zydeco – New Orleans Musicians

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

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

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

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

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

Author: David Trahan

Neworleansmusicians.com

Gofundme link

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

Zydeco by Birth Trailer

WOWD-LP Takoma Park Community Radio 94.3FM

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

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A sense of identity can be drawn from the music one chooses. And as children, a sense of our family’s identity is passed on to us in this manner. We’re not always lucky enough to have heritage tucked into that medium. But members of the band Poisson Rouge were. Now husband and wife, located in Erath, Louisiana, founding members Greg and Kylie Griffin were both steeped in Acadian culture as children. Some relatives in Kylie’s family spoke fluent French. And the sounds of zydeco artists like Rockin Sydney were frequently heard by Greg as a child. As awareness of their culture gradually took hold, they began to form bonds with the underlying meanings of these elements. Those like Greg and Kylie that are fortunate enough to learn about their heritage at an early age often feel a sense of pride within it and a duty to protect it. This sentiment is at the core of Poisson Rouge.

Perhaps a brief pause is in order to help clarify key components of the origins of this microcosm we call Louisiana. Acadian heritage is that of French ex-patriots that arrived in Nova Scotia seeking religious freedom. And in their quest were ultimately driven out of the province, some coming to settle in Louisiana. The Creole heritage draws from people indigenous to Louisiana as a colony and possesses French, West African, Spanish and Native American roots. Consequently, the Creole population is comprised of African, Caucasian, and multi-racial people. Cajun is a result of the melding of both Acadians and Creoles. Being that the groups are now so closely related and the origins of each date back hundreds of years amongst many continents, all of what I just said is debatable. And the terms have taken on different meanings over the years. But for the purposes of this article, it will help to at least explain the continuity amongst the influences of each.

Being a genre built upon and delivering messages of tradition, the realm of cajun, zydeco, and creole music can sometimes be tricky to navigate for musicians. Purist nay-sayers turn up occasionally, thumbing their nose at the infusion of styles such as R&B or funk that are outside of familiar landscapes. I suspect there is an inherent fear that things of this nature will eventually dilute an important element of these cultures. But while Poisson Rouge appreciates the importance of the preservation of traditional styles, they welcome inspiration from other genres too. For instance, their song La Louisiane contains more than one verse where Kylie actually raps. But the song is encased in familiar zydeco elements like a washboard, an accordion, and a French horn. As for the final result, how does it sound you might ask? Poisson Rouge books countless venues and festivals every year with attendances from hundreds to thousands.

Like many of us, Greg, Kylie, and other members of this band grew up listening to a multitude of different genres. And sometimes the influence of those alternative genres seep into and subsequently change the final result. As for the nay-sayers, Greg disagrees with the idea that music needs to be made to appeal to other people. And I second this notion because I believe pandering to appeal hinders creativity. Ironically, the free communication of and borrowing from different genres closely parallels the manner in which cajun, creole, and zydeco genres were formed over the years. Similarly, though trumpet and french horn were Kylie’s strong suit, she sought to change that upon returning to the University of Lafayette to pursue her master’s degree in music. Courses there with horns were centered around classical jazz. As she explained to the university, “I’m done with the band stuff. I don’t want to play french horn anymore because it doesn’t serve any purpose. I’m just teaching music, I’m not playing music in that genre, you know classical jazz.” Kylie went on to play accordion while pursuing her masters. Within the concept of influences shared amongst genres, I couldn’t help but think what effect years of french horn and trumpet in a classical jazz setting had on a musician that would ultimately play accordion in a zydeco band. I find these things both fascinating and convergent. The cross-over appeal between audiences that Poisson Rouge enjoys is achieved by their willingness to accept and include influences from other genres not native to their history. With tradition and progression lurking, Poisson Rouge as a body of work has never felt contrived for its members. There is a deep-rooted passion that underlies their resulting sound. Some of the band’s members are people who were music majors in college. Some of them are music teachers now. Some of their families’ members play music. And all of them got to see musicians on festival stages at an early age.

In Louisiana, there are more festivals per year than days in a year. We celebrate everything from culture and industry to wooden boats and food trucks. Yes, we actually have several food truck festivals. (The next one is in Slidell, Louisiana on October 29^th, 2022, a week from this article’s posting.) Making the transition from the crowd to the stage, bassist Greg Griffin has taken notice of those in attendance at some of these festivals. Often times he can read what type of crowd he’s playing for by their style of dress. And even when the crowd hasn’t quite fit his band’s infused design, he’s still seen nods of approval. But singer/ accordion player Kylie expressed concern stating, “Playing in Alexandria has been the most eye opening. Because nobody really dances; very few. You will get some people that will dance. And you’re like woah, one couple danced. But down here, that (dancing) is the norm…. It goes to show you how fast our culture is just going away, especially in some areas of the state.” When Kylie was growing up, you couldn’t keep drinks on the tables in zydeco clubs due to the amount of people dancing on wooden floors.

Through twists and turns in the bayou, the trees begin to envelope you, gradually concealing a world beyond. Likewise, the further one strays off the beaten path in Louisiana, the more they become surrounded by unique characteristics indigenous to the region. These features contribute a sense of singularity to the land as well as its inhabitants. Losing these features can essentially begin to strip away the character of a region and a sense of one’s own identity. Long ago, our nation’s Constitution removed bilingualism and in time would include an article that restricted the judicial process to the English language. This reduced the status of the French in Louisiana. And the assimilation of Louisiana’s French population into a now English society would see children chastised and humiliated for speaking French in schools. Since the language of a people is at the core of their identity, this effectively began the removal of their existence. Kylie grew up on a crawfish farm in Pecan Island that was later claimed by Hurricane Rita, which ultimately resulted in its sale. Her children will never know that way of life, nor will their children. And it was her late grandmother that would speak French to her when she was a child, not her parents. With the extinguishment of these factors comes a cultural whitewashing. As time marches on and previous generations die, with them is buried little pieces of our heritage. Unearthing these pieces and placing them on display is essential to maintaining a people’s continuation. In Greg and Kylie’s capacity both as musicians and as school teachers, it has always been a focal point to keep their own culture at the forefront of their efforts. They have both participated in a French immersion program in Nova Scotia that works to embolden the use of French language amongst its participants. They have put on summer music camps for children in the past where the kids played guitar, fiddle and accordion, singing songs in French. The school where they both teach facilitates a crawfish pond and a rice patch, familiarizing its students with their local way of life. The song I had mentioned previously, La Louisiane, speaks about the causes and effects resulting in a disappearing culture. And in building upon traditional music styles and stories, and travelling to spread these messages, Poisson Rouge hopes to instill a sense of urgency in its audience as to the needs of a dying legacy. You can find out more about Poisson Rouge on their website poissonrougemusic.com. There you will find pictures, bio’s and links to more music.

Greg Griffin – Bass

Kylie Griffin – Vocals, accordion

Jude Pryor – Guitar

Bradley Gueho – washboard

Scott Domingue – Percussionist

Author: David Trahan

Neworleansmusicians.com