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Okay, Boomhauer

One of three children, Conner Graham was born St. Amant in Ascension Parish, Louisiana. Where, according to him, disco and Swamp Pop never died. “At our middle school dances, they were playing Wilson Pickett. Yeah, they might do the Bunny Hop. They might have cranked some DMX in 2002. But then the very next song was Land of a Thousand Dances. It was very strange looking back. But we didn’t know it was weird at the time” His start as a musician began at just five years old on the piano. Before long though, he was turned off by it because of the urgings from his music teacher. She wanted him to play Beauty and the Beast. But he wanted to play Dr. John and Elton John. According to Conner, she took one look at material from Elton John and saw the title Jesus Freaks Out in the Streets and instantly objected. She countered with Be Our Guest from Beauty and the Beast. And so began a path away from the keys. His familiarity at an early age with his preferred genre came by way of his mother. She was a radio DJ in the 70’s for 102.5 WFMF, “Baton Rouge’s #1 Hit Music Station”. Her record collection at home was both a testament to her tastes in music and a big influence on Conner’s early musical experiences. It’s how he knew of bands like the Beatles, Crosby, Stills & Nash, Jonathan Edwards, and the Eagles.

He would move onto trumpet, eventually playing in band at school. During this time, another one of his hobbies was playing Guitar Hero with friends. He actually became quite good at it and recalls watching an episode of South Park. Where, in reference to the game, Stan’s mom declared, “If they would spend half as much time learning a real instrument, they would be onto something!” He thought to himself, is that true? He knew his mom had an old guitar sitting in a closet somewhere. So, in the summer before his senior year, he asked her if he could start lessons. During his senior year of high school, his mother took him to his first Jazz Fest. She wanted to see folk artist James Taylor, and he wanted to see the alt-rock band Wilco. But halfway through Wilco’s set, he wandered off and was drawn to blues-rock artist Johnny Winters. People sometimes speak of the timeless quality music had in the 70’s. And even though Conner was born in ’91, that 70’s sound had him hooked. To his liking, there was not a lot of synthesizers, and that gated reverb snare hadn’t taken over yet, nor had auto tune. Rounding out his tastes was the influence from his older brother, who was into Pearl Jam, the Foo Fighters, Nirvana, and other 90’s grunge. Through his older brother, Conner was also able to witness the camaraderie that came with being in a band. Because his brother was in a band and would have the same close-knit group of friends over all the time. He wanted that for himself. So, between regular lessons and persistent after school practicing, he stuck close to playing guitar. Eventually he would form his own band; or try to, at least. Conner and three of his friends would assemble in his garage for practice. But this was short lived. Directly following graduation in 2009, two of his friends shipped off to the armed forces and one of them moved away. Conner himself would move on to college at LSU and join the Tiger Band playing trumpet. While this may have kept Conner in touch with music, it was always a highly regimented and scheduled out event. Playing trumpet in a school band, he felt boxed in. But with guitar, he was able truly be creative. And this is what fed his soul. He did try out for a couple of bands during his time in college. Being that he enjoyed karaoke, he tried out for a pop-punk band that needed a singer. And another was a bizarre reggae rap-metal band that needed a trumpet player. Though he felt himself veering away from the trumpet somewhat, it was the only one of the two bands that called back. But he stuck with the reggae band for a while. He also took gigs on the side, all with his trumpet. And all the while his affinity for guitar grew more and more.

At the end of 2014, Conner would be reunited with high school friends for a bonfire. As luck would have it all three had moved back into town. It wouldn’t take long for the four of them to put the band back together. And in just four months they had written ten songs, calling themselves Bayou Bullets. Over the next four years the group would see changes in their line-up, a five song EP studio recorded album by the name of Five in the Chamber, and the addition of a singer, Jovin Webb. Which allowed Conner to focus on playing. But the group had yet to find its true identity. Conner recalls, “If you listen to the album, it sounds like three very different bands playing five different songs.” Pop-punk, blues, 70’s folk acoustic, and rock had somehow all found a way into their initial attempt. Though Conner’s preference leaned somewhat toward pop punk, an affinity reignited by his 2018 Warped Tour attendance, the future for this band would be shaped, in part, by two factors. One of the previous changes in the line-up was the addition of a guitarist that was heavy into 80’s metal. And their new singer, Jovin, had a voice that dwelled in that soulful grit. The territory where these factors would intersect, and where the band would ultimately settle, would be in 70’s blues rock. The coming years would be spent exploring this identity on stage and culminating in their sophomore effort titled New Lie. Parts of 2019 and 2020 were spent trying to get this album down, as it was fraught with its fair share of hurdles. Jovin had been picked up by American Idol that year. And his efforts would land him in the top ten on that show. But a seeming positive would often present itself as a negative when it came to scheduling time for the band’s album. A song he had written, After the Rain, was one that left a hole Conner kept scrambling to fill. And the fact that it was written as a duet didn’t help things. At one time Chloe from Alabaster Stack was supposed to accompany Jovin on the song. After that fell through, Maria from Riarosa was slated to fill the spot and had to cancel. Also, Covid had reared its ugly head which brought production at the studio to a halt. Suddenly, Conner found himself at a low point in his life. The album release would eventually see the light of day. But for now, it was botched. Depression was setting in and writer’s block was beginning to take hold.

