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Chris Leblanc, part 2

At the conclusion of the first part of our discussions with Chris Leblanc, he had just found out his wife was pregnant. He was being courted by reps from RCA Records. They had flown him and his band out to California to showcase for executives and discuss his future with RCA. After much thought, Chris actually decided against signing with them. He took stock of his life and his surroundings, and what his life was soon to be with a child on the way. And he felt as though the security of a future where he was at the wheel was more appealing than the promises of strangers from another place. Chris surmised, “I don’t know man. I might have chased millions, but I ain’t chasing carrots.” This did not have an effect on his momentum. He was still performing constantly. And he had two records under his belt propelling him. However, with a child on the way and intimate knowledge of the rigors of recording a studio album, he needed to find something that appeased both his discipline as a musician and his requirements as a father. Something to consider was the advance in technology during his life up until this point. Electronics had become smaller and more powerful. ADAT’s and mixing boards were no longer necessary elements of album production. A friend of his encouraged him to consider doing an acoustic album. The idea was a non-invasive one, so to speak. And his friend could facilitate his needs with a laptop, Protools, and a few mics. He found himself at a church in downtown Baton Rouge, in an adjoining chapel room, starting a new chapter in his music career near the pulpit. He did two to three takes of each tune using just his acoustic and a couple of metal slide guitars. In three and a half hours, he had made a record. With some help from a few producer friends, the best tunes were picked. Everything was mixed and mastered and a new record, Son of the South was born. “It’s probably one of my favorite. I just love what it is. It just sounded really honest and I believed it. When you listen to it, you believe it.” On it was a mixture of originals and covers from Randy Neuman, Robert Johnson and Taj Majal.

Where Chris saw himself in five years before the birth of his son wasn’t where he saw himself in five years after his birth. But he still very much desired to be a full-time musician. Acoustic gigs and band gigs prevented him from ever feeling stuck or stagnant. He was also writing new songs constantly, trying them out with his band to see what sticks. He enjoyed opportunities to play festivals and occasions opening up for anyone and everyone. His band shared stages with people like ZZ Top, Hank Williams Jr, Leon Russel, Buddy Guy, and Brett Michaels, playing for tens of thousands of people at a time. He liked being the first music in the room. Another thing that appeased his demands for progress was time spent in his home studio. He was able to cut a few new songs in there, keeping things moving. But what he had wasn’t quite enough for an album. Presonus, retailers of professional production and recording equipment, were sponsoring Chris at the time. And they would attend his performances, capturing the live recordings. The material they gathered, coupled with the seven songs Chris and his band cut in his home studio culminated in the production of his fourth album, Starshine, in 2005. This was a unique offering to his fans because it combined studio cut material and live material in the same body of work.

Having several albums and performing for such large crowds did two things. For fans and peers in the music business, it legitimized his existence in the field. For Chris, it left him with a feeling of accomplishment; one that instilled a sense that things were constantly building. For those of us that are ambitious, this feeling brings a gratifying calmness. And not only that, Chris has always considered his music career a living thing. He has never wanted to see this precious living thing grow sluggish. Both his life and his career have always manifested themselves in adventure. Where he’s going in his life is revealed to him as he goes along, with music as “man’s best friend” right alongside him. He always played regardless of what it was at the time or what it would become. “If it’s not living, then it’s dead. And I don’t want my career dead. I want my career… whatever it is… you got management or you don’t have management. You’ve got a record deal or you don’t have a record deal. Or this guy’s playing with you or he’s not. Or you got this new guy that’s playing with you that’s a lot of fun. You know, it’s all of those things that I’ve always found interesting in bands that I love and in music that I love. I love that part of the music industry.”

We discussed the age-old question of originals versus covers. Because covers have always been a part of his career. Personally, no matter the intended trajectory of a band, they are a necessary element and are undoubtedly instrumental in the initial growth of anyone who plays. Chris agreed that they help open the crowd’s eyes and ears to your talent and help usher in an open mind for one’s original material. He pointed out that perhaps some refuse to play originals because they simply aren’t good enough to pull it off. At any rate, to play a good cover is proof positive of talent in its own right. As Chris went on to point out, the Beatles, Ray Charles, the Rolling Stones, and Led Zeppelin were all cover bands at their essence. “The greatest rock and roll bands ever were fucking cover bands! Let’s be real. People go, oh I’m not gonna play cover music. Because playing cover music… You better be pretty fucking good. When you go see a band, there’s a lot of bands you go see and they’re great playing their own music. But how do you really get the level of a band? When you see them cover a song that you thought was like, fucking crazy. Like you just played me Green Gasoline. They’re fucking cool, right? The first thing I ever saw of this band was them covering Highway Star by Deep Purple. And I’m like, these mother fuckers are ridiculous! They’re bad… fucking… ass! That’s how you realize, these mother fuckers are great! They just played Highway Star? You go play Highway Star mother fucker. Good luck! They’re badass bruh! Yes! Yes! You’re like fuck dude, that’s… that’s tough! That’s how you realize, you’re like man, they’re badass. That to me is like the fucking sign of greatness; when somebody picks a tune and goes and destroys it.” He went on to cite the importance of picking something that’s worth playing; a song that makes people say ‘I forgot how much I love that song’. He also pointed out that bands should pick something that’s not outside their wheelhouse, and something that other bands aren’t playing. As for his, he’s always been fond of the Rolling Stones, The Beatles, or Lazy Lester. As for me, I like the idea of looking for things that aren’t covered. I come from a generation where there was a B-side. And on occasion, these B-sides would have a gem. And I am fond of the concept of showing others the obscure, overlooked gem.  

At the time of our meeting, Chris had been one busy guy. In April, May, and June (of ’23), he was playing four to six gigs a week. These consisted of both solo acoustic shows and performances with his full band. In ten weeks, he had played over fifty shows. He called it “bringing medicine to the people”. He expressed his desire to be able to look back on all of this without regret; without the regret of not having put forth the effort. And this effort, in his eyes, is of a selfless nature. These gigs do equate to a monetary denomination which pays his bills. But the currency of this man, as any friend will tell you, is touching human lives. Living a life of service, essentially, comes with its own sacrifices. That night, he said, “I want to stay home, eat a steak and have some drinks. But you know where I’m going? I’m going out to play.” At this point in his life, he is taken to reflection frequently. He has a reached a point in his career where the fight has subsided, in a manner of speaking. It has become a place of comfort. Among other things, we discussed his direction from here and what, if any, areas would he consider outside of his comfort zone. You can hear his answers in the podcast episode titled Chris Leblanc part 2 by selecting your streaming service below. I do thank you for reading, as Chris has an incredible energy and humble presence that most certainly deserves our praise. Take care everyone!

Author: David Trahan

Neworleansmusicians.com

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    Chris Leblanc (pt 1)

    Though his life started out in the city, Chris spent the majority of his childhood in the country-side of East Baton Rouge. At the age of ten, the view outside his window transformed from traffic ladened buildings to the serenity of grass and the trees. He was surrounded by friends, and recalls fondly those small-town ball fields, cutting up on dirt bikes and skateboards, and of course, the family gatherings. He was one of twenty-eight grand children in a family that was always together. Spending much time in his father’s rehearsal room, it was his family that started him in music. All his life, Chris’ father was playing bass and singing in a band. And his mother, sisters and uncles all either sang or played an instrument. So, it’s no wonder he found himself alongside others at functions performing for family and friends. This didn’t just acclimate him to being in front of spectators at an early age. As he recalled, it brought to him the idea that there was no “us and them” when it came to the performers and the crowd. A warm feeling came over them all as a young child played bass, belting out old Hank Williams tunes. In fourth grade, Chris was able to join his school band. Though he originally wanted to play alto sax, he opted for the trumpet after seeing his dad’s face wince at the price tag. He took an interest in the saxophone probably because it was the instrument never around at family gatherings. And although he will say the trumpet, in particular, never spoke to him. He points out that music theory and the communication of music on paper was an invaluable gift bestowed upon him through the experience.

