I was acquainted with Ernie K-Doe for many years, first encountering the man around 1965 at a “Teen Fair” held at the defunct Jung Hotel on Canal Street. Vic Despenza, who managed K-Doe, Irma Thomas and Benny Spellman at the time, had a booth at the event and his clients were in attendance signing autographs.

Being a typical 14-year-old resident of this area, I was under the impression that the universe revolved around New Orleans and that K-Doe, Thomas and Spellman were millionaire rock stars. In reality, my middle-class Metairie existence was probably far grander than the circumstances of these three great singers.

Of course, K-Doe’s “reality” was always a grandiose figment of his imagination. I once had a conversation with James Brown and I was struck by how much he sounded like K-Doe. Brown told me that he’d just performed for an audience of “several million” at a single concert in Europe. Never mind that there is no facility in the world that holds “several million” people—that’s what James Brown thought. And it was inconceivable that anyone would question James Brown. Or Ernie K-Doe. Perhaps the key to reaching legendary status is convincing your own brain that you are indeed a legend.

In 1985, when cable television first arrived in New Orleans, Cox Cable hired me to host a live, daily talk show, Da Vic and Nat’ly Show. Since I had absolutely no television experience, I thought this was a brilliant idea. For the very first show, my guests were K-Doe and my best friend (and later, Best Man) Hammond Scott, record producer and, at the time, Assistant District Attorney. The initial show was on Hammond’s birthday so the day before, I bought some foam rubber and made a birthday cake out of the spongy material. After icing the cake, I stuck one of those little bobbing hula dancers and a bunch of candles on top.

Another close friend, Barbara Hoover, was pressed into service as my “Vanna White,” showing up in a strapless evening gown. I believe this was the only time in history Ms. Hoover has worn a dress in public.

We lit the cake’s candles and as K-Doe sang “Happy Birthday,” Barbara presented the cake to Hammond. The candles ignited the hula dancer and K-Doe began yelling: “The lady’s on fire! Burn, K-Doe, burn!” The studio started filling with smoke, Hammond put out the fire, K-Doe eyed Barbara lasciviously (this was long before the arrival of his future bride Antoinette) and I handed Hammond a knife, with which he attempted—rather unsuccessfully—to cut into the foam rubber cake. It was like a birthday party designed by Salvador Dali.

The wonderful thing about K-Doe was that even though he was appearing on a local, cable television show, he performed (lip-synching to a cassette of “Mother-In-Law” on my boom-box) and hammed as if I was Ed Sullivan or Johnny Carson. One of the lessons I learned from K-Doe was humility is for losers and Buddhists.

On the evening of March 25, 2000, K-Doe and a contingent of young associates—the Rubber Maids, the McGillicuddys, Egg Yolk Jubilee, Fireball Rockett and Quintron—staged a concert at the Mother-In-Law Lounge that will forever be etched into my cerebrum as a transcendental experience. The place—about the size of the average bedroom—was crammed to nearly ten times its capacity. The temperature was very, very hot. The patrons were my age, my elders and kids the same age as my kids. Whites and blacks. Ex-hippies and ex-punks. R&B fanatics and B&D fetishists. Bettie Page lookalikes and victims of bad tattoo artists. We were all drenched in sweat, gasping for oxygen, loving ever second. And K-Doe ruled!

Sometimes, K-Doe looked like the most feeble old man. Then the minute his hand touched a microphone, K-Doe was a cocky teenager, exploding like an H-bomb and radiating his musical power through every mortal soul in the vicinity. Pablo Picasso created masterpieces when he was 90 and K-Doe was creating his own flamboyant masterpieces, as well as inspiring a whole new generation of music lovers, until the very end.

HOT CHOCOLATE

Whereas the Meters were the New Orleans version of Booker T. & the MG’s, Chocolate Milk was the Crescent City rejoinder to Earth Wind & Fire. On August 10, Chocolate Milk’s original members (including lead vocalist Frank Richard, trumpeter/vocalist Joe Foxx, saxophonist/vocalist Amadee Castanell, guitarist Mario Tio and percussionist Kenneth “Afro” Williams) will reunite at Rhythm City in Gert Town. All you young funksters who dig Galactic’s cover of “Action Speaks Louder Than Words” should come out and witness the band that originated the song.

BON VOYAGE, KIM

Raconteur/artist/composer Kim Fowley, producer of the Murmaids’ 1963 “Icicles and Popsicles” (the most beautiful rock song ever recorded; written by David Gates of Bread), has departed New Orleans for California, declaring: “Hey—it’s better than siting around the U.K. waiting for the next Oasis, in Detroit looking for the new MC5 or in New York City seeking the new Lou Reed…need we mention the futility of trying to find the next Louis Armstrong in New Orleans.” Of course, don’t be surprised if Kim does find the next Louis Armstrong and she turns out to be a 16-year-old Japanese girl, born and raised on a chicken farm in Nebraska.

DEAD AND/OR ALIVE

The Improvisational Arts Council, the local band of avant-garde sonic extremists, will commemorate the anniversary of Jerry Garcia’s death (August 9, 1995) by performing a three-hour rendition of “Dark Star” at Carrollton Station with special guest star Leigh Harris, bass clarinetist Chris Kohl and minor celebrity Bob Weird. According to IAC guitarist Mark Fowler: “It’s really just a scam to get the Uptown reefer-heads to come and hear us play.” The Council will also be providing the music for Stan Brakhage’s silent film Sexual Meditations at the Zeitgeist on August 3.

NEUTRALITY

After briefly closing its doors, the Neutral Ground has reopened under the ownership of musician Philip Melancon, who has often performed at the club and its predecessor, the Penny Post Coffeehouse. Philip plans to continue the policy of “open mic” evenings. For bookings, telephone 504-899-6062 or email Philip at [email protected].

ICELANDIC GOSPEL

Pretty much all I know about Iceland is that it produced Björk. Amazingly, the Gospel Sisters of Reykjavik, a contingent of nearly 70 Icelandic gospel singers (seriously—this is not an August Fools joke), are headed to New Orleans for a concert on August 25 at the Gentilly Baptist Church. The event, coordinated by James Blackmon, leader of the Crescent City Community Choir (a.k.a. C4), is certain to be an unusual cross-mingling of cultures, especially considering that the Icelandic singers are hitting town during the most tempestuous month of the year. C4, comprised of Blackmon, Jessica Cole, Evelyn Derry, Grady Derry, Michelle McCray, Ruth Calioan and 14-year-old sensation Shelly Moffett, will also be performing. Meanwhile, Blackmon is looking for 25 gospel singers (or groups) to accompany him to Switzerland (birthplace of Louis Armstrong’s favorite laxative) in late November for a series of concerts. There’s no monetary remuneration although your airfare and lodging will be provided free of charge and gospel performers are encouraged to hawk their own CDs (or trade ’em for cool Swiss wristwatches). Auditions can be arranged by dialing 504-522-5231.