Feb 11, 2010
Day 7 Part 1
11:23 am
Mississippi is a trip. What a friendly, eclectic mix of people. Not as many White Dreds as the other stops on this tour, but definitely as much drug use. It’s surprising how rampant this culture has become. Students are as bold as ever as they ask innocent bystanders for any narcotics they can acquire. One kid blatantly asked me, “Do you have drugs?” I quickly responded, “Nah, I don’t do drugs.” Homeboy, who was about half an inch taller than me, had the creepiest smile on his face when he simply replied, ”Well, I do.” His sinister grin kinda freaked me out, but I let him know that I hoped he found what he was looking for. Interactions like these with people across the globe give me a stronger sense of pride and gratitude for the way my parents raised me. I’m thankful that I grew up in the melting pot that is Los Angeles, California and was exposed to such a diverse array of influences. My mother being from AL and my pops being from LA has allowed me to have deep roots in the South, as most African-Americans do, but the cultures that the West Coast exposed me to truly shaped my person. s we left MS, headed for a post Super Bowl Parade/pre-Mardi Gras New Orleans, I wondered what insanity I would be exposed to on this leg of my expedition.
Driving down the highway, in the middle of nowhere, we saw a gentlemen step out from the wooded thicket alongside the road carrying a four point deer head in one hand and a buck knife in the other. Guess that’s why they call them buck knives. I have never seen “live taxidermy” before so this was an eye-opening experience. I thought it was bad enough when I hit a low flying bird on the interstate, but dang, yo!
Feb 12, 2010
Day 7 Part 2
4:58 am
Reflecting on this past week, I can’t help but be in disbelief. The feats that are accomplished on tour are amazing and the lifestyle that we as musicians/performers live is really a privileged one. Being able to touch people’s lives in isolated regions on the map is a special task that forces us to approach life differently. Gracing stages that legends like George Clinton and the Neville Brothers have rocked means a lot to me. Tipitina’s in New Orleans is one of those venues that has such rich history, its almost unbelievable to see my name on the same posters as dudes like Afrika Bambaataa. Happy hipped me to the legacy of Professor Long Hair, whose golden bust is drapped in beads in the entryway of Tipitina’s, and explained his involvement in the New Orleans music scene. Happy even decided to dedicate a song to Professor Long Hair, but technical difficulties prevented him from delivering the performance he wanted. Happy’s hardship attributed for the first frown I’ve ever seen on the dude this. That’s a big deal considering his name is Happy.
Come time for our set, the crowd was slizzard and about due to erupt. The rain had brought the crazies indoors as the parades were postponed due to weather, so people were more than ready to get wet and wild. Milk and I initiated a “Who Dat?!?” chant that lasted seemingly forever and by its completion, they were in the palm of our hands. A kid upstairs had asked me for LSD before the show began and I told him sorry I didn’t have any, but I promised that the music would get him high. Once the breakbeat that is my song “Fruit & Vegetables” dropped, I noticed the same homey front and center going nuts shouting obscenities at me. On the mic, I asked if he was pleased with the performance and he could hardly contain his excitement. He later tried to convince Milk that he dressed like kids in Cali even though he lived in Louisiana. He must have been faded.
After that rebel-rousing show, I know I was. The cigarette smoke that filled the room was almost as suffocating as the 700 college kids that made walking through the venue a chore in itself. Most of them Tulane co-eds, they knew how to enjoy themselves and I think we provided the perfect atmosphere to prepare them for RJ. Jason’s grandma, Evelyn, hooked us up with a room at a quaint little bed and breakfast called The Ursuline Guest House right in the heart of the French Quarter off Bourbon St. Having never been to New Orleans, or to Paris for that matter, I was stoked to see the locale of the biggest party scene in America. It sure was a scene! People falling over themselves, lying in the rain washed gutter just twisted and appearing to be enjoying the festivities. I can now check that off the bucket list and get some much needed rest. One more week on this cold road, then back to my humble abode in Sun Valley, CA.
Nice Life.
Good Night and Good Day,
KAB
:-)