Some of the greatest blues, well and jazz too since I’m mentioning it, that I’ve ever heard and seen played live was in New Orleans, Louisiana. That’s right, the big easy, home of the nation’s Mardi Gras capital for, well and of course the recent Super Bowl winners the New Orleans Saints. Wow, that city has a lot going on, huh? And before I go on, I want to point out that the great blues I heard was not during Mardi Gras but a regular old day during a regular old summer with regular old sweltering heat and humidity. I didn’t mind it though, and actually that was kind of a crazy summer of self discovery, but more on that later. For now I just want to stress the experience I had with the music that seemed to permeate that fevered afternoon. Even into the night I could feel it in the walls of my New Orleans hotel luxury suite.
The incredible musical adventure began at a place called the Funky Pirate on Bourbon Street. The club was on Bourbon Street, it wasn’t part of its name if that was confusing. Unfortunately I can’t remember the name of the guy playing that day and I have since tried to find out whom it was. All I remember is the feeling of near possession by the blues. I know that sounds made up or a little exaggerated but I’m not kidding or embellishing. That music got into me in a weird way and it’s still there. I honestly feel everything in my life a bit more intensely, like a haunted yet vibrant awareness flowing through me and my heart beats to a blues beat.
Oh, and I started to play the guitar after I can home from that trip. It’s almost like I had to or something. And it’s not that I’m striving to be as great as that guy or anything. I just have to play something I’m feeling. So far I’ve learned a few blues riffs and chords and it’s really satisfying just to sit and work though a progression.
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blues riffs · Funky Pirate · New Orleans hotel luxury suite
