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A Tale of God’s Will May 3, 2008

Posted by The Typist in 504, 8-29, Federal Flood, Flood, Jazz Fest, je me souviens, New Orleans, NOLA, Toulouse Street, We Are Not OK.
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Today Terence Blanchard led his quintet, with faces as solemn as morticians’, in a joyful noise together with a backing orchestral group selections of his A Tale of God’s Will (A Requiem for Katrina). It was an Odd moment for Jazz Fest (and so perhaps our favorite here on Toulouse Street). I saw two tributes so far, one for Willie “Tee” and Earl Turbington and a show featuring young students of Alvin Batiste. Both were joyful celebrations of the musicians honored, music interspersed with stories and spoken word tributes. They were perfectly in the tradition of a city where, once we have buried the deceased, the parade begins.

Blanchard’s recital this afternoon was of another character altogether. It was more like the full funeral package, with all of the the sadness and solemnity of the service and the recession from the church and march to the cemetery. The Reverend-esque Blanchard spoke of the deceased and offered an excellent homily.There was his tale of boat rescuers, of people being taken out told to be quiet so the people left behind that trip might not hear them, told to cover their children’s eyes as they passed through an area full of dead bodies, introduced the piece “Funeral Dirge”.

His homily was on the importance of Lee’s film, When The Levees Broke. He told the tale of his mother asked by Spike Lee to let him film her first return to her ruined home, of how he warned her what having a full film crew following her might mean at such a difficult and delicate moment, of how proud he was that she insisted. People, his mother told him, need to know what happened down here. This led into the piece “Dear Mom”.

When they were not playing, Blanchard and his group were as serious as their subject, and as the music they composed. It seemed fitting for the piece of music a friend of mine told me before the show was the one he would put on when he felt compelled to escape his home on the sliver by the river to drive around Gentilly, sometimes checking on homes he had gutted to see if any have made progress. When he does this, he said, he will sometimes bawl like a baby.

At the first orchestral passage, Blanchard reached up to his face and wiped with his fingers just beneath his glasses as if to wipe away tears, a motion I last saw on a jazz stage at a Red Cross benefit in Fargo, N.D., after New Orleans trumpeter Marc Braud spoke of recovering his instrument as the rest of that band played “Do You Know What It Means”.

The audience I could see (and I was rapt and could not turn my head away from the stage) were just as transported. The WWOZ DJ who sat in front of me was not the outgoing, crowd-working celebrity I had seen in the tent and up on stage announcing the rest of the day, but sat solemn as a sphinx. The other stage announcer, a man in a red t-shirt and dreadlocks, sat at the foot of the stage looking not at the musicians but stared straight ahead into some private place. A woman came and sat beside him and put her arm around him.

As Blanchard spoke and the musicians played, the rain that had held off all day finally broke in torrents, as if the music had moved not just a few thousands in this tent on this day but had seized the hearts of the heavenly host and moved them to tears as well as they considered the Odd mix of pain and beauty that is God’s Will.

It was also, as I promised Friday, a time of joy. As the band wailed through the beautiful Ashe and the straight ahead jazz numbers that ended the concert, the orchestra musicians who had sat at attention in their best, serious concert poses, began to be transported by the music as well. The first violin began to show a shy smile, and to bob her head in time as members of the audience around me did. An incredulous cello in a John Brown beard divided his attention between an incredible bass solo and watching the drummer. When Blanchard called on the audience to help him by taking of the chant “This is a tale of God’s will” from the album’s opening cut, we were all transported without moving to the Gospel Tent and the moment of redemption many of us had come for arrived at last.

As I had hoped, Blanchard’s quintet had drowned the bitch in beauty and flooded the streets with tears of joy.

Also, don’t miss the podcast interview which Blanchard’s team (he mentioned bringing in his personal sound man and tour manager to run the boards) had put up the very same evening.

N.B. Fixed numerous typos. Must not try to post when dead tired and trying to rush out the door to the Fairgrounds. Thanks G.P.