Fortunately, Conner had the presence of mind at the time to seek outside help from a therapist. In these sessions it was revealed to him that the pressures of coordinating practices and gigs, and fighting to get this album out had placed him in a position where his creative outlet had become a job. The solution was to start another project where “making it” was not the goal, effectively freeing him from the constricts of all those elements that muddy the waters of inspiration. In this new project he would not even play an instrument. He would front this band as its singer, it would be a cover band in his preferred vein of pop-punk, and their name would be Okay, Boomhauer. Though Covid would wreak havoc on this band’s ability to practice and function, he was still able to reclaim a broken block from his previous project, Bayou Bullets. Reexamining that material through the alternative lens of his new band’s genre, a song stood out to him. It spoke to him in the form of an emo ballad. He felt so strongly about this that he would eventually record it as such. Five songs would accompany it on an album that was to be his solution to the isolation and stagnation that Covid instilled in us all. Paired with just an audio engineer, Conner wrote and recorded an album under the name Okay, Boomhauer. Progress was finally being made. As for Bayou Bullets, a pivot in their business model would be the answer to the pandemic. They realized that if they steered clear of major cities they could circumvent restrictions in place at the time. Together they hit every honky-tonk and dive bar along the gulf south. Being that their mainstay was in covers this was an easy sell, and a lucrative one to boot.

Finally, Conner felt as though he had some breathing room. Bayou Bullets was gigging consistently, restrictions began to ease, and Okay, Boomhauer began to practice. Conner let them hear what he recorded and the band really took a liking to the material. The revelation would expand the band into originals and would accompany a catalog of about thirty cover songs. Then one night while performing with Bayou Bullets in the college town of Starkville, MS, he contracted Covid. And it nearly killed him. “It was literally weeks and months of rehab to get back to the point that I could perform or anything like that. Heck, it took three weeks before I was able to walk more than a block down the street. But in that time of working through all that, we also had that hurricane (Ida) that hit in August. And that wiped the calendar for Bayou Bullets away. Which provided the opening for a couple of the members who had been waffling on leaving or not to decide, you know what, it’s not going to be putting them out if I leave now.” Conner’s health would eventually be restored. And his focus would then shift to Okay, Boomhauer.

This new endeavor has found Conner and his band scheduled to perform from Dallas to Mobile. He has already written an entire album for the band to record in between shows and is currently writing the following album. They are going into the studio to release a single this spring, with another to follow toward the end of this year. It’s been a cathartic experience for him. He’s proud of how his own EP turned out ultimately being played by Okay, Boomhauer. Seeing results, his vision is no longer obscured by the familiar doldrums of years prior. He’s started investing time and money in an editing process that will enhance the band’s following on social media. And he is able to delve into the mechanics of a far-reaching band without feeling bogged down. “I have targeted a list of cities that are all between eight and twelve hours away from here to start building that network of cities that we can we can tour to, to get to the cities that really give a shit about this music.” In due time, after some replacement recruiting, his other project Bayou Bullets will reemerge redubbed as The Black Smokes. We talked more in depth about his journey throughout. And we went on to examine the findings of research he has put into elevating Okay, Boomhauer to the next level. You can hear all of it on our recent podcast episode titled by the band’s name. Thanks so much for reading and remember, support for these musicians and this site comes as easily as sharing our work.

Author: David Trahan

For 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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Tamarie T and Thee Elektra Kumpany

                First and foremost, I love the energy Tamarie brings to this interview. There are moments of bare sincerity which speak to me meaningfully as a fellow musician and bandleader and I wanted to share my thoughts. I was unable to check out the show on Frenchmen he recently hosted, but I hear it was out of sight. Please consider listening to the full interview on the Neworleansmusicians.com Podcast. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy. Here is a brief bio summary of Tamarie for anyone who missed the podcast.

                Tamarie T is an artist born in Inglewood, Chicago who has recently moved to New Orleans to continue his artistic career and bring his signature funk vibrations into the musical melting pot of the city.  Continuing in the tradition of early funkateers, Tamarie performs with a full ensemble complete with rhythm section, horns, vocalists and even dancers. His early career, which included covering the music of powerhouse artists such as Prince, eventually led to a role as a booking manager at Chicago’s Underground Wonder Bar. During these early years, he was able to establish a network of musicians (both peers and mentors), as well as begin to develop what would become a signature musical styling and dynamic stage presence. Tamarie calls his music “Exotic Funk”.  Let’s dig in.

