Forgive Me New Orleans, For I Have Sinned…
It was a stormy night,
You know the kind where lightin’ strike.
And I was hanging out with some of my artsy friends,
Oooh wee ooh wee oh..
Sorry, the Eykah Badu hit just so happens to be funneling in through the speaker at the moment. Truth be told, it was more of a typical New Orleans spring evening: muggy… very muggy. And while there was no sign of thunder or lightin’, there was a sound that did bring about that Oooh wee ooh wee oh feeling. There was a roll of trumpets and horns, and though there was no rumbling of thunder, the blare of tubas did seem to quake the scene in a familiar way. This was a storm of music known as The Brass Band Blowout, and if your no familiar with the local climate, you may find yourself ill prepared for the storm.
You see, since I have moved to New Orleans (and Louisiana, for that matter), I have fallen in love with many things that makes this place the cosmopolitan wonderland that it is. The food, the arts, and especially the music. I mean, I love all these different foreign things so much, that I place New Orleans near the top of my World’s Greatest Cities list (not that you really care). And while I’ve resided here for some time, people forget that I’m not a native. Here’s the story: Last night I attended the Brass Band Blowout at the House of Blues. The event was filled with all the things that make an event great: good friends, great drink prices, HOT women (some as a result of the great drink prices), and really good music. Or should I say, good foreign music. After I dropped my $20 bucks to get in, I met up with my homeboy and two lovely looking (and by lovely, I mean damn fine) old friends of mine. We had drinks, some laughs, and grooved to some great sounds. Promptly, at the one-hour mark after my arrival, I announced my departure. As usual, I got sour faces from my compadres from the abrupt bouncing on a good time. Was it the crowd? No. Too much to drink? Not possible. The company? Didn’t I mention that I was among some really hot friends? It was the music. Now, before everyone gets up in arms, understand that I love brass music. I attend shows, and even purchase music (a rarity for me in this bootleg friendly economy). As I found it hard to find the right words to explain my departure, my homeboy Wes came through with the most simple of statements. He said, “Ladies, you forget, Kenny ain’t from around here.” The statement was simple enough that even I got it. I’m not from here, and while I love and appreciate brass music, it’s not native to my ear.
This argument didn’t settle for all, as one of my lovely homegirls (I promise I’m gonna stop flirting with y’all) would reply, “And… I’m not from around here.” What she failed to understand is that brass bands are a delicacy to me. In fact it’s sushi, and man do I love sushi… on occasion. Oh well, back to the Marvin Gaye and Stevie Wonder albums.
Two stepping on my soapbox,
Kenny
Sorry so short… blame it on the drinks.
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