Before it happened, I mean, before IT happened, I was at Vaughn's on Thursday night standing amazed in the presence of Troy Andrews. They call him Trombone Shorty because he started playing with his brother James at such a young age. He just might have been the youngest second line player ever, I don't know.
And there were so many "New Orleans Moments" that night (and New Orleans moments can be great or they can be terrible, it just depends) that it seems silly to pick out just one as the thing that demonstrates just WHY NOLA is "special."
Let me go back to a week or so before when I went to hear Soul Rebels at Le Bon Temps--you cannot possibly name me another city in America where hip young cool things showed up to dance to a BRASS BAND. You just can't. They were dancing like the kids in Atlanta dance to hip hop, but it was to trombone, trumpet, sousaphone...yeah. I am not making that up. And they got it, too. It wasn't cute, it wasn't trendy, it was NEW ORLEANS, baby, it was COOL. It would be there before the kids were born and it would be there long after they were gone (assuming IT hasn't killed that spirit).
So move ahead, back to Vaughn's on Thursday night. Vaughn's is (was?) legendary for its Thursday night sessions where, so I'm told, Kermit Ruffins would show up late, play all night, and somebody would bring in barbeque to feed the faithful.
This is Kermit. He is cooler than the top of Mt. Washington.
And Vaughn's itself is tiny. When I first went there on a Sunday afternoon, before I had moved to NOLA, it was at the moment that I was walking into Vaughn's that I knew, "This city will be my home."
Someone was putting out a bunch of junk on the sidewalk outside a home; a sink with a hole in it, a tarnished copper kettle with no lid, a dollhouse that looked like it had (prophetically) been hit by a hurricane, some old quilts...and the woman hung a sign that said, "FREE STUFF."
Free stuff, indeed.
I needed some cash so I went to the corner grocery (and you better know it, if there's one great thing about NOLA it is [was] the corner grocery, because every neighbourhood has them, and a lot of them serve hot food and PoBoys) because they had a sign that said "ATM" outside. I went in and wandered around, but I saw no machine. I asked the man at the register where was the machine and he said, "No machine." I had to do some finagling and then he gave me money from the register. THAT is an ATM in New Orleans.
So now, having turned down free stuff and used the invisible ATM, I walked to the door of Vaughn's and...couldn't get in. I had to be buzzed in. That was a first. You know, I had NEVER been buzzed in to a bar before. Yeah, that was a New Orleans moment.
So Vaughn's on this last Thursday night before IT happened had a good crowd, like Le Bon Temps, young hipsters who were dancing and grooving to Troy's band. I mentioned it before but Troy is a genius. Troy Andrews is Spiderman. Troy is just a brilliant musician who knows everything. The music was the best I've ever heard, energy, art, and technique married together, Troy playing trumpet, trombone, bass, drums, singing, conducting...Troy was Louis Prima, Troy was Satchmo, Troy was every genius wonderkind who ever lived. At this tiny club. On a Thursday. That was a New Orleans moment, people. You can always, always hear the best musicianship on earth for 10 bucks in my city. Or you could, I guess.
I was drinking my blessed Dixie. Whatever anybody says about Dixie, and shit probably most of the criticisms are valid, I would never refuse one. Dixie is New Orleans, the run-down brewery, the lack of care, the uniqueness...
And at some point, between sets, the door to Vaughn's opened and two men walked in carrying giant steel pots, one filled with red beans, one filled with rice. You don't pay for this. They're just feeding you, you know, cause you might be hungry. It wasn't the barbeque I had heard about, but this was better. This was NOLA. I don't need barbeque when I have red beans.
At last my time came to go. I had been in heaven from the moment I walked in and I will cherish the brilliance I was treated to for the rest of my life. James Andrews put in a cameo for good measure, showing his brother that there's more than one horn player in the family--and that too was a New Orleans moment. You simply never know when someone will just appear, his horn under his arm, and start playing. There is no other city like that on earth.
Troy was still playing when I made my way to the door--and for some reason he looked up and saw me. I looked at him and gave him my "prayer hands" in thanks for his brilliance, and he smiled and nodded.
I had two other New Orleans moments that will live with me forever before this. Both were at Donna's on separate Sunday nights. The first was when I ended up talking trumpet with Kermit, as if I had any business doing that, and the second was talking with Shannon Powell when there was almost nobody else in the club, and then when I left he threw his arm around me and thanked me for coming. Shannon Powell--you probably don't know that he was Harry Connick's drummer on some of Connick's biggest selling albums. He is a freaking legend, as gifted a drummer as you will ever hear anywhere, and he was thanking ME. As if.
And as if for any reason Troy Andrews should note me leaving Vaughn's, but he did, and it hit me so hard: My God, I cannot even tell anyone how much I love New Orleans.
Trombone Shorty. Troy. ET. The Brother from Another Planet.
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