+ NOLA +
It was six years ago this week that I visited New Orleans for the first time. Labor Day weekend, 1999. The Afghan Whigs in a two night stand.
I fell in love with the city. The people I met, the crowded streets, and the quiet corners spoke to me like few places ever have. That weekend was the first time I spoke to Greg, Rick, and John – all briefly and in passing. My then girlfriend (now wife) and I met friends Rob and Betsy. We stayed in a Garden District boarding house. We walked for days, soaking in every bit of the culture and vibe that the city offered.
We listened to music constantly. It’s such an integral part of the New Orelans experience. You couldn’t escape it. From street corner horn players to the booming trunks of vintage Cadillacs, soul was everywhere.
Perhaps the saddest thing as I watch the news and see the city continuing to fall into chaos, is the obvious absence of music in the flooded, broken streets. There is only crying, gun shots, and the steady silence of death.
If you find the time, spin “Twilight as Played by the Twilight Singers” – now a haunting requiem for a lost place. And please, donate money, shelter or employment or anything you can spare to the effort to heal New Orleans and the Gulf Coast.