On the 5th Anniversary of Katrina, I woke up with a mission to write something important yet positive. I wanted to vent my frustration, but also vowed to emulate the spirit of the brave New Orleans people who refused to look back and refused to feel sorry for themselves. As I struggled with a blank page, I received an email from a friend. The subject line read, "Have you seen this?"
"I must admit that the barrage of media coverage regarding the 5th anniversary of Katrina has given me serious PTSD. I have been struggling with how to commemorate the day- attend the interfaith service, lay in bed with the covers over my head until August 30th? As is so, with many of life's questions, the answers can often be found in the words of a song.
'Ain't nobody here on their knees with their heads bowed down, we all up and dancing, on the dancing ground.'"
15 years later and I will let the music do the talking.
TRACKLIST
Ode To Joyful- Jon Batiste Ha Di Ka- Galactic Jungle Man- The Meters Every Night About This Time- Fats Domino Bad Apples- Royal Fingerbowl Fortunate Son- Ivan Neville I'm Not Sayin'- James Booker Get Low Down Pt. 1- Curly Moore Backwater Blues- Irma Thomas Salt Of The Earth- Johnny Adams Everything I Do Gon' Be Funky- Stanton Moore & Cyril Neville Manic Depression- Little Queenie I'm Gonna Sit Right Down & Write Myself A Letter- Alexis & The Samurai Lightning & Thunder- Tab Benoit Don't Dream It's Over- Deacon John All Good Things- Jon Cleary West End Blues- Allen Toussaint Just A Closer Walk With Thee- Dirty Dozen Brass Band
As I mentioned in yesterday's post, three Macca/McManus demos failed to get to a final master release. One of them only appeared on an officially released Record Store Day cassette (!), not even the super deluxe version of "Flowers In The Dirt." That track is "I Don't Want To Confess," and it's a track I occasionally obsess over.
It's the one demo that not only sounds unfinished, but also as if both Paul and Elvis out wrote each other to the point of neither feeling quite sure where they were or where they should be going. But that is why I think this demo could have been their masterpiece.
"I Don't Want To Confess," in just two and a half minutes, never offers an obvious hook. That sounds like a bad thing when talking about pop music, but in this case, it feels more like a game of chicken between the two writers. Every part, every harmony, every change is a challenge, not just to the listener, but to the writers themsleves. I found myself hooked to every section and idea. They've written something so beautifully complex, they couldn't quite grasp it themselves. So, they called it a day.
As much as I would love to see this song built to something huge, I think I am satisfied with imagining what could have been. "I Don't Want To Confess" makes me feel like there is always a possibility.
I have had the McCartney/Costello demos in heavy rotation since the very first bootleg appeared on the Vigotone label in 1998. There was no guarantee that anything these two geniuses produced together would be any good. As it turned out, almost every track, whether in demo form or as a finished master appearing on their individual solo albums, was something special, at least to my ears. A few tracks, especially the demos, sounded eerily like Elvis was channeling a former partner of Mr. McCartney.
That said, I listened to them, as well as the officially released 1988 "Flowers In The Dirt" demos last weekend. The 1988 demos fall between the acoustic demos made by the duo, and the masters. The 1988 demos, I believe, were recorded by Paul, with his band, as the next guiding step in deciding what would be included on the 1989 album. All but three, "Tommy's Coming Home," "Twenty Fine Fingers" and "I Don't Want To Confess" found their way out, and I think all of these songs, including the three unreleased cuts, whether on Paul's records or Costello's records, are some of the finest material of their career.
I was particularly interested in "So Like Candy."
Up top is the McCartney/Costello acoustic demo. What came after stayed pretty faithful to that original demo arrangement, except for a few things.
The 1988 demo by Paul, directly above, though not a happy tune, seems a little more upbeat. It still plays like a ballad, but the 1988 demo has an almost jaunty feel to the chorus that I don't think works. It also has a nice call and response on the second chorus, that I quite like. Another thing that stands out, both the acoustic demo and the 1988 demo share something that the final master on Costello's "Mighty Like A Rose" does not. The final line of the bridge, "so she turns and melts away" stays on the major chord like the verse before it, whereas on the Costello studio version, it goes to the minor on the last word "away," making it far more intense to my ears.