    Chris’ head was constantly in music. Whether it was at school under the guidance of instructors or at home in his room, he would come home after reading sheet music and playing brass at school, slap on a record, and listen to it over and over again. With a bass in hand, he learned every single tune. He wasn’t just processing the notes. This was teaching him song arrangement as well. He was simultaneously immersed in music outside of these avenues. Back in 1976, he attended his first concert with family. Willie Nelson and Waylon Jennings were on the Redheaded Stranger Tour. He recalls it having such an impact on him. “The next show I go see, my uncle takes me to the superdome to go see the Rolling Stones in 1980. And there’s fucking 90,000 people there bra! And I’m like… the Rolling Stones! I’m a kid! I’m eleven years old! I’m probably the youngest kid in the place. And I’m watching the Rolling Stones! I’m like, I’m gonna play rock and roll for the rest of my life! I am going to play music for the rest of my life. I don’t care what it takes.” For the most part, Chris had been in a bubble of sorts up until this point. He knew what it was to play in intimate familial settings. And he had the benefit of symphonic band, marching band, and jazz band through school. But these instances were more or less in traditional genres from older generations. He had now witnessed firsthand the awesome power of a global rock band in an energized stadium. And this occurred during his foray into the multi-genre pop explosion that swept the 80’s. There was blood in the water. And he would constantly look for more. Bob Marley, The Police, The Clash, Duran Duran, Lynyrd Skynyrd; the list went on and on. Previously embracing this sonic world as a student, he found all of this easy to dissect. The discipline of music had finally connected with his passion, all of the pieces fitting together.

    High school really opened up his mind. Under a strong band director, Wayne Frazier, he was able to learn and grow enormously. What’s funny is that he approached high school band with the mindset that he would be able to put down the trumpet, play bass in the high school jazz band, and not let on to the director that he could or wanted to play anything else. But Mr. Frazier having other things in mind explained, “I’ve already heard about you. I know who you are. I know you play trumpet. And you’re gonna play trumpet in marching and symphonic. If you wanna play bass in jazz band, you’re going to play in marching and symphonic.” While this may have stopped any other 13-year-old in their tracks, Chris went along with the plan. As a result, he was able to learn coordinated shows in marching band as well as the complexities of symphonic band. Throughout high school, he was completely steeped in music and growing as a musician at an incredible rate. At fourteen, he was playing in his father’s band with grown men. They would hand him the work tape, and before you knew it, he had learned forty songs on his bass. I laughed out loud during the interview when his eyes widened describing the first few times he was handed hundreds of dollars after a gig. By the time he ended his junior year, he had become the drum major of a 200-person marching band and would go on to drum major camp. It was evident in our talks just how much all of this meant to Chris. Not the title, not even the curriculum per se, but the much-needed discipline and the boundaries instilled in him as a musician taught Chris how to focus. On the Monday following a weekend marching band performance, the band would watch tape. This was a revelatory time in his life, one that also further solidified the concept of “there is no us and them”. Because it drew the connection between the band and the crowd. That tape would show everyone, all at once, performing as ants to build the mound. Thus, illustrating to Chris how his and so many others’ parts were perceived. And this, to Chris, was beautiful.

    High school ended and he received the Marine Corps Semper Fidelis Musical Excellence Award, recognizing Chris for his musical achievements and leadership, as well as being a role model for other students. It was surprise for me to learn that he didn’t join Tiger Band when he attended LSU that fall. But as he pointed out, at that time in his life he had been in 25-plus bands outside of school and in school, completely saturated in a structured band setting. With the absence of the lifestyle of a “student” of music, Chris was finally able to sit back and ask himself, ‘what is it that I want to do in music?’ He really wanted to front his own band for a change. But he felt as though in order to do that properly he would have to play guitar. Drums, bass, trumpet, and a mic all had passed through his hands. He could strum an acoustic sometimes. But the guitar wasn’t in his hands enough to feel familiar. Back when it was time for him to get his first instrument, he chose brass because it was missing from his eyes and ears. And now, he focused on guitar. Because it too had been missing. There was also this element of exploration that hadn’t played a substantial role in his life. For all the times he found himself with an instrument, there was an agenda. There was sheet music to read. There was a work tape to learn. There were song arrangements to be constructed and deconstructed. He wanted to experience the freeing sensation of exploratory, improvisational bliss. He had seen Jimi Hendrix “ride the wave”.  And without lessening his grip, he longed for the euphoric deliverance he knew an instrument could provide given the right circumstances.

    Chris invested time in people adept on the guitar. He would hang with them at their houses, often accompanying them on performances and open mic nights. All the while, trying to gain some semblance of this new path to sound. One day a buddy of his showed him the E Major scale laid out on a guitar neck. “And so, I started looking at this. And it was like… I broke the matrix! I really did. When you look at the guitar neck and it adds up longways and crossways. It’s like, I feel like I broke the matrix. And knowing that ok cool, I know where these positions are. And then, all of the sudden, it’s just repeating. It’s just a circle of never ending what you can get out of it. And then, that’s when my world opened up. I had this level of confidence that came over me. And I was like, I can do this.” Time flies by in hindsight, as you will find here. The steps Chris took and the people he surrounded himself with would culminate in the formation of his own band in 1991. People thought it odd that he named it simply, “The Chris Leblanc Band”. Noone does that they would say. But honestly, if you think about it, all the greats did. Jimi Hendrix, Santana, Van Halen, Janis Joplin, and Steve Miller all did it. Why couldn’t he? Getting gigs at places like Tipitina’s and Jimmy’s Music Club, and writing blues-rock tunes had him feeling like he had made it. He opened for bands like Sonny Landreth, Jeff Healy, Yellowman, and The Fabulous Thunderbirds. But not having an album always made him feel a little less-than.

    Being in the land of no internet under a band name that was just as unknown as any other, having an album was crucial. The concept of branding wasn’t an idea at the forefront of many, if any, independent bands back then. Gigging as much as possible and networking to get those gigs set the bar. “I’ve got no record. We’re out playing. Things are happening. I’ve got these songs and they’re just floating out in fucking space ‘cuz there’s no record. This buddy of ours, Riley Ethridge, and I say buddy. I didn’t know the dude from nobody. He comes and sees us play in a club in Baton Rouge. And he’s like, you’ve got it. I’ve got a studio behind my house. And he goes, I want you to come… I’m offering to you, you come record in my studio and you don’t have to pay me anything up front. You just come and we’ll track your hours. And you need a record. I mean can you imagine? I’ve got nothing! There’s no internet. There’s no computer in somebody’s house. There’s no digital audio workstation, or protools in their house. The only thing people had was a Tascam four-track multi-cassette recorder. And I didn’t have that because my ass was broke. I was driving around in a 1974 Econoline Ford van.” I brought up the idea that at that time, this didn’t constitute a desperate time. Because it WAS the time. People today think one needs all these things to make anything happen. And it just isn’t so. In my eyes, people today don’t realize that a land existed before the internet. And that land is chock-full of success stories. Before this experience with the guy’s home studio, he had never been inside one. But now he’s finally there. He was getting guidance from an engineer friend, Wendell Tilley, focusing for as many takes as it required. Somehow, he would score the opportunity to get his album mastered by Bernie Grundman. Billy Joel and Whitney Houston were just a glimpse into the credits under this man’s belt. This was a godsend for Chris, because at this moment he was nine tunes into eight-thousand dollars in debt. He explained, “Back then I knew, if I wanted to have any kind of legitimacy to what I was gonna do, my record was gonna fall between Lenny Kravitz and Led Zeppelin on the rack at the record store. And it better fucking sound pretty fucking good!” He would follow this turn of events with even greater strides. He booked a night at the Varsity Theater in Baton Rouge to mark the release of his debut album, titled The Chris Leblanc Band, and it sold out. He showed up with 1,000 CDs and sold over 450 CDs in one night, giving him the ability to pay off his record. Bursting with pride, he finally felt as though he was a success. He recalled a time when he played at House of Blues back when they first opened up. They wanted a piece of his CD sales for the night. But this was his baby. Without giving in, and much to the chagrin of the club and some of its performers there, he simply gave away CDs that night.

