Friday was my first day at Jazzfest.

Crowded.

Very bloody crowded, and I hate crowds.

People everybloodywhere. Thousands of them.

 

All of the venues within the fairground were very heavily patronised, but you note the crowds from well before you get to the fairgrounds: on Canal St, outside the Sheraton, is where you get the shuttle from. There’s a line that reaches around the corner, and a shortage of shuttles. After not moving in the queue for maybe fifteen minutes I decide to ignore the warnings about how few taxis there are coming back, and decide to cab it to the festival.

Good decision: I get picked up by a local cabbie (of course) who is taking a friend of his to the festival. She’s originally from … Sydney! She sings, he plays the horn, I play bass … we have a trio! Maryjane currently lives in Ireland, but comes to N’Awlins for Jazzfest every year. That’s probably something I need to think about doing.

Because my press tickets don’t apply on the Friday or Saturday, I need to buy myself entry. $50, no re-entry privileges. No problems.

I decide to just wander around for a while … sample the atmosphere, sample the food, see who’s where. I go to the press tent to collect my recording authorisation letter, and then just walk around the place, stopping at various stages and peeking into various tents.

My first impression is that yes, it’s very crowded: you can’t get near any of the stages.

I wander through the centre of the racetrack, stopping by a food stall for some lunch. For a fairground, the food is surprisingly good, and most items are less than $5 each.

Over to the blues tent where the Lee Boys are belting it out. Into the jazz tent … maybe this is where I should just camp ?

Wander back to the other side again … Trombone Shorty will be at the Congo Stage area shortly. While walking around the back I see this very elegantly attired gentleman: Mr Allen Toussaint. I trouble him for a brief interview, and being the gentleman that he is, he obliges.

I get to the Congo Stage just as Trombone Shorty starts his set. It seems that the secret is out: this guy is good, and there’s thousands of people in the crowd who know this for a fact. And he knows how to work the crowd too.

 

The weather is hot, and so is the band; these guys are good! Rain threatens, but nobody cares. It’s the music that’s important here, and these guys have the audience in their hands.

Everybody is smiling, and the music is the reason. As if on cue, just as the set finishes, the skies open up. Everyone gets wet, but nobody’s spirits are dampened.