My day started with a merguez from Jamila’s on a tip from the Times-Picayune‘s Brett Anderson (who took my tip on Guil’s Gator), and it was an excellent sausage sandwich. The sausage was complexly spiced with a little heat that crept up on you, with a gentle relish that never threatened to overpower the sausage.

Glen David Andrews says he only plays Jackson Square when he needs money, but the street is still strong in him, and he put the street on the Jazz and Heritage Stage. At one point he had a Mardi Gras Indian and members of a social aid and pleasure club dancing onstage – a second line, but one that stayed in one place.

The best use of the video screens at Jazz Fest came during Richard Thompson’s set, showing us his hands as he made the music of two or three acoustic guitars come out of one. The revelation was how unhurried it all looked, particularly his left hand as his right hand flatpicked holding the pick with his thumb and index finger, and fingerpicked with ring finger and pinky. But knowing how he does it doesn’t change what’s great about Thompson’s music, which is his melodic sense. There may be superior technicians, but they never wrote “1952 Vincent Black Lightning.”

Art Neville’s set was dominated by old New Orleans R&B, and what surprised me was how rarely we hear that sound at Jazz Fest. Admittedly, many of its practitioners are passing, but even they didn’t sound this classic, with the beat, the simplicity and the space that made these songs beautiful the first time around.

When rain kicked up during Terence Blanchard’s performance of A Tale of God’s Will (A Requiem for Katrina) as ominous, but it wasn’t. We were in no danger of flooding, and the hard rain soon passed. But strip away the documentary and even the post-K context and you’re still left with a beautiful piece of music – maybe a little too earnest, but I’ll take someone who errs on the side of commitment to ambitious idea, particularly when it remains this lyrical.

As I approached the Acura Stage for Stevie Wonder, I encountered heavy traffic going the opposite direction. People were pouring out, grumbling about how slow it was. This is the problem with booking major (or once major) artists – they have minds of their own and frequently aren’t that inclined to be jukeboxes. I can’t blame them. “I Just Called to Say I Love You” was recorded in 1984, and who wants to be the same person they were 24 years ago? Have the same job? The same haircut? The same boyfriend/girlfriend/husband/wife? Think the same thoughts?

As I type, it’s a monsoon outside. If we get a rain-out, I blame myself. Last year, I was scheduled to interview Tony Joe White, and we were one of the few sets that was entirely cancelled. Today I’m scheduled to interview Ruthie Foster and Alejandro Escovedo.