    In 1998 after years of gigging, selling CDs and T-shirts, and saving money, he was able to record a second album. One that would be in the same blues/ rock vein, but with more pop sensibility. His sophomore effort would be titled The Chris Leblanc Band: Talent Show. This time, his engineer friend Wendell Tilley had his own studio, one with a great big cutting room. And Bernie Grundman would master his work. The record release party for this record would sell out as well. And at that performance, a rep from RCA would meet Chris and offer to fly him and his band out to Los Angeles to showcase for the company. Things were looking up. And to be honest, they had been even before that moment. During his come-uppance, he had bought a house, he had bought cars, and he had built a home studio. And with a growing comfort in a studio setting came studio gigs. He would record on other musicians’ albums and even do voice-over work for commercials. The courting process between him and RCA seemed like the next logical step. But as that was happening, Chris found out he was going to be a father. It caused him to really take stock in the prospect of this record deal. RCA was ready to sign him after that showcase. A move to Los Angeles would be in order directly. But to himself, he felt as though things were going great as they were. The guarantee of the present felt more secure than RCA’s promise of his future. And ultimately, he opted to decline their offer. Fatherhood would now take center-stage. And the trappings of even a studio regiment would have to wait. But this would not be the end of Chris Leblanc as a musician. Still gigging, and after some time in his new position as a father, Chris would realize his next accomplishment. By this time technology had raced forward. Laptops and Protools meant that studio settings were smaller and most importantly, mobile. His appeal as a performing musician had not waned in the eyes of his fans and friends. And many would hint at the idea of his next album being just that, a stripped-down performance record. He never stopped writing during the pregnancy and following the birth. So, he had some songs to offer. This all would culminate in a proposition from a friend that involved a local chapel, Chris’ recorded songs, and his presence being captured in the most intimate way possible. I spent much time writing and rewriting this. Partly because, in reading back over what I wrote, it felt drab, and less-than. After several attempts, and much thought, I realized why. Several hours over the course of two days were expended talking with Chris and getting to know who he is. And I believe it was hard to capture here because he’s a simple man. He’s simple yet incredible. He has such an immeasurable depth of feeling and he has gone through a lot. Yet he always seemed to put his best foot forward. I think this is what it takes to be a great musician; an intensive sense of emotion, an intuitive good will, and raw talent. I hope to see you all back here in two weeks to read about the road Chris travelled following his child’s birth. At times, our discussion during the second installment parted ways with the tangible and aligned more closely with the ethereal. There was a lot of open honesty, at times even to the detriment of his own confidence. But Chris Leblanc was and is human in its truest form. I applaud him for it. And I know you will too.

    Author: David Trahan

    Neworleansmusicians.com

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    SaxKixAve

    Recently our friends at Mixed Alternative Magazine had the chance to rap with New Orleans-based hip-hop duo SaxKixAve, who are rising in popularity right now in the best of ways. Most musicians are lucky to have one successful project in a world where there are hundreds of thousands of songs being released every single day and the market is oversaturated. The chances of breaking through the noise are harder than ever, and those who actually do break through and see some success with one group is a rarity, let alone those who can take on and do well with multiple musical projects. Enter these fellas.

    SaxKixAve is one of those groups who are doing it all. Comprised of award-winning rapper Alfred Banks and Albert Allenback, saxophonist and flutist of the twice Grammy-nominated group Tank and the Bangas, these two artists stay plenty busy with their main gigs, but thanks to the suggestion of Tavia Osbey, manager of Alfred and of Tank and the Bangas, that the two work together at the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic, they started a side project that is truly something special. Their first record, “I Don’t Wear Suits,” was released in April 2020 and is a celebration of this collaboration, and the duo has been performing those songs in front of live audiences whenever they can find the time to do so.

    Earlier this year as SaxKixAve was finishing up their follow-up record, Mixed Alternative Magazine had them both over to chat about that record, about how they make this project work with their busy schedule, and about some of the band’s highlights so far. This is one bitchin’ Q&A with some super-cool artists that you’re gonna want to check out. Then, once you’ve read and pondered and laughed with them, check out their music, their videos, and support them on social media. SaxKixAve is rapidly on the rise and we’re all gonna want to keep an eye on them. Their music is as fresh, funky, upbeat, intelligent, honest, and unique as the guys who make it.

    MaM:  I’ve heard a couple different versions of what “kix’ed” this all off.  How did this insane, wonderful experiment begin?

    Albert: Well, Tavia—the manager of Tank and the Bangas and the engine, the logistic and business/life-path mind behind it all—hit me up and said [Alfred] was looking for beats. She said, ‘I know you make beats. Let’s get you in the studio together and see what happens.’

    Alfred: It was great … I like Alby. He’s good money. We crack wild jokes. He sent me an email of beats, I picked one, I wrote to it, knock this one out. It was right when COVID hit. So yeah, I got in the studio with this dude, [and] we laughed for about three or four hours before we even started really recording. I thought, ‘This is a good guy.’ We recorded ‘Tawny’ and I guess he liked what I did. I loved it, and we just kinda kept goin’, kept goin’, kept goin’. Then it was like, ‘Hey man, you wanna make this a thing?’

    Albert: It was like a ‘Step Brothers’ moment.

    Alfred: Yeah! He was like, ‘Yeah!’ I was like, ‘Aight.’ [sic]

    Albert: Are we in a band? 

    Alfred: Are we a band?!

    Albert: Yeah, I think so!

    Alfred: (to Albert) Do you remember how we came up with the name? I know we joke about it.

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    Will Wesley

    Reflecting on our conversation, I felt as though it took Will some time to come out of his shell, so to speak. At first, his answers seemed slightly guarded and intentionally humble; contrived perhaps. But as the interview went on, I believe Will identified the sincerity in my contributions and line of questioning. And eventually he became more invested in the exchange. I’d say this would summarize his childhood years quite well. Where at first, he was tasked with navigating a tough populous in his hometown. But eventually, as he came to trust music as a nonjudgmental, creative outlet, he began to reveal his true self.

    I was speaking with Exhorder’s founder Vinnie LaBella recently. And the topic of punk music came up. We exchanged ideas about how it influenced thrash music, and how the two were both extremely intertwined and infectious. I brought an idea to the forefront that we both agreed was fact. If you do not live the genre of music you currently write and produce, you will not be successful. Moreso, you will be lying to yourself, a fallacy in the court of public opinion, and at the very least, a hard sell. I believe this to be true for all genres. And I believe it to be one of the many reasons why Will Wesley will always pass muster. At times country, at times rock and roll, and always with an underlying current of blues, he has lived and breathed these elements since he was a child. Growing up in Baker, Louisiana, which was settled but not thriving, an impoverished society delivered these principles to Will at a young age. He was the youngest of three children. And with a growing family to feed, his father had set down the guitar to pick up more shifts at a local plant. Though family finances had overshadowed his father’s dreams of being a full-time musician, Will quickly became of age to have that torch passed down to him. Sharing in Will’s ambition and love of music, he made sure to instill in him the idea that playing music was to be taken seriously. He wouldn’t have Will simply learn a few chords. He wanted him learning music theory. And he imparted to Will how important the business aspect of music would become in due time.

    Exploring his motives as a young man, Will was the first to admit that he picked up the guitar in an effort to get more girls. It is worth affirming there were a few other factors that garnered his attention, like the support of his father and the strength it lent their bond. He would also admit that playing guitar didn’t change much when it came to girls. But before long, ironically, he was passing up dates to play shows. Falling in love with the art gave him tunnel vision. No tangible thing could replace it. Unlike his surroundings, it didn’t judge him. It didn’t threaten him. And it brought him closer in the mind of a working father of three.

    Drawn to punk music in his early years, Will was a fan of the idea that “three chords and the truth” could transcend genres and audiences. The similarities in the cores of genres, he pointed out, kept him relearning the things he already knew. These subtle resemblances provided comfort for a youth that was constantly trying to find his voice in music. Yet he did not hesitate to decide upon original songs as his chosen path. Like many, he would practice covering a variety of songs in his room to get his chops up. But for Will, his expression manifested itself as original compositions of straight rock and roll. Given his propensity for punk rock, he became an avid fan of bands like Green Day, Sublime, and 311. His first band would be called Crotch. Before you knew it, this kid from the small town of Baker, Louisiana had orange hair and was stage diving. He recalled a surreal experience one night at a Green Day concert when he was just fourteen. “Billie Joe Armstrong asked if anybody plays guitar. And my brother at the time lifted me higher than anyone else and this dude gets me on stage. And I look out in this crowd and there is just thousands and thousands of people. I’m scared but its just like… I am alive! You know what I’m saying?” He went on to tell us what Billie whispered in his ear at that moment. “Look dude I really hope you know how to play. The chords are G, D and C. And I was like, yeah yeah I know that. And the dude just gives me the guitar, and he kisses me square in the mouth. And when I started playing and the crowd started going nuts, I knew from there… man crowd applause and live audiences are quite addictive. I was addicted and I’ve been that way ever since”. 

