Keeping the Beat on the Street Read online

  KEEPING THE BEAT ON THE STREET

  Rebirth Brass Band Photo by John McCusker. Courtesy Hogan Jazz Archive, Tulane University.

  Majestic Brass Band (Joe Taylor, Jerome Davis, Flo Anckle) Photo by Marceljoly

  The people got the soul. We don’t have it. They always say, “The band got the soul.”

  We don’t have no soul. The people got the soul.

  — FLOYD “FLO” ANCKLE, leader, Majestic Brass Band

  KEEPING THE BEAT

  ON THE STREET

  The New Orleans

  Brass Band Renaissance

  MICK BURNS

  LOUISIANA STATE UNIVERSITY PRESS

  BATON ROUGE

  Published by Louisiana State University Press

  Copyright © 2006 by Louisiana State University Press

  All rights reserved

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  LOUISIANA PAPERBACK EDITION, 2008

  FIRST PRINTING

  DESIGNER: Andrew Shurtz

  TYPEFACE: Tribute

  PRINTER AND BINDER: Thomson-Shore, Inc.

  LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA

  Burns, Mick, 1942-

  Keeping the beat on the street : the New Orleans brass band renaissance / Mick Burns,

  p. cm.

  Includes bibliographical references (p. ), discography (p. ), and index.

  ISBN 0-8071-3048-6(cloth : alk. paper)

  1. Bands (Music)—Louisiana—New Orleans. 2. Jazz—Louisiana—New Orleans—History and criticism. J. Musicians—Louisiana—New Orleans. 4. New Orleans (La.)—Social life and customs. I. Title.

  ML1311.8.N48B87 2005

  784.9’l65'0976335-dc22

  ISBN 978-0-8071-3333-0 (paper : alk. paper)

  Published with support from the Louisiana Sea Grant College Program, a part of the National Sea Grant College program maintained by the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration of the U.S. Department of Commerce.

  The paper in this book meets the guidelines for permanence and durability of the Committee on Production Guidelines for Book Longevity of the Council on Library Resources.

  To the memory of Anthony “Tuba Fats” Lacen

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Introduction

  BAND CALL: Fairview Baptist Church Brass Band, Hurricane Brass Band, Chosen Few Brass Band

  Danny Barker and the Fairview Baptist Church Brass Band

  “What Is the Parade For?”

  Leroy Jones, Trumpet

  Anthony “Tuba Fats” Lacen, Bass Horn

  Gregg Stafford, Trumpet

  Joe Torregano, Saxophones and Clarinet

  Harry Sterling, Guitar

  Tad Jones, Jazz Writer and Historian

  BAND CALL: Dirty Dozen Brass Band

  A Note on the Tremé and Its Music

  Gregory “Blodie” Davis, Trumpet

  Roger Lewis, Saxophones

  Benny Jones, Drums

  “Uncle” Lionel Paul Batiste Sr., Bass Drum

  A Note on the Baby Dolls

  Jerry Brock, Historian, Broadcaster, and Filmmaker

  BAND CALL: Rebirth Brass Band

  The Rebirth Brass Band

  Philip Frazier III, Bass Horn

  Keith Frazier, Bass Drum

  Keith “Wolf” Anderson, Trombone and Bass Horn

  Kermit at Vaughan’s, October 31, 2002

  A Note on the Tambourine and Fan Club

  Jerome Smith, Community Leader

  BAND CALL: New Birth, Majestic, Algiers, All Star, Regal, Tremé, Doc Paulin, Pinstripe, New Wave, Mahogany

  Cayetano “Tanio” Hingle, Bass Drum

  Kenneth “Little Milton” Terry, Trumpet

  Edgar “Sarge” Smith, Bass Horn

  Donna Poniatowski-Sims, Venue Proprietor

  Ruddley Thibodeaux, Trumpet

  James “Little Twelve, ” Andrews, Trumpet

  Lajoie “Butch” Gomez, Saxophones

  “DJ” Davis Rogan, Radio Announcer

  A Note on Ernest “Doc” Paulin, Trumpet

  Oscar Washington, Snare Drum

  Brice Miller, Trumpet

  Norman Dixon, New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival Coordinator

