He was the bespectacled white kid from the suburbs trying to sit in with musical legends in New Orleans. But instead of getting the cold shoulder, drummer Stanton Moore was welcomed on the bandstand by any number of prominent players. And the crowd dug him, too.

Stanton Moore Trio, Thurs., May 28, 8 p.m., Crowbar, Ybor City. $10.

“To tell you the truth, when I was coming up and they’d let me sit in, the regulars at the bar would be, ‘Listen to the white kid,’” Moore says by cell phone on his way to a recording session in the Crescent City. “They’d be dancing and egging me on. They were real supportive.”

It probably wouldn’t have gone quite so well if young Stanton had sucked. But from an early age, he committed to learning the distinctive, tricky and at times peculiar nuances of the New Orleans drumming style. (See his video demonstrations at the bottom of this post.)

“I had a great guy who taught me the basic rudiments,” Moore says. “But it was a real challenge to go from that to learning from [storied NOLA drummer Johnny Vidacovich] to loosen up. But I was determined. I really worked on how to loosen it up and apply it to my drum set.”

The first intangible any aspiring Crescent City-style drummer must absorb is to, Moore says, “Play between the cracks, play with a feel that is not always straight and not always swing, but somewhere in between. The time doesn’t move, but the phrasing moves, and you have to make it organic.”

While he had any number of teachers and folks around the city willing to teach him a technique her, a trick there, Moore established a good deal of his mastery via his own efforts. “I really had to kind of create my own program to teach myself, and I came up with certain things and would work doggedly on them,” he explains. “Like I would set the metronome on straight 16th notes and start to work in between the beats, go from straight to swing and back. I worked on my development as pragmatically as possible.”

His efforts have paid off. Moore is best known as the stickman and co-founder of the New Orleans funk-jam band Galactic but he also plays in myriad other groups (Garage a Trois and Midnite Disturbers among them) and gets regular calls for session work. (In fact, when we spoke, he was about to head into the studio with Alec Ounsworth of Clap Your Hands Say Yeah. The indie rocker had asked Moore to assemble a band, and the drummer had recruited keyboardist Robert Walter and Big Easy mainstay George Porter on bass.)

Moore also has also released four albums under his own name, the latest of which is the trio recording Emphasis (on Parenthesis) (Telarc). With Walter and guitarist Will Bernard, he plays riffy instrumental tunes built around the energized syncopation indigenous to the Crescent City. (Moore will play a trio gig at Crowbar on Thursday, May 28, with guitarist Shane Theriot replacing Bernard.)

When leading their own bands in the studio, drummers have a basic decision to make: How much of this project is going to feature me vs. it being an ensemble piece? “When I’m making a record under my own name, I really don’t think of it in terms of, ‘OK, how much of the drums do I want to showcase?’” Moore says. “I think of the album as a body of music, a record with my name on it. I get to play drum solos in most of the projects I’m in, so I get my fill of that. I’m really not the type of drummer who likes to show off all the hot licks I learned in my bedroom.”

Sometimes, drummer/leaders can become so self-effacing that they end up mere timekeepers on their own sessions. It’s gratifying to report that Moore does not fall prey to Disappearing Drummer Syndrome. His playing on Emphasis is aggressive, pushed prominently in he mix, and he plays his share of short solos and breakbeats. But his approach is to keep it all within the context of the groove, that slippery, intoxicating Big Easy groove.

Over the course of his roughly 15-year recording career, Moore has established himself as the peoples’ expert on NOLA drumming. He’s written a book on the topic titled Taking it to the Street, with an accompanying CD, pens columns in drum magazines, and is an in-demand educator at drum clinics and festivals.

Keyboardist Walter sums up Moore’s role like this: “To me, in the context of New Orleans drumming, he’s a fan of the tradition and the history, but he’s found a way to put that through the filter of the modern world. He grew up at the same time as me, listening to rock and hip-hop, but he’s got all the knowledge of the New Orleans style. He’s able to present that package in a digestible way, for people who may not be so immersed in the tradition. He’s marketed this great folk music to the masses.”

Stanton Moore playing funk with a horn band.

Stanton Moore demonstrating New Orleans drums fills.