    An experience like this made him want for nothing else. All he wanted to do was play bar chords and get laid. Luckily, the urgings of his parents would still permeate through the desires of a young Will. Though he had dropped out of school, to his mother’s wishes he acquiesced and returned, getting his diploma. And to his father’s wishes, he allowed words of wisdom to take the place of his immature cravings. As his father explained to him, “If you’re gonna do this, you can’t do it half-way. There’s musicians on the street homeless that can play you out of this city. You’re gonna have to be a business person to survive.” Into his twenties, Will became a music director for Grady Champion, a Grammy Award-winning blues musician out of Canton Mississippi, and toured around the world. During his time home, he got involved with a woman who was also a musician. The two would form a duo. The goal for Will at that time, aside from pursuing his relationship, was to see the music they made gain traction. So, he immersed himself and his efforts to that end. The relationship would eventually fade, as did their musical duo. The typical town gossip would follow and belittlement had him feeling low. Depression began to set in as Will began to question himself. Looking back, he realized that he had come from making great strides in his own career only to put himself in the background for a relationship. The promotion of this duo was perhaps motivated more by love interests and less by creative interests.

    Will began to hear his father’s words in his mind. There would be no more playing for the sake of playing, or playing for the sake of a relationship. He needed to return to his roots; creative writing through close attention to music theory, and creative direction through close attention to business acumen. He needed someone that existed outside the local whirlpool of small-town mentalities and rumors, someone that could help clear his mind and focus. He called a friend he had worked with in the past by the name of Phil Chandler. Phil had produced for Will in the past and done some bar gigs with him. But most importantly, Phil was from out-of-town. The two began to discuss a number of songs that Will wanted to get recorded, as well as Phil’s recently recorded EP under the band name Orange Joe. Opportunities to gig at that time were few and far between. Being that this occurred during the onset of Covid, the two had to get creative to kept things moving. One solution they settled upon was writing (and subsequently selling) commercial jingles. As their momentum began to accelerate, they decided to take what else they had and publish it together. The result would be a body of work that housed Phil’s EP as well as Will’s recorded songs. It was a seventeen song, double album called Both Sides of the Tracks. Characteristically typical of any bands’ first album, they described it as an extremely polar, country rock/ country americana album. But despite Covid, it kept them productive creatively. And it earmarked a moment in time, both good and bad. Some of Will and Phil’s friends, family, and fellow musicians that were involved with this album didn’t make it through the pandemic. But on the other side of this traumatic occurrence, Both Sides of the Tracks stood tall. Its reception was global, garnering radio play on stations everywhere. This was a fortunate break being that distribution services were backlogged due to many cooped up musicians at home writing and recording. This catalyst also contributed to the star-studded roster on their debut album. Singer/ songwriter and guitarist Kern Pratt, fiddle player Michael Cleveland, singer/ fiddle player/ producer Allison Krauss, singer/ songwriter/ guitarist Doc Watson, and singer/ songwriter/ guitarist John Marty Stewart were some of the people that contributed to this release.

    Obvious hardships gave birth to a robust independence for them both. The album that was recorded, produced, and promoted from their homes now had a global presence. They formed their own label, Roanoke Records and solidified management with Brian Abrams of Century Palm Agency on a beach over a fifth of honey whiskey. Since then, their hard work has resulted in a European tour, a spot opening for the globally recognized band Alabama, and multiple show dates in Switzerland and Bangkok. Their next album, Ready to Ride is set to drop this summer. Subscribe to our podcast by picking your streaming service below and hear about the duo’s experiences overseas, the noticeably darker tone of this next album, partner Phil Chandlers thoughts on music business, and so much more. Thanks goes out to Will Wesley and Phil Chandler for such a great interview.

    Author: David Trahan

    Neworleansmusicians.com

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    Petty Betty

    With family roots in both Ecuador and Sicily, Petty Betty front woman Erica Calle was born into a vibrant, culturally diverse family in New Orleans East. To hear her describe it, this was not an atmosphere for the meek. “The only way you get heard at the dinner table… who talks the loudest is who gets heard. So, I’ve never been told I’m a quiet person. And I don’t think I ever will. I just found a way to turn that into a positive.” Music never really held a dominant presence in the household. And although natural heritage was held close on both sides of the family, focus was concentrated on assimilation into American culture. As a result, she recalls her mother having an affinity for vinyl with no distinctive musical genre. And her father being somewhat of a fan of smooth jazz. In lieu of concerts or music festivals, the pair would often opt for more peaceful outdoor experiences such as rock climbing and camping.

    After a short stint in Texas, her parents came back to settle in Denham Springs. And though Erica had grown fond of singing, she just didn’t have the knack for it. “I remember being in sixth grade and I went to St. John Vianney in Baton Rouge, a small Catholic school. I remember getting up and signing Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree in front of my class. It was terrible. The kids laughed.” What one might think would have a negative impact on a young Erica, didn’t. She would tell you that she was (and is) more stubborn than talented. But her love for performing grossly overstated the reaction she observed from the crowd. And she would do it again and again. It wasn’t until she was about twelve years old that some things started to fall into place. She was in her room singing and her mother mistook her for the radio. But what both had not taken into account was that, through maturation, her voice had dropped. It was at that moment that her mother really took interest in nurturing what would blossom into a wonderful talent. The notion was sealed with procurement of a voice coach and lessons.

    Erica had come into the situation loving pop songs and expressed interest in singing one for her first recital. But her voice coach would insist she take on a more soulful approach, while trying to cater to a deeper tone. And this felt right.

    Later on in life, Erica would study through vocal coaches at LSU. And once again she found herself singing in less habitable, higher tones. She recalls this as being exhausting. While she realized that one of her goals should be to provide for a wide vocal range, singing soprano did not feel natural to her. This was compounded by the fact that singing in a deeper tone physically came from a different part of her body. Not to mention singing soulful music came from her heart. “You don’t understand the why’s that you feel that way until you’re older. There’s a difference in singing rehearsed music and singing from your soul. And that’s something you learn about yourself as you go. So, I think what’s really cool about music, about the arts is that you’re really… not so much you’re learning a talent, you’re learning and discovering yourself.” Beginning with an interest in pop music and singing in soprano really took her off course. But luckily, by following her heart, and with a little help from a voice coach, Erica found the way back to herself.

    With mental and emotional support from her family as a child, she was able to realize her own vision as a singer. Her father even once driving her all night to Atlanta, Georgia for a competition in The Voice; at which she garnered her spot in the second round. But attempting so much in the midst of a cold landed her with blown vocal chords; a wound that would take years to mend. Even speaking would render her hoarse. So, she buried herself in life away from singing. Depression and weight gain would soon follow. An abusive relationship helped to further suppress the voice of a once boisterous young woman. And a roughly ten-year break from involvement in music resulted. She likened the experience to boiling a frog. These things culminated slowly, but had a lasting effect on her. Some friends approached her one night after karaoke asking if she would be interested in joining their band, and she accepted. It was a way back into a life of singing which was good for her. But she didn’t know how to advocate for herself when it came to what worked for her as an artist. As tensions in the band rose, so did the abusive situation at home. And although she learned a lot while in that band, when the time came as she said, “When I got out, I had to get out”. Her abusive home life was intertwined with her band life. So, when she made the decision to leave the relationship, she also made the decision to leave the band.