                What is exotic funk? On an immediately relatable level to many musicians, exotic funk is the opposite of “everything”. Tamarie details a discussion wherein he was cautioned against saying the band plays everything. Personally, I have received similar advice from many of my mentors over the years. I have been a bandleader for over fifteen years, and I have changed styles and tastes in various ways. As the years go by, material from previous phases begins to accumulate and decisions must be made about the direction of the group musically and from a marketing perspective. Many artists find themselves in between established “genres” and must choose the lesser of two evils when deciding how to file paperwork on streaming platforms, etc. I tip my hat to Tamarie for putting boots to the pavement and taking on long-form interviews like this in order to be clear and descriptive.

                Tamarie paved his own way toward expression. He describes his career ascent from self-promoting on Craigslist as a “frontman extraoridinaire” to developing his musical and industry chops by reaffirming his constant desire to find his own sound. Tamarie speaks about “assuming the roles of our elders” as he describes the foundation and reformations of his ensemble. Again, I would encourage anyone reading this to give a listen to the full interview, especially if you yourself are at a transitional point in your career where you are looking to expand beyond covering other people’s tunes. I personally continue to perform occasionally with cover groups, but when I perform solo or with my band, I choose to do exclusively original music. This is a transition I was only personally willing to commit to after the pandemic, but this portion of the interview was especially compelling for me as a listener.

                Venturing into a personal aside, I also found it relatable when Tamarie spoke about various elements of sacrifice that are sometimes required to be a musician. And doubly so if you choose to forge your own path. As with most things in life, the factors at play will not be identical between any two people on this planet when it comes to major decision making. This topic, that is- the sacrifices musicians make to purse the lifestyle which suits them, could be the subject of a novel on its own. For the time being I intend to leave the subject alone, but perhaps will write a separate opinion piece to take a closer look at the matter in general.

                For now, let’s talk about New Orleans. It is a visceral city in which to be a musician and there is enough excitement generated per day to power a small-town power grid. For many, the first performances in the city are absolutely electrifying and can generate enough mental momentum to make you feel like you can conquer the world. This certainly seems to be the case with Tamarie, and I hope to see his career continue to grow during his time in the city. There are likely enough articles out about the potential roadblocks and the pitfalls which lay about, so let’s instead take a tangent.

Tamarie mentions the lack of response by various venues to his email requests to schedule a performance date, which is something I believe most musicians can empathize with in one way or another. There are, of course, some band leaders (the names change, the game doesn’t) who will prey on new-to-town musicians and there are always suspicions that venues may not be paying what is owed. But beyond the surface-level (and unsolicited) cautionary tales any local musician could share, and to avoid potential slander, I would like to use this article to encourage Tamarie and others to continue pushing for opportunities to perform (for money) their original music.

He describes his first performance in the city with local musician Sierra Green. I have personally had the pleasure of working with Sierra Green numerous times and I am vicariously thrilled for Tamarie to be introduced to such a business-minded (and bullshit-avoidant), charismatic and knowledgeable veteran of the scene. Anyone who has heard Sierra knows she possesses an incredible voice and a powerful stage presence. Certainly, a potentially exciting pairing for as vibrant of an artist as Tamarie. He also mentions trombonist and band member Maurice Cade, another New Orleans transplant born in Chicago. Maurice, in addition to performing with Tamarie and Sierra, is the trombonist in my horn section, The KB Horns. Maurice’s playing was recently featured at the Blues Music Awards in Memphis where The KB Horns accompanied blues guitarist Kenny Neal. All that to say, I believe Tamarie has found himself in exemplary company when it comes to fabulous musicians with earnest intention.  

Returning to the interview, Tamarie makes an aside about “assuming the roles of our mentors” which I found quite compelling. As the years pass, we do inevitably find ourselves in a position wherein we must take the mantle from whoever paved the way for us. Although we may never get an opportunity to inherit a legacy show or even meet our musical icons, I believe Tamarie is right in pointing out that we must appreciate the mentors who shaped our early years and we must express that gratitude to them in whatever way we can. Tamarie talks about the eventual reformations of his ensemble which led to staffing decisions that excluded long-time band members. He spends some time on this point, elaborating on the delicacy of the situation and the process by which bands transition to new membership while still showing respect for the members who are not chosen to represent the current trajectory. Having been a bandleader for over a decade, I relate to this deeply because sometimes the decisions can be absolutely gut-wrenching. It takes a certain type of person to balance the role of a business manager and that of the artist. Music is very often emotionally involved work, and I appreciate that Tamarie took the time in the interview to speak on the necessity of being considerate to those who must be let go in a transition. Life is hard enough; we must be nice to each other.

Coming to a final quote, Tamarie speaks about an interaction with Sierra Green where he was told to “not be humble”. Now we are playing with fire, and I love it! There is always a necessity for respect and decorum, relative of course to the situation, but there is a sound truth in the sentiment that the meek will not inherit the stage in New Orleans. I think there is a sound logic within this idea, and I want to point out again that this interview in its entirety goes into great detail about this point (I don’t want to see anyone taking this out of context). I personally relate to and agree with the sentiment, and I believe it goes without saying that in the context of all other topics discussed in the interview Tamarie shows a consistent empathy and compassion for his core band as well as temporary hires. Disclaimers aside, holy shit what a good thing this is to hear early on in your New Orleans journey.