Stanton Moore playing a classic second line groove with a band.

Allen Toussaint: The Bright Mississippi (Nonesuch)

I’ve long been aware of Allen Toussaint as a New Orleans treasure, a prolific songwriter, magic-touch producer and arranger, and solo artist with a rather middling voice. I knew he played piano, but did not know he was such a bad, bad man at the keyboard.

I do now.

The Bright Mississippi, produced by Toussaint’s friend and frequent collaborator Joe Henry, is nothing short of a revelation, an album of instrumentals (save one vocal) that both honors and reinvents a number of songs associated with early New Orleans blues and jazz: Sidney Bechets’ “Egyptian Fantasy,” Jellyroll Morton’s “Winin’ Boy Blues,” Joe Oliver’s West End Blues,” and traditionals “St. James Infirmary” and “Take a Closer Walk With Thee,” to name a handful.

Toussaint and his dream band — trumpeter Nicholas Payton, clarinetist Don Byron, acoustic guitarist Marc Ribot, bassist David Piltch and drummer Jay Bellerose — play the songs with an expansive ease, rather than employing tightly wound improvisational free-for-alls often referred to as Dixieland. One of the album’s charms, though, is the clattering, march-style drums heard on a number of the full-ensemble pieces (”Singin’ the Blues,” Monk’s “Bright Mississippi”), imbuing them with an antique quality.

Toussaint has expert command of the Crescent City piano style handed down through the generations, and can deliver the rolling chords, blues-drenched licks, trills and cascades that are its defining elements, but he also has a songwriter’s sense of melody and a jazzbo’s feel for harmony that enables him to transcend the keyboard colloquialisms.

On a few songs, Henry and Touissant split the ensemble into smaller units, with terrific results, especially on a midnight version of Ellington’s “Daydream,” a piano/tenor sax duet with Joshua Redman. The horn players lay out on Django Reinhardt’s “Blue Drag,” allowing Ribot and Toussaint to play their instrumental elegance off of each other, and then the rhythm section steps aside for “Solitude,” making for an album-closing piano/guitar duet that concludes the disc in radiantly romantic fashion.

No matter how hard we might try, family gatherings and holiday season don’t always add up to joyous — or even peaceful — experiences. But when the Trucks clan joined forces for their Soul Stew Revival bash at Tampa Theatre on Monday, a near capacity crowd of around 1,400 witnessed domestic bliss at its finest. The jubilant vibe, marked by expert musicianship, permeated the ancient venue. If the rumors are true about the historic movie house being haunted, even the ghosts must have been grinning.

The gnat’s-ass-tight gang of musicians mesmerized with gorgeous executions of the timeworn tension-and-release dynamic. It’s a God-send rooted in the churches of the Deep South, one that was sold with aplomb to the secular world by the likes of Ray Charles, James Brown and Aretha Franklin. The Allman Brothers Band, Derek Trucks’ chief employer, then expanded the sonic presentation with Kind of Blue-indebted jazz elements in the late 1960s. Decades later, the holy tradition thrives, coming together wonderfully Monday night at Tampa Theatre.

Trucks, a 29-year-old slide guitar master, and his band, were joined by his soul singing (and pretty damn good ax player herself) wife Susan Tedeschi for an awesomely old-school R&B revue goosed with jam band touches. A three-man horn section, two drummers (one being Derek’s younger bro Duane), a percussionist, bassist and keyboardist who doubled as a flautist for one number (think Astral Weeks and save the Jethro Tull jokes) filled the stage. The formidable ensemble, which featured members of Tedeschi’s and Trucks’ individual bands, melded terrifically. 

Photo of Tedeschi and Trucks, from a previous performance, courtesy of Flickr. 

Nuanced blues belter Tedeschi traded vocals with Derek Trucks Band singer Mike Mattison and his delightfully deep growl while Trucks eased in and out with delicious guitar fills before unleashing spellbinding solos. A lengthy rendition of Aaron Neville’s soul stirrer “Hercules” featured the mixed gender, multi-racial group at its fiercest, with every single person on stage nailing a solo. Tedeschi’s vocals were fiery and her hubby’s extended, experimental solo was slack-jaw inducing.