    Her next foray into singing would be what we all know today as Petty Betty. Hearing things like, “no little sister, what works best for you” made her know for sure she had found the right place. For Erica, learning the ins and outs of musicians and how they work became possible in an atmosphere conducive to growth. And the bunch all became like family. Petty Betty practiced for a solid year before performing live. Since then, they have enjoyed immeasurable success. But to do this, they came out the gate ready to handle not just the gigs themselves, but bookings and networking as well. They began live having gigs booked out for months. The Betty Boop/ Betty Page theme underlying their name had given them a distinctive look. And their embracive style with the crowd had landed them a truly loyal following. Though Covid impacted them as deeply as it did many bands, Erica took the instance as an opportunity to network even harder, committing to livestreams and serving as a go-between to help other bands remain active.

    Though some of this was about self-preservation, much of it became about the worth of a community of musicians as a whole. She gained an understanding of her own self-worth, as well as the worth of the musicians around her. And it now can be heard in her speaking about the way venues and musicians currently do business. She walked away from her experience with Covid realizing that a line must be drawn for musicians to uphold, whereby venues understand that a respectable business practice is in order. Like she said, “ I think that working within the music and the venue community, building those relationships helped to understand that value.” Instilling a perspective in people comes over time and through the efforts of not just one. Petty Betty has also sought to add value to what they do by making covers uniquely their own. At their shows you might hear House of the Rising Sun w a soulful nature, or Johnny B Goode w a double bass, or even Gangster’s Paradise and Lenny Kravitz Fly Away mashed together. An active schedule gigging has strained the band’s ability to find a spare moment to work on some originals. But a life, for some time, lived on an emotional roller coaster has Erica at no shortage for material. She has so much written that she can’t wait to work on. You can hear more about the artist on our podcast interview and the video version will be on our Youtube channel soon. In the meantime you can keep up with the band on facebook, including live examples of their work at https://www.facebook.com/PettyBettyLIVE.

    Author: David Trahan

    For Neworleansmusicians.com

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    David Trahan

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    In mid-January of this year, I was joined on one of my new podcasts by the proprietor of NewOrleansMusicians.com. We met originally on the Mississippi River in a previous life and time under considerably different circumstances. I wouldn’t call it a chance encounter as it was our respective day jobs that brought us together that morning, but it was, without question, an intriguing introduction. He wasn’t like any other I’d met in his position. Little did I know the complexities of the man standing before me.

    The opportunity to observe and study David’s mind in action was one with which I’d been eager to embrace. I wanted to know what made him tick. There was an odd connection that morning on the river. I most certainly had a sincere interest in his intended topic of discussion for our podcast visit, but also very much in the side of him that he seemed to be low-key deliberately keeping separate from his web presence. I appreciated his candor and participation in my podcast project, and owed him the very same respect he’d shown me, though our very first moment meeting would have suggested no such thing. 

    I was working for one of the largest towboat and barge companies in the country, and his employer was no slouch either. They were a contractor for us. I’d boarded the vessel at an opportune time where I got to spend time with back watch first. Back watch had the characters (I thought). Some of those guys preferred it. It was such a different pace of life out there.  I could feel it in the air in the wheelhouse that morning.  A certain choking silence intruded as he came back up for his next six-hour watch.  A flurry of perceived thoughts resounded across the space between us and in that glare that stared at me as he came up those steep, wooden stairs…

    “You mother fucker. I haven’t had coffee yet. Who the fuck is this guy? Why is he in my wheelhouse?”

    And then the other pilot chuckled his way back downstairs.  I may have fabricated these thoughts in my recollection and retelling here, but anyway, I digress.  I paused for a moment when he first appeared before me. I blinked myself into quiet and regained my composure. This guy was different.  He was distracted by a pointless distraction, but I was really only there to make money.  I had a household to support.  I’d been visiting boats to help coach pilots on a new computer system every other week for a while by then.  David didn’t really need my help in the system. A few pleasantries and minor questions about the new system precluded a much deeper and more engaging conversation.

    It turned out that our mutual misconceptions were forgotten when the coffee pot began dripping behind him. I kept in touch deliberately over time. He wanted to promote his project on my new podcast, and his passion for this website I hadn’t heard of was clearly evident and on display. I didn’t much follow the music scene these days, but I was, indeed, from just outside News Orleans.

    My podcast projects document the lives of my guests from a broad array of origins and journeys through life. I’d kept in touch with David over the few short years since we’d first met, and often discussed the side projects upon which we’d both been so feverishly working on our time off. In one of the more recent of those conversations, he shared the story of a passion project of his to develop a service for the local music industry in The Big Easy that had been in production for many years, lingering forever in the back of his mind.

    ‘I sat back in quiet awe as I studied the backdrop before which he sat looking toward me. His studio mic reached out from left to right on screen and sat ready at his chin. He’d done this before. I knew this should be a good one.’

    The conversation began as they all did, and I learned we grew up in the same area of southeast Louisiana just outside New Orleans, but we did so a decade apart.  It was a different world.  He was in my older brother’s generation, but some sort of trust had somehow developed between us over time. There was an unspoken acknowledgement of mutual respect, understanding and comprehension, but from when he had first left home to the time I met him, our lives couldn’t have been more divergent.  

    His journey through life began as most others do. He showed up one day in 1976 and developed a love and appreciation for music at a very early age. Gifted in school, but drawn more to life in the streets, he found himself traveling aimlessly down the wrong path.  Disenchanted and distracted, he didn’t even finish college. Working odd jobs between and after classes wasn’t cutting it, nor were the jobs he’d been able to secure in the interim after cutting ties with his tertiary education.

    The need and desire for disposable income and a happenstance job listing led him to a career entirely unrelated to music. It provided a path and direction out of trouble and well offshore.  Amidst a developing career in an industry to which he’d had little to no exposure previously, an opportunity arose for him to acquire the full rights and ownership of a website project he believed in. He endeavored to secure a web presence and acquired every available domain he could that may pertain to his new project.

    His respect for the industry in which he worked professionally, and the knowledgebase upon which he drew on the job, led naturally to the drive and ambition that structured his pursuit of the passion project he sought to develop online when he was at home. It had become an obsession. With a growing family and an already demanding career, NewOrleansMusicians.com had not fallen by the wayside. It remained at top of mind for him no matter where he was or what he was doing.

    What began as a networking tool for local bands, the website, NewOrleansBands.net, had grown organically to about 300 bands in its original configuration. The website was hosted out of town, so it remained online through Hurricane Katrina in late 2005, and kept local bands in touch with one another. David’s intended acquisition was delayed due to his job offshore, but in all of his spare time, he was drawing out by hand every page he’d imagined for the website he sought to own.  

    The challenges of web development at that time were obstacles preventing his dream.  He persisted nonetheless. In 2021, after years of spending money to maintain an excessive amount of owned domain names that tied directly to his website, he was spurred by a wife that had seen and heard enough about it.  Since then, he found and hired a programmer to deliver the dream he’d envisioned. While he hasn’t yet realized the grand design, he’s moved it every month toward the finish line.  If you’re a band anywhere in the state of Louisiana, or a part of any supporting service for the entertainment industry, check out NewOrleansMusicians.com.  

    Grow together.  Geaux together.

    We touch on his wife and family after he paints the dreamscape of his website.  Then, from rebuilding a ’76 Chevy to tinkering on the piano, the website still outshined the rest. There was a certainty about him, a dreaminess, a gleaming eye. He knew he wouldn’t be where he was without the nudge of the support system that awaited him at home for ten days at a time on repeat seemingly forever.

    “Here I am all grown up, Tim,” he’d finished with a laugh.

    “I’m watching it live,” I responded.

    You can expect two podcasts, at least four videos, and two articles every month on the site. And he hosts interviews to find and develop worthwhile content for the page. Musicians that join his site get immediate podcast and playlist placement, Youtube features, and promotional assistance all for free. And they can use his site to network, buy/ sell gear, read articles about Louisiana’s music scene, and experience music and videos from Louisiana’s scene. This man means it. He’s chasing the dream. Hop on that train before it leaves the station.

    Anyway… All that to say, “Cheers, David.”

    I find it difficult to comprehend the passion and commitment David demonstrates with NewOrleansMusicians.com. The schedule, agenda, and deadlines that he upholds for this thing are untenable to me. If I was nearly half as passionate about my own podcasts, I could probably make a career out of it. But I had the same concerns about financial security, the same reasons he maintained his day job, the same uncertainty that plagues any dream. David needs a better work schedule though. I’d like to start a petition…

    Author: Tim Tregle

    For Neworleansmusicians.com

    Please check out my work.

