Because It's Carnival Time.

The subject line referrence is to the Al "Carnival Time" Johnson hit of the same name, the destination sign on the Freret Street bus as I passed it on the way home from a parade yesterday, and the reason for my abscence from bloggerdom for the next week or so. It's just not possible to get much of anything done around here at the height of Carnival Season. Incidentally, the pic is of the same Zulu poster that my tax preparer recently gifted Darlene and I with. Mr. Jimmy is a member in good standing of the Zulu Social Aid and Pleasure Club and has offered to sponsor me as a member. A pretty attractive proposition I'd say, especially considering that the President of the United States social secretary, Desiree Glapion-Rogers, is a former Zulu Queen. And for you history-dweeb types, yes that's the same Glapions as the late, great, widow Glapion, otherwise known as Voodoo Queen Marie Laveau.

Y'all Be Ready, Y'all Be Right.

Tonight is the second in our series of workshops featuring guest jazz artists at the Rat, otherwise known as the Rathskeller Bar in the Lavin-Bernick Center for Student Life on the Tulane campus. Tonight's guest is drummer Adonis Rose. Jesse Mcbride is curating this series, and he's been running it like a kind of student/faculty jam session with guest artist. The last event featured trumpeter Clyde Kerr Jr. with several student groups playing a mix of standards and Clyde's own compositions. It was a freewheeling affair, and the only ground rules were "know the music (no charts on the stand)" and "be ready." The last set consisted of Clyde on trumpet, me on tenor, faculty members Jesse Mcbride on piano and Geoff Clapp on drums, and a student bass player who shall remain anonymous. We didn't play anything particularly hard, but during a medium up version of "Blue n Boogie" I could tell Mr. Bass was having a bit of trouble finding the pocket. Geoff Clapp can be a little rambunctious at times, but really, he was just swinging hard and shouting encouragement. New Orleans musicians like to exhort and shout on the stand, and you hear a lot of "uh huh" and "yeah you right!" At least you do if you're playing well. I like it. Mr. Bass helped me drag some of the equipment back to the music building after the gig and allowed as to how he wasn't used to playing with drummers who were that agressive. " I'm used to guys who just play ting ting ting ta-ting," he said. I countered with a few tales of my own public bandstand-humiliations, many of them much worse and some of them quite recent. Cause that's just the way it is in jazz; every once in a while you get your ass handed to you, and at my time of life it's increasingly getting handed to me by people half my age or younger. But what are you gonna do? The only proper response is to head back to the shed. I told Mr. Bass, "Just wait till you see what Adonis has up his sleeve. Y'all better come correct."