The Lee Boys’ Roosevelt Collier, a Floridian who ranks as the best pedal steel guitarist this side of Robert Randolph, sat in for a couple number including a killer cover of The Band’s “The Weight.” It’s the same song that gave me chills when Trucks brought his wife on stage to sing it at New Orleans Jazz Fest last year. With Collier adding extra sweetness, the encore capped an excellent evening of gimmick-free music staked in emotive, masterful musicianship — an increasingly rare commodity these days. More importantly, Trucks and Tedeschi put across a completely contagious sense of, well, happiness. And that’s something we could all use this season. Especially this season.

My favorite yearly music bash, the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Fest, just announced its lineup for 2009 and I’m stoked about Aretha Franklin headlining the second weekend, April 30-May 3, which I annually attend. I’ve never seen the Queen of Soul and can’t imagine a better place than the Big Easy for it to finally happen.

Other acts on my must-see list for that weekend include Tony Bennett, The Neville Brothers, Bonnie Raitt, Common, Emmylou Harris (huge fan, never seen her before), Dr. John, Buddy Guy, Los Lobos, Toots & the Maytals, Allen Toussaint, John Mayall (he’s pretty cool live), Solomon Burke, Doc Watson, Jakob Dylan (more out of curiosity), Chuck Brown, Guy Clark, Cedric Burnside & Lightnin’ Malcolm.

Check out some of my Jazz Fest coverage from last year.

Soul Rebels, which I wrote about last year while at Jazz Fest, and other killer New Orleans acts after the jump.

The Crescent City acts I plan to squeeze into my schedule during the weekend: Soul Rebels, Radiators Aaron Neville, Tab Benoit & the Wetland Allstars, Ellis Marsalis, Kermit Ruffins & the Barbecue Swingers, Dirty Dozen Brass Band, Walter “Wolfman” Washington & the Roadmasters, the subdudes, Irvin Mayfield & the New Orleans Jazz Orchestra, Bonerama.

For years, rock and rap had largely forged an unholy alliance thanks to such clown acts as Limp Bizkit. But that’s changed (thanks God!) with forward-thinking young groups like Gym Class Heroes and the most brilliant new hip-hop act of 2008, The Knux. Comprised of brothers Krispy Kream and Rah Al Millio, the sibling duo was born and raised in New Orleans but their sound, style and ethos has more in common with Atlanta stalwarts Outkast than anything to emerge from under the Cash Money umbrella.

On their debut disc Remind Me in 3 Days…, The Knux alternate between odes to everyday pleasures (”Cappuccino”) and the reality of living in a city as famous for its murder rate as it is for good times (”Bang! Bang!”). Those two songs are blowing up on MySpace thanks to their use of big beats, awesomely wacky synths and glossy guitars, the latter of which figure even more prominently on other numbers like “Roxanne” (no, it’s not a Police cover) and reportedly in the duo’s live shows, which featured a band when The Knux first created a buzz opening for Common in late 2007. When The Knux came through Florida recently and played Orlando, they supported Q-Tip. Yeah, Krispy Kream and Rah Al Millio are two extremely talented MCs/musicians who are smartly associating themselves with the upper crust of the old guard. 3.5 stars.

The Knux: “Bang! Bang!”

Last night, right before we watched the new Big Lebowski double-DVD set, my brother Joel informed me that Aaron Neville didn’t make Rolling Stone’s list of Top 100 Singers.

I told Joel that’s crazy, the Crescent City big man with the angelic voice had to have made the cut.

And then I took a look for myself this morning. Goddamn, no Neville! I’m outraged.

Few singers have made me dry my eyes. Neville is one of them. I’ve heard him to do Sam Cooke’s “A Change is Gonna Come” twice in concert. Manly tears both times.

Photo of Aaron Neville at New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival 2008 by Wade Tatangelo.

Aaron Neville: “A Change is Gonna Come”

My Creative Loafing coworker Leilani, her husband Phil and friend Alex, the three people I drove with to New Orleans two weeks ago for Jazz Fest, had a much different experience on Frenchmen Street than I did. You can read about my Saturday night revelry in the Bar Tab column “Up, up and away: Balloons, bars and bands in the Big Easy.” Leilani visited the same entertainment district on Thursday. Here’s her account, posted yesterday on CL’s Blurbex blog.