    “The Living History Collection” on YouTube. 

    www.youtube.com/@WhereYatStudiosLLC

    On Spotify, Google, Apple, and Amazon…

    Between the Levees and Getting to Know You – Where Y’at Studios, LLC

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    Pocket Chocolate

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    Imagine having to gather your extended thoughts precisely, no matter how abstract. And even though you weren’t sure how they’d be received, imagine having to deliver them in front of a large audience; all eyes on you. Now imagine you have nine personalities. You have nine schedules, nine talents, nine lives. This is the impossible that Pocket Chocolate is tasked with each time they hit the stage. But when nine lives of nine members converge precisely, it can seem like magic to one’s soul. Funk is the only map through this labyrinth of sound. Syncopated beats and lagging time help tell a story where the timing is in the delay. Even though they started off as a cover band, they always converged on an impromptu jam session mid-song. And from there, in a seamless, non-stop transition, they would somehow find their way into the next cover. These were both an homage to the leaders of yester year and a statement of the groove shared between two pieces; a subtle puzzle, if you will. Gradually, the nine lives have moved toward original material. Which, in itself, might leave a tumultuous mark in time. As after covering so many great sounds originating from so many great minds, it could get hard to denote where the cover ends and the original begins. Still, like their signature method of a cover itself, Pocket Chocolate seeks to vocalize their multi-faceted encounter as one nation under a groove, establishing their own signature sound.

    I sat down with Gabe France and Dalton Steiffel in a studio above a book store on Oak Street in New Orleans that I later described to my wife as a shrine. The space was lined with new and vintage synthesizers, amps, guitars and various other instruments. String lights lined the brick wall behind us. And as I set up for the interview, I couldn’t help but get the sensation I felt being in a Toy’s R Us as a kid. We were casual but punctual, and ready to go to work. We began by discussing what life was like for Gabe growing up. His household played host to an eclectic selection of music, Simon and Garfunkel, Beatles, Led Zeppelin, show tunes, and old New Orleans classics all shared time on the speakers. This was due in part to his growing up with three siblings. His mother, a pianist herself, would urge Gabe and his brothers to get involved in extracurricular activities centered around music and art. His older brother played in bands in school. But Gabe never gravitated toward playing. Music was always of interest to Gabe, namely 70’s funk and soul, and locals like John Cleary and Dumpstafunk. But he was into sports and had never envisioned himself as a musician. It took a bit of persuasion from his older brother and friend Connor, and seeing his older brother perform in bands of his own to pull him in. And at 11 he picked up a guitar. What was once an afterthought gradually turned into a sincere passion. Throughout the development of the story of his life, it was interesting for me to see the progression of Gabe’s involvement with music. He went from not seeing himself as a musician to ultimately playing three instruments, writing music theory, writing and singing lyrics, organizing set lists, and through his member coordination and contributions on bass, assuming responsibility for cohesiveness of the group. His relationship with music has definitely changed his perspective.

    Though his introduction to playing music came gradually through family and friends, that hasn’t always been the case. Originally, Gabe and his older brother both played guitar in Pocket Chocolate and their friend Reese played bass. But just before the pandemic, Reese moved out of town. And suddenly, the band found itself a man short. Gabe laughs recalling the rough transition, “It wasn’t that bad, you know. Especially going from the mindset of oh you know, I’m a guitarist. And then you have to switch. But I think it was definitely the best thing that could’ve happened…  When you play guitar, you listen to the guitar (parts). When you switch instruments, I’m listening to other things that I probably wouldn’t have been focusing on before. Now that I can kind of jump between instruments. You’re listening to the whole sound differently. Instead of, oh I’m going to take a solo right here, it’s oh I need to play something on bass right here that kind of sits in the background for them to take a solo. It’s helped me realize the whole structure of the song.” Here, by way of necessity, Gabe found himself grasping the reigns of congruity for the sound as a whole. His respect for the craft lent him to the preservation of harmony. And I might add, this is one of the many reasons I love music so much. The idea that, without speaking, people can come together, becoming one vessel, yet respecting each other’s individuality. Solos are the flowers bestowed upon members by each other.

    Pocket Chocolate has been playing together for about five years now. With nine members, a recorded EP, and too many show dates played to cite, it has instilled in Gabe an ability to coordinate on a grand scale. Drawing from his affinity for live albums and yesteryear’s popular method of one room, the band chose to record their EP in an altogether fashion at Downman Sounds in Gentilly, New Orleans. And in doing so sought to capture the raw sound; that sonic moment in time. Dalton added, “The big thing of that was doing it together in a live room, but taking full advantage of the recording process. And being able to go over afterward with the same microphone, the same horn players, and the same take, but just kind of reverberate and polish up those parts. You’re able to put the focus in and drill it. That way they have the credit they deserve for the work they put in for the parts.” The EP consists of five original tracks, as well as two covers in Pocket Chocolate style. And by saying that I mean you might hear what starts off as a cover of Fire on the Bayou by The Meters. Then it may break off into a jam session and gradually morph into Fly Like an Eagle by the Steve Miller Band. It’s a unique sound and presents an interesting contribution to the cover format. The band is shooting for a full-length album around summertime this year filled with originals and covers in similar fashion. For Gabe, learning song structure has helped with the process of structuring an album. And writing together with eight other members will always send the band on a journey to find its own best practices. “A lot of times, it will inevitably change just because there’s eight other people… that get a certain feeling or idea from what I have. You have to compromise and be willing to kind of go somewhere where you might not have thought that it could go.” And sometimes, believe it or not, things seem to fall right into place for the band. “It’s almost like musical vomiting. You know, just like throwing every idea you have possible. Because inevitably, once you keep going, you’ll find something where it’s like ok this is, I can work with this. And so, we got to that point with this specific one. This was just the rhythm section; so, guitar, bass, drums. I think Dalton was probably there as well on percussion and keys. And we kind of had a brainstorm of a certain idea that we wanted to continue with. But it was pretty much just one section of a song. And then we jammed a little bit with my cousin who plays guitar and it just was like oh, here we go! We have the chorus part now. We have the little interlude section or whatever. And then the horns kind of came in and have been working up a little part. Yeah, from where it started it’s just so cool.” This process is somewhat mirrored in their live performances. Only, it is more reminiscent of a comedian on stage with new material for the first time. They are working things out; using opportunities as a litmus to see what works and what doesn’t. And the final product is as close to what was in their mind at the time as can possibly be. Sometimes that means using a lull in the head count of a crowd at a bar to perform an original song they’ve never before performed live. “This can’t hurt. And it matters, obviously because it’s practice, you know. It’s getting the work in and reps. But the pressure’s off maybe a little bit more. And that kind of gives you a little more opportunity to maybe, you know, maybe I’ll try this out.”

    The influence of many members has had a positive impact in other ways. It has been instrumental in creating an identity for the band. And not just in terms of physical presentation on stage, but in their own sound and abilities. Being rooted in that New Orleans sound, it would be a stretch to cover certain local groups lacking the horn section, for instance. But boasting a brass section of three sax players and two trumpet players has given them the competence to tackle such things. Building upon this, the band has extended their reach and appeal through strategy. Booking Krewe du Vieux Ball and the Krewe of MadHatters parade this year meant setting a deadline on the EP. And seeking to present their recorded work closely to what crowds have come to love in their performances, they have arranged their track list much like their live shows.

    In my time interviewing, I have yet to meet a band member, studio head, or venue owner whose company I didn’t enjoy. And if you know me, that’s saying a lot! Gabe and Dalton were no exception. They seemed grateful for this opportunity, and willing to open their minds for my perusal. The idea that any one of my interview subjects could be, or already are, a global sensation is cast aside. And for that moment we are all just people with a common love for music. We discussed so much more in my time there; too much to cover here. But you can catch the podcast of this interview at https://neworleansmusicians.podbean.com/. And the interview will be disseminated in parts and ultimately as a whole on our Youtube Channel. My sincerest thanks go out to Dalton Stieffel and Gabe France for allowing me an intimate perspective of their lives and hard work. More from Pocket Chocolate can be found on our site, Neworleansmusicians.com and also https://pocketchocolatemusic.wixsite.com/pocketchocolatemusic.

