. Los Hombres Calientes, by now, was scheduled to record their third volume in six different countries. But Mark would have to stay behind to pick up the pieces and begin again. Looking back, you will find, this was one rare occasion when Mark took pause. But from this point on, he never stopped. Basin Street Records expanded over the next few years, bringing his brother onboard as his operations director. And that album Los Hombres Calientes left to record ended up getting a Grammy nomination. More artists were added to the roster year after year. In April of 2004, he released 6 albums in one day, including two movie soundtracks. And in 2005, he released three albums in time for Jazzfest. Four months later when Hurricane Katrina hit, he never quit moving forward. With staff scattered about the country and a flooded warehouse, he somehow kept the business intact while once again picking up pieces of his life. We went on for some time about how switching distributors landed him in with Sony, his take on digital downloads and streaming, and so much more. Please consider checking out the podcast episode titled Mark Samuels to get the full story. You can access it via your favorite streaming platform below. We thank Mark Samuels for being such a gracious host and inspiring us all to pursue our dreams at all costs.

Author: David Trahan

Neworleansmusicians.com