Lloyd Price

And on the second weekend, on the just and unjust alike: the rain. Where were you when the sky fell on Friday? I was standing without an umbrella, listening to Lloyd Price sing “Misty.” One friend caught the rest of that show from inside a dry porta-potty, looking through the little window. But as D.L. Menard philosophically opined on Sunday, while watching his mud-soaked waltzers slip around in a circle: “What do you expect? It’s Louisiana, it’s raining.”

—Michael Tisserand

 

Mud People

lt was over at the Ray-Ban stage that this trough of mud developed, and when Buckwheat Zydeco was playing people started dancing in it, making it deeper, so that by the time of Santana it was a small pond. Soon the mud started splattering up to other parts of the body, and that was as far as I intended to go, but when I came back to see the Neville Brothers, a woman whose face I had painted with mud was now covered head to toe, and I probably called her a name. Then I turned my back on her and walked away. And then I felt this strong pull on my shoulder—this is a very strong woman—and I felt myself being thrown headfirst into the mud.”

—Michael Tisserand

 

Raymond Myles

Although Raymond Myles reported that his first appearance at WWL/Ray-Ban was a sign of the Lord’s blessings for the gospel singer and his choir, the RAMS, his show seemed a little out-of-reach on the big stage. Maybe that’s why he launched a last-minute reprise at the end of the day that blew out the sides of the Gospel Tent.

—Michael Tisserand

 

Daniel Lanois

Daniel Lanois’ live set soared over an already-high set of expectations. New Orleans’ producer to the stars displayed his homespun guitar craft, a fais-do-do here and an eerie wives’ tale there, with each song switching out instruments visibly customized and numbered to match their coordinated effects. Lanois, drummer Brian Blade and bassist Daryl Johnson created such a somber stir that one friend wrong-headedly insisted that the band must have been employing pre-recorded backdrops. In addition to unveiling a host of new material, Lanois rendered a gorgeous “Love Is Blindness,” not coincidentally the crowning jewel of U2’s Achtung Baby, for which our man won a Grammy as co-producer.

—Jim Sullivan

 

Michael Ray

Michael Ray and his Cosmic Krewe assembled a tribute to Sun Ra that raised all feet in attendance from the rivulets of watery earth that encircled the Congo Square stage. Dubbed “Jazzfunk for the future,” Ray’s shortened but action-packed performance was boundary-erasing.

—Jim Sullivan

 

 

 

 

Watermelon Ritual

And, after Beau Jocque’s powerhouse set, when the musicians and stagehands paused to watch the saga of the “Watermelon Ritual” as it unfolded in front of the stage. The High Priest heaved his melon skyward at the culmination of the march; it shattered on the earth and the celebrants fell upon it, devouring the red flesh that wasn’t tainted with dirt.

—Keith Spera

 

Bob Dylan

The spirit was there during Bob Dylan’s set, as the skepticism born of reports that his performances were often a mess gave way to a collective realization, passed on with smiles and nods of approval, that today’s show was something special.

Dylan’s set on the first Friday set the tone. He came on ten minutes early, offered no hello, but immediately went to work, and stayed an extra 20 minutes, annunciating as clearly as Bob Dylan can. The highlights were many: an explosive “All Along the Watchtower,” spiked with plenty of pedal steel. A barely recognizable but glorious “Tangled Up in Blue.” An earnest, acoustic “Jim Jones” from his earnest, acoustic Good As I Been to You, his latest effort. “Everything is Broken” from Oh Mercy, recorded in New Orleans with Daniel Lanois at the helm. The Allmans’ Dickie Betts contributing slide work to a pair of numbers.

—Keith Spera

 

Carlos Santana-Neville

“Carlos Santana-Neville,” as he was identified by Cyril, joined the Nevilles for their encore, they redeemed a lukewarm opening when Charles and Carlos traded sax and guitar licks on “Fiyo on the Bayou.”

—Keith Spera

 

Rain Delay

Only God could have stopped the Rebirth Brass Band’s glorious, exhilarating set at the Jazz Tent; for whatever reason, He did, with a severe thunderstorm that shut down the entire Festival. Those packed inside the tent were unaware of the storm’s fury, and complained loudly when shouts for an encore went unheeded.

As the diehards streamed toward the exits, police cars moved slowly along the pathways, herding them out. The stragglers gleefully mimicked the high-pitch wail of the sirens; inside their cars, the police laughed and waved. Their task was a serious one—evacuate the Fair Grounds before approaching lightning claimed a victim—but the scene was ridiculous.

—Keith Spera