  Epilogue: Second Line on Sunday

  Select Discography: Recommended Listening

  Notes

  Index

  Illustrations

  Rebirth Brass Band

  Majestic Brass Band

  Zulu Social Aid and Pleasure Club with Tremé Brass Band, 1990

  Jolly Bunch parade, 1973, second line and band

  Danny Barker

  Fairview Baptist Church

  Leroy Jones

  Hurricane Brass Band at George “Kid Sheik” Colar’s birthday party

  Anthony Lacen

  Dew Drop Cafe, 2840 La Salle Street

  Chosen Few Brass Band

  Gregg Stafford

  Johnny Wimberley

  Hurricane Brass Band, 1980

  Joe Torregano with the Hurricane Brass Band, 1980

  Harry Sterling

  Roger Lewis, Jackson Square, 1986

  Dirty Dozen Brass Band

  Elliott Callier, Benny Jones

  Tremé Brass Band

  Troy “Trombone Shorty” Andrews, Lionel Batiste Sr.

  Tremé Brass Band at Freddie Kohlman’s funeral, 1990

  Dirty Dozen Brass Band, Jackson Square, 1986

  Maple Leaf Bar, Oak Street

  Philip Frazier

  Keith Frazier

  Rebirth Brass Band, 1987

  Keith Anderson, Copenhagen

  Vaughan’s Bar and Grill

  Kermit Ruffins, Jackson Square, 1992

  Milton Batiste, 1993

  Tremé Community Center, St. Philip and Villere

  Cayetano Hingle

  Edgar Smith

  Donna’s Bar and Grill

  Ruddley Thibodeaux

  Ruddley Thibodeaux and Danny Barker

  Algiers Brass Band

  James Andrews and Mick Burns, November 2002

  All Star Brass Band

  James Andrews

  Regal Brass Band

  Doc Paulin, 2001

  Curtis Mitchell, Michael White

  Oscar Washington

  Aaron, Ricky, and Roddy Paulin

  Brice Miller and Morten Nilsen, Copenhagen

  Norman Dixon

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks and acknowledgments are due to

  The Board of Directors of the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Foundation, Executive Director Wali Abdel Ra’oof, Program Director Sharon Martin, and Archivist Rachel Lyons, for their support and contributions

  The Lincolnshire County Council

  Jazzology Press, for permission to reprint passages from my book The Great Olympia Band

  New Orleans Music, for permission to reprint “Anthony Lacen: Goodbye Tuba Fats”

  The New Orleans Jazz Commission and the New Orleans Jazz National Historical Park

  The William Ransom Hogan Jazz Archive at Tulane University, Curator Bruce Boyd Raeburn, and Lynn Abbott and Alma Williams Freeman

  The Amistad Research Center at Tulane University, Director of Archives Brenda Square, and Heidi Dodson

  Parker Dinkins, Peter Nissen, Brian Wood, Bill Bissonette, Emile Martyn, Anthony Lacen, and Helen Regis

  Marcel Joly, Bill Dickens, Butch Gomez, Mike Casimir, Leroy Jones, Dave Cirilli, and Mike Peters, who provided photographs

  Holly Hardiman, who helped with the index

  The musicians and citizens of New Orleans, who gave freely of their time for interviews so that this story could be told

  Barry Martyn, whose
assistance was invaluable

  Louisiana State University Press and editor George Roupe

  KEEPING THE BEAT ON THE STREET

  Introduction

  The early years of the twentieth century saw the explosive beginnings of the most culturally significant American art form, jazz. The influence of this creative phenomenon born in New Orleans changed things for ever. The whole spectrum of music, from Tin Pan Alley to musical shows to Stravinsky and Shostakovich, reflected the spirit and sound that first found expression on the streets of a city in southern Louisiana. Louis Armstrong, Sidney Bechet, Kid Ory, and King Oliver achieved considerable personal success outside the city. But they were the most visible members of a larger diaspora that carried the new music not only across America but to London, Paris, Cairo, Moscow, and Beijing. Almost all the practitioners of this new art form found a cradle for their burgeoning talents in the brass bands, which had been around for decades before jazz began. One hundred and thirty years later, the brass bands of New Orleans still perform the same function they always did and still provide a crucible for the seemingly inexhaustible supply of creative fire that is New Orleans music.