This is a fiercely competitive gig market, with a lot of room for sidemen and fill-ins. But there are only so many stages and so many tourists to entertain on a given day. Until the point in your career where you are selling tickets with your name on them to pay your bills, being a bandleader in a tip-driven economy is no small undertaking. Recruiting band members who will make themselves available to you to take a chance on original music in a cover-dominated environment can be tricky, and Tamarie points out that even once you clear that hurdle the musicians will likely be involved in several other projects simultaneously. Scheduling rehearsal can be a nightmare, and commitments can often be quickly severed when the prospect of higher-paying work is introduced. It is not an easy task, and can be complicated even still by the lack of response by bigger name venues. Speaking from experience, it can be exhausting.

I encourage Tamarie, and anyone else looking to present their original music, to pursue this goal to the fullest extent possible. Tamarie, you are in good company (Kumpany?) and I wish you nothing but success. Don’t let the bullshit wear you down, and do what you can to stay true to your vision. I don’t believe there is any dishonor in taking pickup cover work if it helps keep things moving, and there are lots of places beyond tourist-populated clubs to perform. Big crowds are nice, but it’s hard to retain people’s attention and even harder to make fans who seek you out independently. I wish you success, and I am looking forward to meeting you out on the scene!

I’ll say this, nobody is going to see you as anything but yourself in New Orleans as long as you put it out there. Shine on!

Author: Kasey Ball

For: Neworleansmusicians.com

About the author:

Kasey Ball is a Louisiana born composer/arranger, multi-instrumentalist and producer. He is a 15-year veteran of the Louisiana music scene and bandleader of KB & the Backbeat.

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Pocket Chocolate

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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Music Journalist Search

Top o’ the morning to the powers that be, as well as the common folk. I, Lingo Starr, have been tasked with finding an “additional” journalist for Neworleansmusicians.com. And I use quotes because, as I am told, this is not my replacement. “Lingo, we’re not looking to replace you. We just think that David (the owner) is writing more articles than need be at the moment. And we think you could use a hand with expediting finished works.” This, as per second in command. So, without further ado, and in good faith, the facts are as follows. Neworleansmusicians.com is searching for a journalist interested in covering the music scene in Louisiana. Specifically, we need someone to both draw from material we give you, as well as from your own findings (research, interactions, and otherwise). If you would like to establish a catalog of published works and get involved with a website that supports Louisiana musicians, contact me at lingo_starr@yahoo.com. I’m going to go through applicants myself. Please send example(s) of your work, and feel free to include any questions. We do perform within deadlines here, so expect that. We do not, however, (thank God) report to an office, so that’s a perk. You can check out examples of NOM’s subject matter here https://neworleansmusicians.com/blog/. I look forward to hearing from, and working with, all of you!

Author: Lingo Starr

Neworleansmusicians.com

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Matt Rhombus of Totem

For Matt, the Big Bang occurred at the age of eight when he encountered a family member’s extensive music collection. From this single point in time, his melodic universe began with cosmic bodies like Korn, System of a Down, Slipknot, Weezer, and Alice in Chains. Ever expanding, his exploration has landed him in a galaxy filled with sludge, punk, and rock-and-roll. Bass-heavy grooves have charted his path on this journey and, over time, have become the dominant, more prevalent point of recognition for his vessel of worship known as Totem. While music itself was always at the core of his attraction, camaraderie surely enhanced his gravitation. Like many of us that play, we are inexplicably drawn to an instrument at an early age. And suddenly, the arduous task of finding ourselves as human beings is compounded with finding a sense of musical identity. For those of you that don’t play an instrument, I would liken finding one’s musical identity to getting your first apartment. You don’t have much to do it with. Still, you gather everything you have that you think you will need, and some of what expresses who you are, to establish yourself in this “new” life. Only you’re not sure exactly where you want to live, what you want it to look like, or what you can afford. I have always admired true musicians because not only do they face this head-on at a time in life when they are still unsure of themselves. But they do it out in the open, in front of everyone. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the court of public opinion can be bitter.

Unbeknownst to Matt, he was mentally preparing himself for this quest just two years after honestly encountering music for the first time. He found himself doodling band names on his binders while in class. And at thirteen, to some degree, it had manifested itself physically. His hair was spiked and his jeans had chains hanging from them. Soon his friends would be discussing the idea of starting their own band. He knew several guitar players and a drummer. So, he settled upon bass as his contribution to the endeavor. “I think it was like, a Crescent or something. I remember cracking that thing open on Christmas Eve. And it was just a little beginner bass. But man, I wore that thing out.” At that time, Matt knew the cost of a bass guitar. While he gave it a shot, he was almost sure he wouldn’t be lucky enough to get one. But in due time, he would come to know the value. And while he did dabble in rhythm guitar and drums over the years, he always stuck by his bass. Looking back, he affirms the experimentations became useful tools within his narrative. Because of them, if need be, he can pick up or sit behind either and play.