Adventures in NOLA, Episode 1: Thursday Night on Frenchmen

May 13th, 2008 by Leilani in Elsewhat, For the People A little more than a week after returning home from New Orleans, I’ve finally recovered enough to reflect on my experiences.

We meander down Frenchmen Street casually seeking a place to eat. Me, my husband Phil, and our good friend Alex are three revelers among several hundred soaking up the festive atmosphere and cheerful chaos created by a citywide celebration of good times and great music. It’s the second weekend of the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival, sometime around 11 at night, and the vibe is laid back in such a way that I hadn’t seen since my first Jazz Fest in ’05, the one before Katrina.

People crowd the sidewalks and spill out into the streets, some standing in disorderly lines outside the range of bars and clubs, waiting to get ID’d and stamped or wristbanded, others flocking to see a many-piece brass band that has set up right at a crossroads and is playing the sort of lively, Creole-infused jazz you only hear in New Orleans. The performance has caused a traffic gridlock, the vehicles barely able to move around the crush of bodies having a joyous, spontaneous party in the street.

Everyone is having a grand old time. Even the cops seem to be in good spirits; we pass a pair who are patiently dealing with a sloppy drunk frat-looking guy. “Move along,” says one with a long suffering look and a gentle push. Frat Guy’s not catching the hint and in fact, turns around and holds out his hand, slurring to the cops, “Dudes, let’s shake it out. Can we shake it out?”

“Keep walking,” says Sgt. Long Suffering, more sternly this time and with a forbidding look at Frat Guy’s friends, who start tugging, then dragging him and cajoling him urgently, “Let’s go, man, come on.” We slide around the scene, exchanging amused looks, and make our way a few blocks down and over to grab dinner and drinks at a little bar called Mojo’s on Decatur Street. Once we’ve fueled up, we head back to Frenchmen to see Jacob Fred Jazz Odyssey at d.b.a.

d.b.a. is a snobby beer bar that prides itself on its selection of imported ales, brews and domestic microbrews. It’s the sort of place where you ask for a Budweiser and get a patronizing “We don’t carry that” retort from the bartender. Not that any of us drink Bud, or are even drinking beer at all tonight. Stoli and cran for me and Alex, Maker’s on the rocks for Phil.

The bar is all dark wood paneling and it’s split in half, one side with a long bar and plenty of stools, the other side featuring a smaller bar and a moderate bit of floor space for standing and dancing in front of low stage set at the room’s far end.

The Fred (as we fans like to call them) is hosting a CD release party and playing their ambitious new album, Lil Tae Rides Again, in its entirety. The Tulsa, Okla.-based band’s progressive post-modern jazz has been transformed into dynamic Pink Floyd-flavored electro-rock; Brian Haas provides the wall of sounds and psychedelia on keys, Reed Mathis is particularly brilliant as he jumps from bass to electric guitar to lap steel to produce the most fluid and sublime notes you’ve ever heard, and drummer Josh Raymer, who joined The Fred back in the summer of ’07 after Jason Smart’s departure, plays like he’s been with the band throughout their nearly 15-year career. Guest guitarist Pete Tomshany has joined The Fred for its Lil Tae tour, though I can’t really figure out what he’s doing other than adding texture to the lush sonic tapestry, which is, overall, so absolutely transcendent that I find myself forced to pick up a copy of the CD.

We enjoy the vibrations for about an hour before we are joined by Rich, a late edition to our NOLA crew. We’d met Rich on an Umphrey’s McGee message board, where fans of the band become fast friends – or enemies – based on their shared Um love. To defray the costs of our pricey NOLA hotel room, we decided to rent out the sofa bed in our suite and put up a “Seeking Temporary Roommate” post on the board. Hence our association with Rich, a University of Florida engineering student who’d responded to our post.