  According to contemporary accounts, the first black brass bands in New Orleans appear to have hit the streets in the 1870s. Typically consisting of nine or ten pieces, they played whatever they could get hired to play—dignified sonorous dirges for funerals, sprightly military marches for parades, and popular hits of the day for dances and concerts. At that time, the brass band movement, mostly fueled by amateur musicians, flourished all over America and Europe—there were bands attached to villages, churches, factories, plantations, and coal mines; they served as a creative outlet for the working man and a symbol of celebration and solidarity for their communities.

  In the beginning, there probably wasn’t much difference between a brass band in New Orleans and, for example, northern England—“Shepherd of the Hills” played competently from a written score is going to sound very similar wherever it happens. What makes New Orleans brass band music unique is the way the musicians started with the same ingredients as everyone else and transformed them into a vital art form. Today, a brass band in New Orleans will kick off on a bass lick, play a continuous collective improvisation (no written music) and keep it going for as long as forty minutes. In northern England, the brass bands are still reading “Shepherd of the Hills.”

  How did this happen? In the absence of recordings, we have to rely on contemporary accounts for the start of the process. According to Richard Knowles’s excellent book Fallen Heroes (Jazzology Press) the emerging “hot” style of playing first appeared in a brass band context with the Tuxedo Brass Band, under the leadership of trumpet player Oscar Celestin, sometime after 1910.

  Celestin also led a hugely popular dance band, and many of the city’s top players (including some early jazz legends) worked for both organizations. We can only speculate on the extent to which improvisation and swing appeared on the street in those early days, although King Oliver’s 1923 recording of the march “High Society” offers a broad hint.

  In 1929, a film newsreel soundtrack captured the first recorded sound of a New Orleans brass band playing at a Mardi Gras parade. Although there’s only a brief snatch of muffled music, a unique Crescent City characteristic can clearly be heard—the seductive, propulsive rhythmic device called the “second line beat.”

  In simple terms, this describes a syncopated pattern on the bass drum that may be phonetically rendered as “Dah, Dah, Dah, Didit, Da!” Transfer this rhythmic feel to the horns, and the whole band swings—it makes you want to dance. Of course, there were many bands who could play both written music for formal events and, for want of a better word, improvised “swing” for the dancing crowd. Bands that couldn’t, or didn’t, read music, were dismissively called “tonk” bands by more formally inclined musicians. But it was the ability and inclination to depart from the written score that made New Orleans brass bands so special. In a sense, you could describe the whole creative evolution of brass band music as the triumph of “tonk.”

  Over the next couple of decades, there were other stylistic changes—the rich, chorale-like scoring of formal funeral dirges gave way to the simpler harmonies of Baptist hymns, apparently in response to popular preference. The function of supplying the inner harmonies (the parts between the melody and the bass line) was originally allocated to the tenor and baritone horns, familiarly known as “peck horns.” By the 1940s, there was a collective tendency to replace them with saxophones. They probably made a band sound less resonant when playing written music, but they were more musically suited to the rhythmic and improvisational demands of playing “hot.” By the middle of the 1960s, many of the musicians in the brass bands worked nights in rhythm and blues bands, and this also changed the repertoire and the way it was played.

  In the face of so much change, what do we mean by “tradition” in New Orleans brass band music? Ask any working musician in New Orleans today, and the probable response will be a tune list—something like “Oh yeah, man, we stick to the tradition. We play like ‘Just a Closer Walk,’ ‘Bye Bye Blackbird,’ ‘Second Line,’ that kind of thing.” Trumpet player William Smith added the proviso “But don’t expect the phrasing to be the same. It’s not that clear cut.”1 Indeed it isn’t. Irrespective of the material, the manner of performance reflects the contemporary nature of the musicians, and it always has. This is a living art form, not an exercise in preservation.