“Getting better at bass… I think that I actually haven’t progressed, like technically speaking, at playing bass. Like, I don’t think I’m an amazing bass player by any means. But I use the bass as kind of a tool to help me write songs. That’s been the struggle of my past ten years, trying to find my place in the New Orleans music scene in general. Being in one band, being in another band, I’ve decided that I’m not going to put my talent up to somebody else anymore. I’m going to spearhead everything. And that’s why our band right now, Totem, is very bass-heavy and very bass-driven.” Modesty would definitely be Matt’s namesake. And his tendency to cite things like tremolos from Steve Harris and other technical players in the field has perhaps contributed to this mental conflict within him. But his niche and true appreciation for the craft lies within getting into a groove and holding things down to propel the song. Pitting one musician’s take on things against another is misleading. But inside the minds of many musicians, this is sometimes an eternal conflict. Doubting one’s self is by its very nature, misleading. And there came a point in time where this combined with being kicked out of a band had Matt stuffing his gear into a closet and shutting the door. He credits his long-time friend and drummer, Gage Breaux, with forcing him to leave the questions behind and return to the things he loved about the art. Their bond and Matt’s second coming further cemented Totem in the rhythmic, bass-lavish landscape that has become their signature sound.

Sparking an alternate creative direction in Totem with a new guitarist, Max Bonnet, has aided Matt in dusting off the difficulties within him. And intentionally not sticking to one particular genre keeps things fresh. As he pointed out, Boris, The Melvins, and Neurosis have always been bands that inspired him in this vein. Max brings with him a penchant for the shoegaze genre. Which should bring about a balancing effect when paired with Totem’s already established driving bass and drum elements. “Max is like refined energy. And he knows how to put the right dynamics on certain strums and he has more technique. He’s got something going on with him. He’s got this shoegaze background. I don’t know, he was obsessed with shoegaze for a while. He’s got some pretty shit that is really going to help us open up a new door to the psyche-rock domain.” In the past, Totem has been a trio where the bass basically commandeered the responsibility normally taken up by the rhythm guitar; keeping pace in the groove and moving things along a plane. Their drummer, Gage, would reinforce this, adding highlights and directing the change-ups. In the future, much of that will remain the same. But this recent addition will accentuate those priorities while also pulling the direction into question. Totem’s recent EP, For What It’s Worth, can be found on Spotify, Apple Music, and Bandcamp. And it will come to be a pivotal sonic example from the band. Because moving forward, a unique dimension via Max Bonnet will emerge. The newly minted trio is in the midst of writing several songs to add to their EP in preparation for their upcoming album. And in true Totem spirit, it will be exploratory, possessing artifacts of both prior artistic endeavors and future direction.

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MJ Dardar

Eleven miles from the head of passes on the Mississippi River, Michael Dardar grew up in the small fishing community of Venice, Louisiana with one older sister always by his side. In his house could be heard a wide variety of sounds, as his mother was a Barbara Striesand and Frank Sanatra fan, while his father loved listening to The Eagles, The Allman Brothers, Boston, and Foghat. His first live musical experiences came from the local church, where his mother was a leader in the church choir. Gazing across such contrasting soundscapes, he would ultimately gravitate toward his father’s tastes. And around fifteen or sixteen years of age, he began to experiment with the idea of writing and making music along with a childhood friend. “You know the Fischer Price microphone things? We would go in there; we’d put these little cassette tapes in there and we’d put the scotch tape on top of them. And we would basically tape songs on a different stereo, whether it would be a Beatles tape or something like that. And we would overdub our own lyrics and melodies on top of the tapes.” Looking back, he laughs at the thought of his father popping in one of his favorite tapes only to find his own voice beaming from the speakers. Years of this would eventually culminate in his first album, Rust, recorded in April on 2021.

From his days of experimenting with recordings of his own, the allure of one day making the transition into live performances seeded deep within him. And it never left. And although he rounded up a talented bunch of musicians to pull off the album, his only experience performing it came as an acoustic set with friend and co-writer, Jerry Martin. The two would eventually translate the work into an all-inclusive performance, implementing more band members and instrumental elements to his act. Gradually, guys like Mark Kryvanick and Tim Belanger would join them on bass and drums respectively. And he would implement a rotating roster of guys like Tillis Verdin, Brett Guillory, Teddy Baudoin, and Travis Thibodeaux on keys. Larger shows would even see a horn section taking to the stage. Adding the horns to his live performances, MJ feels, really resonated with himself as well as the crowd. “Adding that horn section is kind of the big one. The last time we did it was an album release party which was early May, May 6th I believe. And every song on our last album had full horn sections. And so, to be able to perform them that way, with the actual horn lines as opposed to transposing keyboard parts and things like that… it’s so much better and is really able to translate what we recorded into the live performance.” These elements were a refreshing change from the previous acoustic performances which had eventually become stale in his eyes. As Jerry Martin points out, “There’s nights, as an acoustic gig, where you’re struggling to hear yourself (above the crowd).”

