My original intention was to write a column about Mardi Gras, the bliss of masquerading, the cult of public nudity and joie de vivre. But then, there we were, at Bultman Funeral Home, standing before my friend Nauman Scott’s coffin, in front of which was his 1961 Fender Stratocaster guitar (the one with the pin-up girl decal), his cane and his brother Hammond, who said, “Can you believe this?!”
It was very hard to believe that Nauman was gone. He died in his sleep at his Uptown home on Tuesday, January 8. Nauman and Hammond were the founders of Black Top Records, a now defunct label responsible for some of the greatest blues recordings ever captured on tape—works by Earl King, Snooks Eaglin, Anson Funderburgh, Nappy Brown, James “Thunderbird” Davis and many others. Nauman was a Southern gentleman, a successful lawyer, a dedicated collector, a connoisseur of life and shocked by the business ethics of the record industry. The last time we spoke, Nauman told me, “When I was practicing law, I did multi-million dollar deals based on my word. I learned that in the record business, your word, your signature, your handshake, your contract—none of it means anything.”
Life is so fleeting—all you can do is laugh at the human comedy, marvel at God’s creations and man’s refinements. The perfect wristwatch. The mischievous grin. A steak from Ruth’s Chris. Crown Royal. Cigarettes. Wit and sarcasm. Fine guitar solos, fine books, fine automobiles and fine women. These were the things Nauman loved.
Because of Nauman, I was afforded many luxurious opportunities I would have never otherwise experienced. I designed album covers for Black Top and our photo sessions often included bathing beauties, smoking guns and smoking cars. During the ’80s, Nauman invested in Wavelength magazine, just because he wanted to make sure that Jeff Hannusch and I would get paid. He commissioned me to draw, for his friend Linda Ronstadt, a portrait of her and Aaron Neville, posing in the subtropical environs of the Thirteenth Ward. Another commission paid for my honeymoon in Jamaica.
Once, I was recruited to drive Nauman’s Mercedes roadster down St. Charles Avenue to Canal Street. The weather was perfect, the top was down and I passed two attractive women I knew on the way. Sometimes, Nauman made you feel like a million bucks.
So, knowing Nauman and his fondness for Mardi Gras (there was a childhood photograph of him costumed as a Carnival ball page on display at his wake), I would like to reiterate the motto of Momus—“Dum vivimus, vivamus” (“While we live, let us live”)—and run the accompanying photograph of an unknown, comely woman on Mardi Gras, declaring her free will. Dig it, Nauman.
The King’s Daughter
Lisa Marie Presley, the only child of Elvis and the former bride of Michael Jackson, has recently been in New Orleans, where her boyfriend Nicolas Cage has been shooting a movie. The couple, accompanied by three bodyguards, caught Ninth Ward blues guitarist Joe “Survival” Caruso’s set at the Spotted Cat. Caruso’s band includes eminent saxophonist George Fortier, drummer Wallace Lester and Gentilly bassist Skinny Dynamo, in dark 501 jeans and a vintage gabardine cowboy shirt, playing his 1974 Fender Precision bass (Skinny leaves his 1953 Precision, manufactured under the personal supervision of Leo Fender, at home). Lisa Marie was wearing a tight black sweater, black platform boots and a black leather micro-miniskirt. According to Mr. Dynamo, the skirt was so short that “I had to keep turning my eyes away because I would’ve been blinded by her rising sun.”
During the Yuletide holidays, Chicago blues guitarist Buddy Guy, a native of Lettsworth, Louisiana, came home to the Bayou State (and the Baton Rouge/Port Allen area in particular), accompanied by his guitarist brother Phil and his bassist daughter Rashawnna, and did some jamming with various musical members of the Neal family (Kenny, Raful and Li’l Ray) and our own harpist extraordinaire J. Monque’D. While we’re on the subject of Central Louisiana, blues pianist and longtime Howlin’ Wolf accompanist Henry Gray, who hails from Scotlandville, will deliver a rare recital at the Howlin’ Wolf on February 23.
Former New Orleanian Scott Kinnebrew, now residing in Asheville, North Carolina, and leading the “certifiable Stomp Rag Boogie” Scrappy Hamilton, returns to the Mermaid Lounge on February 9, for a joint performance with the New Orleans Klezmer Allstars. The Klezmers’ Rob Wagner makes a guest appearance on Scrappy’s new Stay On Target CD.
Angelic
Our Lifetime Achievement Award winner Pete Fountain was as surprised as anyone when his son Kevin, who had previously shown no interest in songwriting, composed “Angels in the Morning,” a tribute to the victims of the September 11th terrorist attacks. So, like any proud father, Pete joined in the recording session, produced and arranged by Allen Toussaint (also playing the keyboards), accompanied by vocalist Luther Kent, drummer Herman LeBeaux, bassist Chris Severin and guitarist Bill Solley. To quote Kevin’s lyrics, “Hurricane is blowing—it’s red, white and it’s blue/A message to all you terrorists—we’re coming after you.”
Be Somebody Else
Now if you want to really want to enjoy yourself immensely and simultaneously disturb the world’s fundamentalists (be they Islamic or Baptist), wear an outrageous costume on Mardi Gras. It’s your patriotic duty!