  A member of Dejan’s Olympia Brass Band (for many years, the number one brass band in the city) told me a story about working uptown for a neighborhood function. Milton Batiste, the trumpet player, had opened the evening by calling a play list of old songs—“Over in Gloryland,” “Panama,” and “Just a Little While to Stay Here.” Nobody danced until the disco started up, and then the man paid the band off and sent them home without playing their second set. “We should have played our rhythm and blues things for those people,” said my friend. “That traditional stuff, that’s white folks’ music.”

  This is a bit of an oversimplification. “White folks and old folks” would be nearer the mark. People don’t always know what they like, but they definitely like what they know. The older generation are obviously more comfortable with the music they grew up with, and white conventioneers, when they have any expectations at all, want to hear something that approximates Dixieland music. So white folks and old folks both prefer listening to those old tunes, but their way of participating in the music is quite different.

  I was privileged to play at a funeral at St. Michael’s church on Gentilly Boulevard in the mid 1990s. The band was Tuba Fats’s Chosen Few, consisting of Anthony “Tuba Fats” Lacen (tuba), Mervyn Campbell (trumpet), Mick Burns (trombone), Frederick Shepherd and Ernest Watson (saxophones), Benny Jones (snare drum), and Lionel Batiste Sr. (bass drum). At the request of the family, the repertoire was drawn from the old Baptist hymnbook, the band wore uniforms and parade caps, played with great reverence and restraint, and marched (and slow marched) in formal ranks. Everyone knew why we were there, we all had our roles to play, and the whole event had a sense of purpose and completeness, the music and the grief feeding off each other in the morning sunshine. A few days later, a lady stopped me on the sidewalk on Decatur Street. “Excuse me, sir,” she said. “I just wanted to say thank you for playing so beautifully at my uncle’s funeral on Monday.”

  A few years later, I was lucky enough to pick up a job at the convention center with Andrew Hall’s Society Brass Band. The band consisted of Barry Martyn (bass drum), Emile Martyn (snare drum), Wendell Eugene (trombone), Mick Burns (tuba), Chris Clifton (trumpet), and Joe Torregano (saxophone). Again, the band wore uniforms, and the repertoire was drawn from the old-time bag—“Fidgety Feet,” “Lord, Lord, Lord,” and so forth. It was the audience that was different.

  At 5:00 P.M., the doors to one of the lecture theaters opened, and hundreds of delegates poured out, wearing Mardi Gras beads in November. One
minute they’d been listening to next year’s marketing strategy or, even worse, an “inspirational address,” and within seconds, they were getting “Just a Little While to Stay Here” from a distance of less than twenty feet. Initial expressions of shock gave way to embarrassed grins (obviously, this was meant to be fun!) and off we all went for a “parade.” What we actually did was march round the narrow aisles of the exhibition hall (the sousaphone bell demolishing various overhanging signs), trailed by a very long crowd—three people abreast is the most those aisles can take. Then it was out of the building and over the street to a seemingly endless rendition of “When the Saints” while our audience clambered on to buses—the embarrassed grins had by now acquired a discernibly frozen quality. As far as the band was concerned, that was the end of the job, and the buses whisked the delegates away, to be force-fed their next “New Orleans” experience.

  Both the funeral and the convention center jobs are part of a working brass band musician’s routine, and both jobs paid about the same. In both cases, the bands played similar music. The crucial difference seems to me to be between the dignified ritual on Gentilly Boulevard, in which the mourners were participants, and the manufactured quality of the convention center parade, where the crowd were mystified onlookers.

  My point (at last!) is that the synergy between the band and the crowd is a more significant part of the brass band tradition than the style of music being played.

  Currently, there are probably more brass bands active in New Orleans than ever before. Exactly how many is uncertain, but twenty-five bands seems a reasonable estimate, and there are probably around a hundred and fifty musicians involved. Some bands’ personnel is more or less constant, but for others it’s a question of availability and budget, and the musicians change from job to job. New bands are being formed all the time, and the scene is constantly changing.

  This book is not intended to be a fully comprehensive survey, and the way things are, I don’t think that would be possible. There are no interviews here with the Hot 8, the Soul Rebels, or the Lil’ Rascals, and there are many others that I didn’t get around to. What I have tried to do is to trace major developments in the music over the last thirty years, and interview some of the key players. The information contained in the interviews records the musical evolution of the brass bands and the social and commercial pressures that caused these changes.