With Houma and Lafayette being mainstays for the MJ Dardar band, the Tasting Room and Howlin’ Wolf in New Orleans have also played host. But Houma has always marked home base for MJ. Enlisting a full-time manager and maintaining a strong online presence has enabled him to broaden his reach, which he hopes will eventually lead to a venture outside of normal boundaries. Finding value in this, MJ has been sure to engage with fans and followers in the thousands across multiple platforms. I, for one, have enjoyed the personal aspect in videos where he sits down in front the camera, playing acoustic guitar and singing. This ability to connect with his audience was instrumental during the height of Covid back in April of 2020. Along with Jerry Martin and other band mates, he committed to remotely filming forty-one full request, multi-track videos in thirty days. It was through this personal challenge and the resulting encouragement of online audiences that the genesis of the Rust record took hold.

At their core, the songs on Rust feel good. The rhythm guitar strums, tambourines, and shakers keep you in the groove while story lines originate from the heart. And bringing in that brass section gives it a feint departure from your typical country sound. Hammond and reed organ contributions back MJ’s soulful vocals nicely. And he’s got just enough grit in his voice, like the perfect mix of sweet and savory. Track “Leaver” pulls us away from this rural soundscape completely, delivering a surprising R&B plunge. Softer rhodes and sustained piano take the edge off as MJ sings about the value of his family as a child. The overall quality of these recordings is unquestionable. And this is important to point out because it doesn’t take much to pull a listener outside of an enveloping experience due to a distractive distortion or overwhelming level. It’s a delicate balance that MJ and the band maintain very well. And their ability to cross over from country to R&B seems completely natural.

MJ recorded his debut album at Audiosmith Studio in Prairieville, Louisiana under the guidance of owner Robbie Smith, a long-time friend and associate of his band mate Jerry Martin. As luck would have it, this would give way to a host of opportunities for him. Not long after completing his album, Robbie would go on to help form Redstick Records, a label out of Baton Rouge, Louisiana. And he asked if MJ would be interested in signing a recording contract with the label. Travis Thibodeaux, whom I mentioned earlier, would also do work for the studio on keys. Bringing his experience as the keyboard player and vocalist for Journey, and writing credits for “Take My Hand” recorded by Grammy winner Wayne Toups, Travis would prove a valuable asset. Through Redstick Records, MJ would have the pleasure of working with Brignac Lane Studios in Saint Amant, Louisiana while still reaping the benefits of Robbie’s production skills. He would also go onto be featured in several works by Jambon and Company, a band that had also recorded at Audiosmith Studio. Taylor Nauta, another artist on the Redstick roster, recorded guitar on MJ’s upcoming record “Caught Up In The Middle Of The Rain”. And Deanna Scott, MJ’s manager, would be taken on as Artist Management at Redstick Records. Being within this circle of musicians, recording studios, and labels has enabled MJ to implement things like strings into his work. The extension has also accommodated him in his quest to expand across country, blues, R&B, and pop genres. And being in the room with some of his personal heroes while soaking in the camaraderie and confidence of others has really inspired him to push the envelope.

With album number two, “The Reason Why”, nearly complete. And his third album taking shape, MJ am Jerry still intend to release stripped down, acoustic versions in the midst. The impact of growth through their journey, first with Robbie Smith of Audiosmith Studio, then Redstick Records and manager Deanna Scott continues to propel the two forward. Over 100 shows this past year and so much time logged in the studio is proof positive of their drive. I couldn’t be more delighted to have the privilege of sitting down with MJ and his team, and discussing how things took shape as well as where the band hopes to find themselves in the future. Below you will find relevant links to the players mentioned in this article. The full interview can be found on our podcast where MJ, Jerry, and myself go on to discuss navigating festivals and venues, chord structures and story lines of previous albums versus upcoming ones, and much more. Special thanks goes out to Kevin Sevin in Houma, Louisiana for the use of his beautiful home during the filming of this interview, which you will soon be able to see on our youtube channel by subscribing today.

https://mjdardarmusic.com

https://www.audiosmithstudio.com

https://redstickrecords.com

Author: David Trahan

Neworleansmusicians.com

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The Indelible Robert Snow

Childhood memories are of such a profound permanence. Not only are they the antecedents of our future existence. But they play an integral part in shaping who we become in this world. Whether it be parallel of or contrary to, those closest to us in the beginning are the means from which we model ourselves. For Robert, growing up amongst musicians exposed him to the many sides of music at an early age. His father, Sidney Snow, was playing bass and guitar professionally in various bands since 1957. And both his cousin and uncle were musicians as well. Answering the house phone sometimes meant hearing the voice of someone like Eartha Kitt on the other end. And before Robert would go on to choose his own path in life, he witnessed his father successfully support a family performing with people like Dr. John and Teddy Riley. Celebrity may not quite register in the minds of children. But hearing his father play guitar on the radio most definitely did. And knowing his dad played the guitar in Angel Baby may not have struck a chord with a young Robert. But he knew who the Beatles were. And hearing John Lennon compliment the guitar piece in that very song by Rosie and the Originals certainly resonated with Robert.  

