One genius piece of planning we've managed to plant in every year's tour is to spend not one or two days, but weeks, in New Orleans. This allows us to absorb the culture, so different from the suburban Denver and High Rockies environments we are used to. New Orleans is in some ways more reflective of the "real" world or the "rest of" the world, not only for it's proximity to the Caribbean (and by extension Latin America and Africa), but for the living conditions here themselves. It's hot, unstructured, slow and developing. Perfect for the dirty, percolating swamp music.
We have a theory, that because the air itself is thick here, certain sound frequencies can resonate more fully in a given room. True or not, the funk permeates. And "funk" is more than musical syncopation. Excuse the cliche, but funk is a lifestyle. To be funky is to express oneself, move smoothly but in-time, and to never, ever let others get you down. This is the true spirit of New Orleans.
The heat is a reminder that being funky takes hard work, sweat, without the presence of which no task would be worth undertaking. And so, for our first couple days in New Orleans, we had obstacles to overcome. Logistics are complicated in a city shaped like a crescent, sporting drive-thru daiquiri shops on each end of town.
Finding a place to rehearse was crucial. Our new drummer, Dax, has barely heard, much less played, much of our material which is both wide and deep in content. We have songs with bluegrass, reggae, rock, psychedelic and a number of other "feels" and drums are so kinetic, muscle memory is key. But in an act of synchronous artist altruism, our friend and amazing painter Frenchy let us use his studio for two days in a row for rehearsal. Beautiful.
Several gigs were booked before we arrived here in town, but more are always necessary. We've managed to pick-up a few, one a benefit for the Wetlands (a restoration project we care deeply about). Cash flow that determines how many stops we can make on the way home for shows is largely dependent on how hard we can get out there and hustle, convince clubs in a city that very much work on word-of-mouth that we are worth listening to, even booking on such short a notice. It's worked a couple times and it would appear Frogs will make it back to Denver, possibly with a little cash in hand.
Our host on Sauvage St., the oft bare-chested Steve-O, has a house located two blocks from the fairgrounds and as it turns out we can wake up and play our annual post-fest concert each night, right on Steve-O's driveway. Our trailer is tucked behind the stage, the mojitos will be mixed soon for sale next to the music, and we can hear the massive sound systems inside the fairgrounds being checked out now, hours before the fest is supposed to start. The electricity is tangible, neighbors were out all day yesterday, some working but most chatting and socializing like 3rd graders before a field trip.
We cleaned up the driveway and backstage (backyard), bought bottles, chalked some promo signage into the street in front of our guerilla venue and in a few hours, it'll be time to sound check our own PA in front of 1617 Sauvage St.
New Orleans is one place Frogs thrive. We do business online in the morning, practice during the day, and play shows or network at night. Things are centralized, it's a community. People remember us and our names and nicknames, even if we only come here once or twice a year. Good music endures, it's not about fads.
This morning a toothless neighbor named Ted walked up and introduced himself to one of us. We began to tell him our band name and he cut us off, reminding that he was cuttin' a rug at last year's guerilla concert. We can't wait to watch him do the same tonight.