Rich is 21, lanky and fair and clear-eyed, smart and not shy exactly, but reserved in such a way that you can tell he thinks very carefully about what he’s going to say before he says it. He bring his girl friend (not girlfriend) Ilana, also a UF student, 20 and coltish with huge dark eyes, an appealingly sheepish smile and a big vocabulary. Her fake ID says 24, but she looks about 12. This doesn’t help her tonight when she tries to get in to d.b.a. without her ID, the first of several important items she’d leave somewhere that weekend.

Rich relates the dilemma to us briefly – Ilana has forgotten her ID, the grumpy, goateed door guy won’t admit her, and so she’s hanging around outside in the hopes that he’ll take pity on her. But he’s firm – she looks too young and there’s no way she’s getting in without showing him proof of her age.

Alex disappears to try and sweet talk him, but he returns a moment later, unsuccessful. “‘Who are you?” the door guy had asked Alex with so much spite Alex was immediately convinced that his mellow coerciveness wasn’t going to work.

Rich and Ilana had brought their bikes with them to get around the city easier. They’d biked to Frenchman, roughly 5 miles from our hotel. After discussing the situation, they decided the best solution would be for Ilana to bike back to the hotel, get her ID, and then bike back to d.b.a.

I think we’re all a concerned about Ilana, a youthful female riding her bike alone on the unfamiliar, unsafe streets of NOLA. She hasn’t returned by the time The Fred takes a set break, when we’re ready to leave d.b.a., but Rich doesn’t seem fazed. “I talked to her. She’s coming back,” he insists and so, with some reluctance, we catch a cab to the hotel. It’s about 2 a.m.

We call Rich when we return to the room and he confirms that, after some adventuring, Ilana made it back with her I.D. and has been admitted into d.b.a. with little fanfare. Both were now enjoying The Fred’s second set.

Alex, Phil and I tucked in. The next day would be our most busy: first, we’d be headed to the NOLA Fairgrounds for the day fest to see Stevie Wonder, among others. The evening hours were rife with possibility and would precede a late (2 a.m.) show by Umphrey’s McGee.

Stay tuned for Episode 2: Friday with the Wonder and Fire at House of Blues

Leilani will be continuing her “Adventures in NOLA” series on Blurbex.

The Neville Brothers’ highly anticipated homecoming performance at the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival proved poignant, celebratory, and spiritual on a gorgeous Sunday. The Nevilles’ closing day appearance marked another important return to normalcy for the slowly but steadily rebuilding Crescent City. Natives of the Uptown neighborhood, The Nevilles’ meld second line funk, soul, gospel and rhumba to create the ultimate Big Easy music experience, something the siblings had done during the final day of Jazz Fest for years. Then Katrina displaced the family and star frontman Aaron Neville feared all the dust and mold in the city would exasperate his asthma, preventing him from returning to perform much to the chagrin of the persevering locals and Jazz Fest regulars. All was made right, though, Sunday. The Nevilles performed on the main Acura Stage in front of a grateful crowd that ranged in age from small children and their parents to college students.

The famed sibling group inspired dancing and embracing with New Orleans anthems like “Iko, Iko,” “Fire on the Bayou” and “Tipitna.” Aaron sang a gripping version of Sam Cooke’s “A Change Is Gonna Come” that spoke to the mistreatment the New Orleans people faced in the aftermath of Katrina while at the same time promising better days ahead. It was a hymn of hope that captured the feeling many must have felt just from seeing the Nevilles back on stage.

5/6 UPDATE: Raconteurs photos posted below (scroll down).

Aaron Neville singing “A Change is Gonna Come.”

All in the family.

A couple embracing at Neville Brothers show.

Jack White (center) of The Raconteurs performing Sunday on the Gentilly Stage.

The Raconteurs killer performance elicited enthusiastic responses from the sprawling crowd.

Chilling outside the Blues Tent Sunday during The Derek Trucks Band performance, which included a guest performance by Trucks’ wife, ace soul singer/guitarist Susan Tedeschi. She sang lead on a spectacular rendition of The Band classic “The Weight.”

My brother, Joel Tatangelo (vocals/guitar), performing with his Stand Back Band, Saturday night at Tarantula Arms, a club in New Orleans’ French Quarter across from House of Blues. During their set, the Lee Boys’ pedal steel guitarist Roosevelt Collier stopped by before his HOB gig and whipped out his cell phone to take some pics. Here’s a clip of them doing their original “Whiskey on the Weekend.”

