Unfortunately, I was down with very very bad cold and allergy symptoms last week (just awful! I actually stayed home sick from the church), so I had to miss the first of the weekly Lafayette Square concerts, which featured The Rads in yet another of their farewell appearances. But really, I'd've had to have been hospitalized to miss this week, with Trombone Shorty.
Yesterday was a gorgeous day, just what the Tourist Commission orders up for April -- blue skies, mild temperatures, sunshine, and low humidity -- and so Big Man and I decided to walk to the Square from our house in the lower Lower Garden District, a distance of a little over a mile each way. This is not something I would advise in, say, August, but it's perfectly feasible and even pleasant to do it in April. We carried our folding chairs and took our time about it, and arrived just the warm-up group, the Soul Rebels, were setting up.
We found a good spot near the middle and set up chairs up and then walked away to enjoy the people and the dogs, to check out whatever differences there were with the arrangements of the Square this year, and to decide on something to eat. It was still early yet, and so things hadn't gotten as crowded as they would get later, as the downtown offices shut down and more folks arrived. Everyone was in good spirits, and there was all the usual visiting and mingling and strangers passing the time of day with each other. Big Man and a black man in a sharp hat exchanged compliments with each other on their choices of headgear and on the high merits of the famous Meyer the Hatter store on St. Charles, and I got a nice word from a friend who hadn't seen me since my haircut.
We settled on chaurice on a stick from the New Orleans Sausage Company for Big Man -- however, when somebody came by and snapped a picture, it was ME taking a bite off of it. I'm sure *that* will be a very flattering photo! And I couldn't resist the duck po boy with spicy cole slaw at the Atchafalaya booth. Yummy!
The Soul Rebels were fun and very good. The crowd seemed to especially like the "504" song, celebrating, of course, the familiar and beloved NOLA area code. By the time the Rebels broke around 6-ish, the crowd had increased considerably, and it took patience, ingenuity, and courtesy to navigate one's way around and through. Still, everyone was in a jovial mood, filled with pleasant expectation.
Well, I've blogged about Shorty/Troy Andrews before, and if I gush too much, readers will think I have a crush on him. Let's just say his set was amazing, his band tight and talented, the tunes coming fast and furious and sometimes smoothly seguéing from one to another (to another). It seems there's nothing Shorty can't do -- he's great on trombone, amazing on his gorgeous Monette trumpet, serious on the keyboards, great on vocals. His stage presence just knocks you out, and -- let's face it -- he is one good-looking young man.
What a concert! It was amazing. Everyone staggering away when it was over, the last notes fading out form the surrounding buildings, was talking about how far Troy has come as a musician and as a performer, and each person tried to outdo all the others in using superlatives in describing what we all had just heard and seen. We were blessed to have been there,
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