Hamp Fest at St. Aug

NOTE:  I read recently that the most frequent post in a blog is the apology, "I'm sorry I haven't posted in a while" -- so I'm NOT going to say that!  Life happens, is all.

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It was such an honor to be at the St. Augustine fundraiser, the Hamp Fest  (appropriately named for the late great St. Aug Music Director Mr. Edwin Hampton), a 2-day festival of food & music held on the St. Augustine campus in the 7th Ward.

Big Man was booked to play in one of the bands opening for Morris Day & the Time on the second day of the festival, which just happened to be my birthday.  We arrived early, and just managed to find a legal and free parking space within a reasonable walking distance. (I understand that St. Aug arranges for a distant parking lot somewhere in the neighborhood and shuttles for the folks who use it, but that is not the best option for musicians carrying a lot of gear.)  

The artists' green room was like Old Home Week -- there were lots of called greetings and pointing and hugging and kissing back and forth. The Free Agents Brass Band and their family members were there, and Elaine Foster and her bandmates in ELS (doing their fabulous Whitney Houston tribute), the guys in Big Man's band (which is the same band he plays with on Bourbon Street several  nights a week), plus assorted liaison folks from St. Augustine and various other people.  The green room had food set out for the musicians, and it was, predictably, delicious:  fried chicken, fried catfish, barbecued chicken, greens, and a wonderful concoction that was like barbecued shrimp with sausage and potatoes in it (OMG).  There also was sliced cake, but when I saw it was store-bought, I decided to skip the calories and see what would be on offer later at the fest.  (Turned out to be a great decision, see  below.)

I came in for more than my share of positive attention, as Big Man made sure to tell everyone it was my 60th birthday. People said -- trying to be kind -- "You don't look 60!" thus giving me the chance to say, "This is what 60 looks like!"  I gathered hugs and kisses and compliments and was quite the happy woman.

First up on the stage was the brass band, with adults, young adults, and one or two youth players, plus a full Grand Marshall in a tan suit with matching decorated sash and umbrella.  At one point during their set, the marshall came off the stage to dance in and with the crowd, choosing the requisite number of pretty women and a couple of grandmothers -- one of whom "got jiggy with it" to the delight of the rest of the crowd, watching on the big screen set up next to the stage (and another one, as I found out, out by the food booths).

Once again  I am reminded of Why New Orleans Is Different. Watching little bitty kids and elderly folks dancing intricate steps and doing The Butt with the Grand Marshal, I was just overwhelmed with the feeling that such an age-diverse crowd would be unusual elsewhere, and then to have the range of folks not only dancing, but dancing HOT -- where else but here?  One lil boy was just barely out of toddlerhood, and he was killing the steps, as if he had exited the womb knowing how to dance like that.  What can I say?  I love this town.

Big Man and the band were terrific onstage, with a nonstop line-up  of beloved R&B and Motown hits, the 3 lead singers doing great elaborate synchronized steps, and Big Man and the sax player doing some steps of their own.  (No spins, though.)  It was a tight set, well played, lots of dancing by the crowd, and a standing  O afterward.  

Most of the band took this night as just another gig, and left soon after the set, but Big Man and I were very much aware of the honor and  opportunity this was -- like here we are, at *St. Augustine*!  So we stayed, which made us conspicuous, since with the exception of a couple of sound techs working the stage and the sound booth, we were the ONLY white people there.  I'm not exaggerating -- there were no other white folks.  We stuck out, believe you me.

Folks were very, very welcoming.  People came up to Big Man, complimenting him on his playing, and some of the men saying that back in the day they used to play trumpet in the St. Aug band, the mighty Marching 100.  Folks passed us in the crowd, nodding and smiling.  Some said, "How y'all doing?" and some asked warmly, "Y'all having fun?"  Big Man look he detected a few "WTF" looks from some folks but everyone without exception was friendly and welcoming and nice to us.  I did think it strange though -- for isn't the St. Aug Band one of THE highlights of the Carnival season?  Doesn't everyone on the parade route, whatever their color, get a thrill when the word passes down, "It's St. Aug!"?  Why wouldn't white folks want to support St. Aug?  Why were we the only white people there?

Because we stuck out so much, it was easy to find folks we know, or who know us.  Miss Loretta of Loretta's Cafe and Pralines in the Marigny had to come running over in her booth to kiss Big Man on the cheek (he's a regular at her place), and she insisted on me taking a praline cupcake for my birthday.  (Boy, was I glad I didn't eat the junk grocery-store cake earlier in the green room!  The cupcake with the rich creamy praline icing was off the hook!)  The folks at the Vaucresson Sausage booth passed some time with us, talking about their post-K business (they are actually leasing space and time in a *competitor's sausage factory!  I think I wrote about this back in 2007 or 2008), and "forced" me to taste a small piece of their signature Creole hot sausage, the traditional chaurice, which was totally amazing.  All the food there looked great and there was a wide variety.

The way it works is, tickets to the Fest are $40 per person per night.  This gets you inside, and enables you to set up your own chair to watch all the music, and both nights the line-up of bands and musicians is well worth the price.  There are both inside air-conditioned and clean portalets available.  Then, all your drinks and food are separate.  It could total up pretty high if you were hungry and thirsty, but since it's all for a good cause, it's not too onerous.

Morris Day & The Time were late coming onstage (Big Man joked that when they did their well-known call-and-response, "What time is it?" we should shout back,  "It's LATE!"), but we managed to stay for a good part of the set.  They were great, the beat had the crowd rockin', Morris Day kept admiring himself in the gold-framed mirror (I couldn't believe he was still doing that shtick), we danced in the crowd, and a good time was had by all.  

We got home about 1 am, which is normal for Big Man but a big night for me (because I'm 60, don't you know).