    Author: David Trahan

    Neworleansmusicians.com

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    What a Waste – Demo Review

    Dave-vocals, Joe-guitar, Bobby-bass, Billy-drums

    So, I was on a freshman class field trip one time down to the Gulf Coast. A group of six of us were staying in a hotel overnight and attending a seminar the next morning. The chaperone was our basketball coach; a middle-aged flub whose appeal had waned where sarcasm had waxed. Out of boredom, I had taken to the hallways of this place, staring out the windows at the dimly lit sand wishing I could figure out a way to get some beer and a bit of freedom. It was late, and the parking lot was dark. But I was positive I had just watched our coach kiss some woman and then get into her car, inexplicably driving away in the night. I knew immediately that this was grounds for mayhem and the time was now. And I have said all that to say this… This memory is what came to mind while listening to the first track on this demo by What a Waste, “Nailed to Your Southern Cross”. The sticks count in and instantly you’re hit with a motivating bassline that says action. I like it already. Tip of the toes kids, the pit is a calling! “You won’t see me. I’ll see you”, is what it sounds like he said. And that’s what I’m thinking jumping in that pit. The song is quick; in and out in just over a minute. I do hope the final cut gives us a bit more of this gem.

    Moving on. Second track “So Far Away” finds Dave on the vocals with trail-offs at the ends of vocal bars leaving listeners with an almost melodic presence; almost. I like his style. It’s cool to scream your ass off. And maybe it’s the Southerner in me, but when the grit is mixed with a bit of butter, I like that. A quick two-and-a-half-minute track that, at a minute and twenty-eight seconds in goes through a change-up. And this change-up slowly builds in pace until they plop the original rhythm back in our laps. This is good stuff people! It’s like they’re milking the anxiety cow’s teats for all their worth. I’m spewing adrenaline.

    Next up is the title track “What a Waste”. And apparently some guy works every day and has either pissed off Dave, or Dave is telling us the over-worked guy is pissed. Whatever the case may be, the guitar gets a little funky in this one. I mean its punk, but with a little snazzle-razzle on it. Ok it’s just a sharp note followed consecutively by the two flat notes beneath it. But I like the way Joe twangs his thang.

    “Huffing Glue” is almost as short as the first track at only a minute thirty-seven and the final track on this demo. I think my laptop was huffing glue because it kept pausing, or buffering, whatever that means. Anyway, good ole Billy on drums counts us in and we blast off into a four-note mainstay broken up by a couple high notes that signify the chorus is here.

    All in all, they’re quick, they’re tight, and pay them their respect. This is a middle finger to your day, to my day; something to spruce up your morning coffee. And I needed it because I’m out of creamer and sugar. Whoever said “once you go black, you never go back”….. lied. But to the ex-members of A Hanging, The Pallbearers and AR-15 that gave me this lovely dose of audio intensity, I say thank you. And definitely, definitely follow up on this project with an expansion, both in catalog and song exploration. With that, I will hand over the reigns to Neworleansmusicians.com member and bassist for The Grooxs, Jorge Caicedo.

    Jorge: This is the demo debut of What A Waste from New Orleans. Four tunes of straight-ahead punk rock with the Black Flag and Circle Jerk influences coming through nicely. The rhythm section of bassist Bobby Bergeron and drummer Bill Baxley, both of whom were in the excellent A Hanging, keep the bottom end tight while the guitars and vocals do their thing.

    The tunes are more of a mid-tempo style as opposed to straight speed, although “Huffing Glue” is the exception. As per punk aesthetics, the songs are short, catchy and to the point. Catch these guys the next time they play a show, it’ll be well worth your time. You can get your cassette or digital download plus more perks using the Bandcamp link below.

    Authors: Lingo Starr and Jorge Caicedo

    Neworleansmusicians.com

    Here’s Bandcamp link: https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwhatawaste504.bandcamp.com%2F%3Ffbclid%3DIwAR1qHDi7-YcdCfHk36bybfH5CQa3x3AWBwmdQQ9bIC9tDl_Bu_RAu1r1mgk&h=AT3hVWNQln-Dn_3JCYOifCvsR-qr-I0n2oxEFM7s6r9pGu7IC2cra16EE_JQncM7l4ALvhV2V9lq4-MCePrwd1GsOXuMUyzcJIBx4YtqGzqOW8WV5-GERHByBSlHIBWu1Z2K-xDATc4vDYnw3WnC

    Here’s Spotify link: https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Falbum%2F0UsFCf4F2g9NubbriqBCi6%3Fsi%3Dtq3LWXCTRyieg-LvN7xpKA%26fbclid%3DIwAR0ulr3P8Zpwxz3e0zM5vCjDvGVQQZUMG2GIFDTQTqYilO1LV_vc4UrEvLY&h=AT3GFNMrxBPZJKMavFz13Gogfi_MPJkB3xB4qzY-aiNW20ZquVMwLvLDb7vhgfYHn1HkqKDWxmcsohiRlNIXPrgpPhvE40sCnNyHp1Z89hOcDqFZmYaHYR4RIhf_HvZTFcHxLxtyU8RkTyb3Qh4J&__tn__=H-R&c[0]=AT35_ULSKWdmLksrhwlj-VeIyQLsFNDME4LwNQVj3sIhCV2SvotBqP0iseJg0iyn2biCPcMp6pigdPTYmxqNLzQfoyWS0-8eTBmgJbozLrtkn7yrkyTZMac2RUo8dQ5hxDdxbwDcDlUAr2q6xOlfXXRxoQb8eR13uyhN4YChBpAAupZ90RsN5tI96nQezCUFnleQQy1vikbj

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    Fuel the Funeral Entertainment

    In Louisiana, thirty-seven miles from the Gulf of Mexico, lies the town of Cut Off, the place where Hunter Bruce was born and raised. At that time (and still to this day), it was the type of place with nothing to do. You could find Hunter with friends hanging out in the parking lots of Sonic or Wal-mart. And the music scene… well it didn’t exist there. Experience with music for him at that time was whatever played on the radio. Streaming could only be found on Pandora and music in his household wasn’t a focal point. It wasn’t until Hunter graduated high school and moved away that he got to actually see live music. His first experience was on a grand scale and it would change his life forever.

    On June 27th, 2016 the Warped Tour made its stop in New Orleans. And Hunter was one of the thousands in attendance. With most of his friends off to the military, he went to this event alone, and would spend most of that day at the smaller Full Sail University Stage. He affectionately recalls, “I saw Bad Seed Rising, incredible. I wish they would’ve never broken up. I saw Palaye Royal. No one knew who these guys were. There was like twenty people standing in front of that stage with me. Now these guys are touring the world and that’s so awesome to see.” He was later spotted and stopped by the guitarist for Palaye Royal, who signed and gave him a CD, thanking him for coming to their performance. He still has that CD to this day. And he’s kept a record of all the bands he’s seen over the years. Later that same year Islander, whom he was unfamiliar with, would headline at The Varsity Theater in Baton Rouge. He remembered Bad Seed Rising from the Warped Tour, and they were on the bill along with local supporting band Ventruss. That night, he became a fan of Ventruss and would see them countless times in the future. “The guys from Ventruss came, ‘aw dude thank you so much for being here’, you know, shook my hand. ‘Oh man we really appreciate it.’ And whenever that kind of stuff happens, you start realizing; man, this is really a tight knit community. You know, it feels genuine. They’re not just trying to sell me a CD or something. They actually appreciate you being here. That’s a really cool feeling.”