As fate would have it, by the time he was at Mcmain Magnet High School in New Orleans, he was playing second chair coronet. It was here that Robert spent some time picking up on music theory and a deeper appreciation for jazz. He would later make the move to Chalmette High where he was selected for all-state in the school band. For his exceptional talent, he was awarded several scholarships. But playing jazz in a school band wasn’t something that he took all too seriously. Many of us have a time in life that we can look back on where we chose desire over opportunity. For Robert, this would be one of those times. The transitional period from adolescence to manhood swayed Robert more toward his girlfriend and less toward the out-of-state scholarships. Combining this factor with the hold early eighties metal had taken on him, playing coronet away from home in a College jazz band just didn’t appeal to him. Still, the fact that playing music had become elemental in Robert’s landscape was clear, no matter the course.

As with many musicians coming out of high school, the need for cash landed him at various jobs and further away from any consideration of a career in music. A tinge of rebellion had seeded within him though. And it manifested itself in Robert trying out anything other than music as a profession. Life sent Robert through a myriad of jobs, from washing dishes to construction. And by the mid-eighties, he had moved on to casually playing bass in metal bands while making ends meet through a roofing job. While his metal roots took hold and felt right, his band practiced more than they gigged. Sweating atop a roof in Algiers one day, he stared at the skyline of downtown New Orleans across the Mississippi River. He recalls thinking, “my daddy’s over there making money man… playing music. I can play bass!” The thought became the catalyst for Robert quitting his job and vowing to make it in life as a career musician. Well, maybe not THE catalyst. We can’t leave out the persuasive impact he felt the time he fell off a roof while on the job (pun intended). Either way, his mind was made up. And he sought guidance from his father for his next steps.

“My old man helped me out to get some gigs. And it took me about four or five years to really get a repertoire of songs in my head”, Robert explained. And as he pointed out, most people don’t realize what it takes to ingrain such a sizable collection of songs in one’s memory. But through determination and repetition, he was able to build and retain a catalog in the hundreds over time. The first gig Robert’s father was able to book for him wasn’t for coronet. The music director had too many trumpet players already. And it wasn’t for the electric bass he had been playing in rock bands. Out of necessity, Robert was thrown in the bullpen clinging to an upright bass with a jazz band. Robert recalled, “Oh God that was painful. Because I was an electric bass player and I didn’t have the chops. It’s a different animal too. It is bass. But you got to know intonation ‘cause there’s no frets. So, there’s nothing to guide you. There’s no dots. So, it takes a little while. But after maybe four or five months of me doing it, I finally got to where I knew my intonation; where everything should be. I could here if I was out of tune. The cool thing about upright bass is you can slide into tune. You might hit the wrong ones but you can fudge it a little bit.”  One might say that the upright bass that landed in his lap basically outlined his life up until this point. He was slapping notes and making sounds. But he wasn’t quite in tune with where he should’ve been. Over time, he slid into his groove and true tones came ringing.

For decades Robert played in countless bands like King James & the Special Men, The New Orleans Jazz Vipers, The Abitals, and Three Piece Mix to name a few. He built his repertoire, sharpened his skills on the upright bass and electric bass. And he is still very much involved in music today. He currently occupies the roster with bands like The New Orleans Cotton Mouth Kings, The Melatauns, Little Freddie King, Franklin Avenue Overpass, and The Smokehouse Brown Trio. As he pointed out, this month (October), he’s got 32 gigs in 31 days. And I’m willing to bet he’s the only man in New Orleans that could pull off a two-fingered death punch with those well-earned callouses. Along the way, there have been certain times in life where he’s had to make decisions concerning his path in the performing arts. One can choose to go with the flow so-to-speak and feel or appear to be progressing. As long as your band keeps getting gigs, things are going as they should, right?

Ever present in the back of Robert’s mind existed this aversion. It was based on his antipathy for being confined to one genre. I’ll be the first one to tell you that stagnation is death. And I would imagine this rigor set in over time with him. For example, while playing with King James and the Special Men, all seemed fine. Things were better than fine as a matter of fact. That band became largely popular in the New Orleans area circa 2010-2020. And with them he enjoyed a ten-year run in front of packed houses. But that aversion started to set in, and through it he came to realize that the band had missed its mark. In his opinion, they should have peaked years before and made it big. And despite their successes and camaraderie, he felt it was time to move on. It was right about this time that Little Freddie King came calling. Freddie had parted ways with his bass player and was in search of fresh talent. He was acquainted with Robert through their mutual gig spot, BJ’s in the Bywater. And both Freddie and his drummer, Wacko Wade, knew Robert’s father Sidney. Now, at the time Robert received the call, he told Freddie that due to his current involvement in so many bands, he wasn’t sure he could commit. But the two agreed that Robert would play with King James and the Special Men that night and talk to Freddie the next day. So, Robert played with the band that night at their regular gig, The Saturn Bar on St. Claude. The next morning, before he spoke with Freddie, Jimmy from King James and the Special Men called him. He explained to Robert that he was moving in a different direction with the band and would be laying off Robert, along with a guitar player and a sax player. The parting was, and still is, looked back upon as amicable between the two. And Robert acknowledges that this experience truly helped him shed his skin. Not ten minutes later came the call from Freddie King. And to Robert’s confirmation that he was ready to make the move came Freddie’s quick response, “Ok great. We’ve got a gig in two days… Bayou Bugaloo.” Almost immediately, Robert had gone from packed houses to a three-day outdoor festival event that sees attendance in the tens of thousands. Making Little Freddie King his main gig, he’s stuck by Freddie’s side ever since. And he was even able to enjoy work through the pandemic because of this turn of events. And this is no surprise given Freddie’s prominence. Little Freddie King’s gut-bucket style blues has carried him through fourty-two years of appearances at The New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival, an induction into the Louisiana Music Hall of Fame, and the achievement of Blues Performer of the Year three times. He took home Best Blues Album at the 12th Annual Independent Music Awards for his 2012 album, Chasing tha Blues, and has appeared in countless publications. And he has fourteen albums on the books.  