Last update: here’s another camera video of an excerpt of Ashe’.

Update 5-12-09 Based on a notice from You Tube that the Louisiana Philharmonic Orchestra objected to these small, low-fidelity excerpts I shot with my $100 Cannon from 100 feet away, I’m removing the video. In fact, I’m going to go back and edit out references crediting the LPO with participation in this performance and will simply refer to them as “the orchestra”.


1. KamaAina - May 4, 2008

A couple of years ago, I was on yet another interminable flight from Hawai’i to the mainland, in this case Cincinnati (en route to Washington, D.C.) Wouldn’t you know, I don’t sleep well on planes, so I got fairly deep into Delta’s audio presentations. Specifically, the jazz channel.

One piece in particular caught my ear. It made me think of the pouring-rain Ash Wednesday I spent holed up in my host’s place in Broadmoor (yes, the one who picked me up at Tropical Isle, right in front of Mom’s nose, the year before!), because I couldn’t get a flight back to Chicago until Thursday morning. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but I thought, “Now this, this is New Orleans jazz.” Some ineffable ethereal quality seemed to distinguish it from all other jazz.

Then I looked in the in-flight magazine. The vocalist was Diana Krall — and the featured player was just who you were talking about, Terence Blanchard. So I was right. It was New Orleans jazz. I’ve still got it… So does he.


2. Andy H - May 5, 2008

It’s odd, my mother is dying, and I was reading Newsweek about the artist working to revive RO. The article mentioned Terrence Blanchards requiem. So I got it off itunes. I cried and cried and cried.

My youngest is a music major at St Olaf, so I sent “Tales of God’s Will” to him for his Ipod, then called him and said it would probably ruin his music career. He said warily, “Why’s that?” “Cuz this is so evocative, moving, and the musicianship is so great you’ll probably throw in the towel and become a Lutheran minister.” He laughed. Knowing him he’ll be inspired, moved, and challenged. It does set the bar very high. Very powerful and beautiful. Does anyone know how I could send a note to Mr Blanchard.

Now when I need a good cry this will join Barbers “Adagio for Strings” on my list of powerful soulful nods to the the Big soul.

One of my things I’ve added to my bucket list, is making a pilgramage to Congo Square, laying on my back and howling a thankyou.


3. Kirsty - May 6, 2008

I couldn’t be there – sadly I am still off work (injury from car accidents). I had a discussion with a colleague who did play the gig and she was talking about the storm and all she and other LPO musicians lost. There are a lot of new members of the orchestra (17 this year alone) which have contributed to raising the quality of the group but we discussed that its the players who went through Katrina that find playing this particular gig difficult emotionally – but that probably also adds to the emotion being communicated to the audience.

The violinist you talk about is an example of the new blood and the cellist is one of the older generation that went through the storm. The orchestra has come back better than before but we are still homeless and those that were here before, still miss the Orpheum … Like so many others in this city, it is the LPO’s dream to have a home again.


4. Wet Bank Guy - May 6, 2008

Hopefully, the cellist won’t mind the John Brown beard description. I guess if he has one, he ought be be used to it.

What’s interesting and yet I didn’t touch on it directly was the difference in the demeanor of the two sets of musicians. It’s there in the post but not stated outright. The art music set in their concert black mostly sat with what I think of (and think I called) their “concert faces” on. What was odd was seeing the same sort of face on the jazz players.

Hope you’re healing up well. I promise not to forget to forward the invite to the next party.

There are construction signs on the Orpheum indicating something is going on there, but i haven’t seen any real activity yet. We’re losing so many of the downtown venues, losing the Orpheum would be terrible.


5. A Tale Of Ill Will « Odd Bits of Life in New Orleans - May 14, 2009

[…] my statement of Fair Use below on the right from the posts We Will Drown the Bitch in Beauty and A Tale of God’s Will and replace them with more of my own still photography which is explicitly allowed by the New […]


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