    I can’t help but draw attention to the idea that, just like Hunter came away with a good feeling from his interaction with the band, the bands exist in that moment on stage drawing their feeling from the crowd. When the energy and excitement is projected from those in attendance, they witness a better performance. For many, these shows also become a new source of friendships. Regular attendees recognize one another from previous shows and began to strike up conversations among one another. And speaking from personal experience, I can say that a band grows in their appeal once you have some sort of personal vestment in them. Gaining friends with mutual interests, meeting members of the band that just blew you away on stage, and perhaps coming away from a show with a memento of some sort all make people feel connected and a part of something greater and more relative. These experiences also help to quell the overwhelming nature of today’s uber-convenient paths to new music. We have the world at our fingertips when it comes to new music. But there’s just so many options that make all too easy to get lost. Indie bands in Louisiana, for instance, often times get drowned out by all the other music with which they have to contend globally. Neworleansmusicians.com has focused on the niche of Louisiana bands, in part, for that reason. Bands who join our site intermingle pools of fans, helping to lift one another up. Likewise, when a booking agent does their job well, you can show up because you recognize one of the bands on the bill, and walk away gaining interest in new ones. In his present-day capacity as an entertainment company owner, Hunter recognizes and has been able to lend his services to bands in the Gulf Coast region, an area that he paused to recognize in this interview as rich with new talent. This is a pleasant surprise, given the havoc that Covid wreaked on the live music community as a whole.

    “There was a lot of bands that broke up, which is unfortunate. There’s a lot of bands that took that time and said, well we can’t perform right now. But we can write. We can go to the studio. We can record. We can really spend this time honing our craft and come out swinging. And I think once the lockdown stopped and people came back, you could really see who spent those two years just kind of sitting around waiting, and who spent those two years still diligently trying to hone their craft.” As anyone can tell by now, Hunter remained an attentive understudy of the local music scene throughout. From his break out from Cut Off, to a stint in Houma, to finally settling in Folsom, Louisiana, that list of bands he’d seen grew to over 300. And all of these places were and still are rather obscure when it comes to hotbeds of music activity. He was constantly driving out to see these bands play. So, when a new venue, the Hideaway Den & Arcade opened up near him in Folsom, he was elated to attend their first rock show. Pious, Thornprick, and Dead Machine Theory were on the bill. The venue was pleased with the turnout and Hunter, well he saw opportunity. He approached the owner about booking another rock show and they accepted. On the bill was Acala from Covington, 4Mag Nitrous out of Baton Rouge, and Dead Savage from Hammond. The three fit well and, barring the fact that he accidently booked it on his wedding anniversary, the show was a success. “From that show, we’ve expanded so much. We built out the stage. We brought in an in-house sound tech with a full sound rig. They’re looking to do more and more. Whenever they first opened up, they were like man, we want to be the Southport Hall of the north shore in the sense that we want to offer a wide array of entertainment.” In the past, many places in the north shore area have been accustomed to the safety of cover bands. Every so often a local act performs. But Hunter hopes to see more original talent performing in the area. And he hopes The Hideaway, where he has become the main talent buyer, sets the standard. His intention is to strategically mix local bands with regional, national, more widely recognized names. Shortly after approaching and booking his first show at The Hideaway, Hunter approached about twenty venues between Slidell and Hammond with the interest of booking shows. “I went to these places. You know, here’s my business card. I understand you don’t know me from Adam. But, you know, give me a chance. Let’s see what we can do. Everywhere turned their nose at me; slammed the door in my face. They didn’t want to work with me. I get it, you know. You don’t know who I am and a lot of these places, they have their in-house people already. But after that, I’m like alright I guess I’m all in on this place (The Hideaway). And I’ve been all in with them ever since. And I don’t regret it man, I never looked back. And I think now if one of these places that originally turned their nose to me came back and said, oh man we’ve been seeing what you’re doing for this place, maybe we can do something, I’d probably tell them no. They take really good care of me here. I’m all in over here.”

    Reflecting on his start, Hunter couldn’t remember the last time he did something that brought him so much joy. From booking the bands, to doing the fliers, to the online promotion, he fell in love. He became a true believer in the old adage “Choose a job you love, and you will never have to work a day in your life.” So, unbeknownst to most, during his days booking, he spent four months registering, recruiting, and building his own roster. By its proper name, Fuel the Funeral Entertainment is now a booking agency with a list of developmental and promotional services, some of which include EPK one sheets, public relations, advertising, and website creation. Through dedication and diligence, Hunter hopes to bring to these bands what they have brought to him, loyalty. “There’s a lot of nights where you’re working until two or three in the morning.  behind the computer making sure that it’s done the right way. I don’t want to approach these bands and say hey, let me give you booking representation if I don’t know what I’m doing, you know? There’re enough thieves out there. I don’t want to be another one of them. And that’s what really lead me to starting this venture.” Before he began the process of forming this LLC, before he even had the idea, he was hired by an up-and-coming artist management firm that wanted to expand into booking. Though initially excited about the opportunity, upon working for the firm he began to notice business practices that he would only describe as a little less than reputable. “We’re taking these bands’ money and we’re not doing much for them. How are we justifying this? I just took a big step back and I’m like, I don’t want to do this. This feels wrong.” And just as one experience inspired him to book for The Hideaway, his experience with this company prompted him to forge his own path.

    Since its inception, Fuel the Funeral Entertainment has been focused on transparency. The contracts come with personal advice from Hunter himself advising recipients to bring the documents to an entertainment lawyer. And I wouldn’t be surprised if honesty is the best bait out there these days. He’s been in discussions with bands that he’s had to turn away. Though he has confidence in his future ability to become more adept at the art, if what they’re seeking is outside of his level of current experience, he’s not above informing them. During our discussion, he stressed the importance of knowing one’s limitations and not embellishing upon them. This, coupled with his humility and true appreciation for what bands bring left a lasting impression that tells me his candor in business will take him far. You can view their list of services and submit works for review on the contact form at Fuelthefuneralentertainment.com.  

    Author: David Trahan

    Neworleansmusicians.com

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    Elevation

    Registration

    Start by creating a profile on Neworleansmusicians.com. Be sure to fill in all the blanks and upload a song. With your registration, you can message other bands and businesses in the industry. You can also list on the show calendar and music classifieds. And any tracks you have on the 12 streaming platforms we are a member of will be added to our public playlists on those platforms. Your music presence online has just doubled!

    Short Questionnaire

    Because you uploaded at least one track, you are e-mailed a questionnaire. This contains questions about your band’s style, inspiration, and history. Once this is returned, you will be featured in our podcast. Instead of commercials half-way through every episode, we shout out our members. We draw our discussion from your questionnaire answers, and then play an example of your work for the audience to hear.

    Upload a video

    Once you are a member, you are able to upload videos. This would preferably be footage related to your band, and you do this from your profile. Your video is displayed on your profile, as well as our Videos page. And it will appear on our Youtube Channel as well. We will also began promoting your video on social media. You’re one of the family now. We’ve got you!

    Inquire about an interview

    Contact us via e-mail, social, or by phone and inquire about being interviewed. After we verify that you have a complete account with us, we confirm your eligibility and place you in the interview pool. We choose all our interviews from this group, making sure to cover every genre. Our interviews result in several Youtube videos, an article on our blog, and a podcast episode on our show.

    Becoming a member of NOM means many things….

    In becoming a member of our growing network of Louisiana musicians, you gain many advantages. This site is not like facebook and other social media sites. It exists strictly for networking purposes. We are onboarding Louisiana bands currently, and will move on to filling Vendor directories soon. These will include venues, sound & light companies, recording studios, and the like from all over the world. Our goal is to empower Louisiana’s talent with tools while remaining exclusive to bands from our state. This is why we only accept bands from Louisiana. Members can message other bands or vendors directly within the site at any time. I created this site and personally keep in touch with its members. Promotional material that our members create is shared constantly on our social. You will begin to see your show announcements shared by us. Promotional material that we create for our interviewees is shared repeatedly on social for months. Any leads on gigs that we generate are sent to members first. We have assisted in filling spots at venues, in movies, and on podcasts. Members’ song plays are tracked through our site and those with the most plays earn placement as Artist of the Month. There are three chosen per month. Those bands are given a spot at the top of our home page with a graphic and link. I look forward to getting to know your band and fulfilling your needs. And remember, I will NEVER ask you for money. I have created a line of merchandise and an account at BuyMeaCoffee to help support my efforts. With enough eyes and ears, I also hope to generate money from Youtube and podcast ads. Any money generated from this site goes right back into it, back into supporting Louisiana’s independent artists.

    Register today

    Author: David Trahan

    Neworleansmusicians.com

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