Another band Robert plays with, his baby as he calls it, is The Melatauns. He’s published seven albums with this band, one that he founded with a buddy from high school, Pat Ricks. True to form, they’ve always written and recorded original songs. And you never know what genre they’re coming from next. Their first two albums were heavy metal. From there they moved to an all original album of latin and swing music. And the prefix to The Melatauns name would change with the tone. The first two albums being heavy metal found them as The Mighty Melatauns. For the next, they were The Swinging Melatauns. And so on. Their singer Pat has always been able to keep pace with Robert’s constant quest for the next genre, despite his modest beginnings in a church choir. Robert describes his tone as “blue-eyed soul”. And the keyboard player for The Melatauns can also play accordion. Which also contributes to their diversity amongst the genres. On their albums, Robert would use a rotating roster of about twenty different guys. And live, you could find five or six guys on stage covering guitar, drums, keys, and horns with Robert on bass.

A recent development in Robert’s life has been the formation of the Smokehouse Brown Trio. Smokehouse plays with the band Johnny Mastro and Mama’s Boys, a blues band based out of New Orleans that travels all over the world. And somewhere around April of ’22, Smoke called drummer Chris Davis, also known as “Cakewalk” to discuss Smoke’s interest in forming his own band. He was particularly hopeful in snagging a few of the guys from the old group King James and the Special Men. So, on Mardi Gras night, they all got together and opened for C.C. Adcock. “We were under the impression that we were gonna go into the Special Men kind of bag. And it wound up not being that. So, three of the Special Men quit and me and Chris stayed. So, we wound up being The Smokehouse Brown Trio.” They now perform every Monday night from 9 p.m. until 11 p.m. at BJ’s in the Bywater. And as Robert describes it, it’s really hardcore Chicago style blues with a rock and roll feel. You’ll see Robert on both upright and electric bass for this arrangement. And if you’re lucky, other musicians will sit in on the session as they sometimes do. Harmonica player Andy J. Forest is one of them. Bobby Lewis, also a harmonica player, from Little Freddie King is another. As for now, they are considered the house band at BJ’s. And the band isn’t sure if they’re going to start pushing their music out into other areas. But there is a possible album on the horizon. Robert couldn’t give up the name at the time. But a notable blues label out of Chicago is interested in the trio to re-record a record that was made in the 60’s. We went on to discuss his education in copyrighting and sync licensing, as well as his delving into writing scores for movies. And you’ll be able to hear about that on our Youtube Channel. If you click subscribe, you’ll be notified when this interview publishes. Or you can click your favorite streaming platform below and catch the podcast.

Not remaining in any single genre has been a common theme throughout Robert’s life. His innate desire in the beginning to explore the many facets of music and be a part of them all plotted his course to success later on in life. Through it, he’s met and worked with too many musicians to name. And he’s performed in so many places. He was even able to land a gig in Italy because of it, expanding his contact list while there. And there’s a bit of irony here in that, in the beginning, he didn’t want to entertain the idea of his father’s intentions for him as a musician. That adolescent, rebellious nature came calling as it does in so many of us. And during that time, Robert questioned the notion of ever becoming a professional musician at all. Nowadays, being well versed in so many styles of music, he frequently borrows from one genre to experiment with in other genres. And as he affirms, everything is related to the blues. “Rock and roll is related to the blues. I mean, listen to Led Zeppelin. Listen to any great rock band. They were all into the blues. Same thing in swing. They use blues progressions. Not all of ‘em. But a lot of ‘em, they use blues progressions. Listen to the Saints (When the Saints Go Marching In). It moves to a blues progression. So, I think a unifying genre that unifies all of them would be the blues. And it’s rooted in gospel.” In some ways, one might say that Robert became his father’s likeness, sliding into genres just as he would slide in tune on his upright bass. You can find Robert’s music under the many monikers above at Louisiana Music Factory on Frenchman Street, as well as Spotify and Neworleansmusicians.com.

Author: David Trahan

Neworleansmusicians.com