Stand Back doing Dr. John’s “I Walk on Gilded Splinters” same night, with bassist Thomas Stevenson on lead vocals.

Stand Back doing the blues classic “Rolling and Tumbling” same night.

The Roots, rap’s greatest live band, didn’t bring M.I.A. on stage Saturday at the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival (big rumor going ’round town) but did an innovative rendition of “Masters of War” that left me spellbound. The Philly hip-hop ensemble mashed the lyrics of Bob Dylan’s classic anti-war screed — sung in a clear, high tenor by Roots guitarist Captain Krik Douglas — to the “Star Spangled Banner” melody. Roots drummer/bandleader Questlove banged out a military style march rhythm and then engaged in killer interplay with sousaphone player Damon “Tuba Gooding Jr.” Bryson . I was able to watch/photograph The Roots’ performance at the Congo Square stage from backstage thanks to my Crescent City buddy Tommy hooking me up with an invitation from Lt. Governor Mitch Landrieu to the “My Louisiana Hospitality Center.”

Here are some pics. Gotta run to catch the Raconteurs and Big Easy ambassadors the Neville Brothers, which will be closing Jazz Fest and making their first performance in New Orleans post-Katrina.

Roots’ guitar hero Captain Kirk Douglas.

Hip-hop’s best drummer, Questlove.

Douglas and Black Thought (The Roots’ MC).

Questlove with sousaphone player Damon “Tuba Gooding Jr.” Bryson.

War Chief Juan & Young Fire Saturday at the Jazz & Heritage stage.

Nathan & the Zydeco Cha Chas Saturday at the Fais Do Do stage.

The food at Jazz Fest is as good as the music, especially the pheasant-quail-andouille gumbo.

The mud didn’t stop folks from dancing at the Fais Do Do stage.

New Orleans residents (left to right) Tricia Doud, Ashley Vigil (formerly of Tampa) and Amy Henke, chilling at the “My Louisiana Hospitality Center.”

Hard at work this morning at my brother Joel’s place in New Orleans’ Uptown neighborhood. Photo by Joel Tatangelo.

UPDATED May 5: Tens of thousands watched Stevie Wonder perform Friday, May 1, on the main Acura Stage at New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival. Unless you camped out in front of the same stage the entire day, chance are you watched Wonder on one of the giant screes like we did. A downpour came shortly after this photo was taken. Photo by Phil Bardi.

Walked out on Stevie Wonder’s highly anticipated performance Friday at the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival. Was having too much fun getting down with Trombone Shorty at the Congo Square stage to pull away. By the time we made it to the Acura stage area the crowd swelled to what appeared to be about 50,000. We were so far back that the jumbo screen monitors even looked small. Wonder came out, gave a rambling Barack Obama endorsement, and then launched into a series of slow, R&B numbers that bordered on smooth jazz. Wasn’t feeling it.
The about-to-get-soaked crowd watching Stevie Wonder.

Went over to the Gentilly Stage and enjoyed a set from singer-songwriter John Prine, who nearly brought me to tears with his tender reading of the Vietnam War vet tragedy “Sam Stone.” It rained through much of Prine’s set but his energy kept us from splitting early.

Richard Thompson turned in an equally stirring set on the same Gentilly stage earlier in the day. Florida sacred steel band the Lee Boys rocked the blues tent and our Friday started in the WWOZ Jazz Tent with a blast of tuba funk led by Kirk Jospeh.

Trombone Shorty performing at the Congo Square “My Louisiana Stage.”

The Bad plus performing Friday at the WWOZ Jazz Tent.

Who says Jazz Fest can’t be sexy?

Left to right: My brother Joel Tatangelo, me and our buddy Thomas Stevenson walking in between downpours with friend Alex and Leilani  trailing behind.

Jimmy Buffett headlines today but the big rumor is that M.I.A. (pictured), who released my favorite CD of 2007, will be sitting in with the Roots, which would totally make my weekend. Well, running late, gotta go see if it happens.

M.I.A. photo from her MySpace site.