I often wondered if Costello originally came up with that minor on the bridge, only to have it vetoed by Paul for sounding too much like Lennon, but then just added it back while recording his version. Or was Costello inspired to change it during his recording, so it absolutely sounded like Lennon.
April 2004, it's Jazz Fest, it's hot, and The Funky Butt in New Orleans is jam packed. There are so many people crowding the stage area, David Torkanowsky is climbing through the French windows that open onto Rampart Street to get to his piano inside the club. My friend Maurice Brown is holding court, with a band that includes Terence Higgins on drums, Devin Phillips on sax, and an 18 year old kid named Jonathan Batiste playing the organ next to Tork's piano. It's showtime and it only takes minutes into the set to realize I will be witness to an all timer. And no one is impressing me more than Jonathan Batiste.
April 2006, First Jazz Fest after Katrina, Jonathan Batiste plays his first headlining set in the Jazz Tent. Emotions were high that weekend, as you can imagine. People were crying while standing in the food line for some gumbo or a po'boy because just months ago, they didn't think they'd ever be doing it again. And Batiste's set absolutely smoked.
I took notes that year, all of which you will find in the New Orleans chapter of my upcoming book, "Listening Right: A Life Led By Music From Soho To Sheepshead Bay." Here's what I had to say about Jon Batiste-
"The next stop was the Jazz Tent for what could already be the performance of the trip. 20 year old, homegrown Jonathan Batiste was making his Jazz Fest debut as a leader with his trio. A mix of Oscar Peterson swing with Professor Longhair's attack, always sounding like Monk. As my friend Dan pointed out, "This is all Monk, man, only you can hear ALL the notes." Outstanding. Batiste brought the house down for the first official Jazz Fest Moment of 2006."
20 years later, everyone knows Jon Batiste. He is a rock star and deservedly so. His successful run of Grammy winning releases covers a lot of ground. I've enjoyed them all, though the little heard 2007 release "Live In New York: At The Rubin Museum" remains my favorite. It's how I like Jon best, in a trio setting with nothing but his genius behind the piano.
But now, we have "Big Money, his just released new record on the Verve label. It comes in at a svelte 32 minutes and it is quite the set.
Batiste has jumped genres since the beginning, but never as comfortably as he does on "Big Money." From the gorgeous R&B burner that opens things up, a duet with Andra Day called "Lean On My Love," to the country gospel raves of "Pinnacle" and the title track, "Big Money" wastes none of it. And if you want to hear Jon play the piano, listen to "Do It All Again," or what might end up being my favorite song of the year, "Maybe," a chilling, one take heartbreak stunner, that left me frozen. When I said that to Jon, he said, "I sat down and let that song flow through me onto the tape."
I knew it. I felt it as I was listening. It has a primal Lennon/Plastic Ono Band vibe to it. "Maybe" is special, and so is "Big Money."
The back of the album cover says "All songs recorded live. The Band and vocal performances were all captured together in the same room, at the same time, to maximize connectivity and expression."
It worked, because I felt connected to this music immediately.
I am often asked about my favorite New Orleans records. It's a long list from Dr. John and Irma Thomas to James Booker, Stanton Moore and Jon Cleary. But as great as all of those recordings are, they can never replace the magic of seeing and hearing this music in person, in New Orleans. Jon Batiste's "Big Money" is the closest I've been to New Orleans without leaving my home in New York City. I can't say for sure if that is what Jon intended. But maybe because it is in his blood, the outcome was inevitable. Or maybe it's because, it's just what I needed right now.
Exodus- Grant Green All My Life- Harry Nilsson & John Lennon Hanging On- Patsy Todd & Boris Gardiner Quartet Stewart's Coat- Rickie Lee Jones Someplace Where Love Can't Find Me- Marshall Crenshaw I Don't Remember (Alternate Version)- Peter Gabriel I Wonder- Marvin Gaye
