From Bowie to Zydeco

I’ve been thinking about the role that music plays in our lives – inspiration, soundtrack, mouthpiece, and marker.

These thoughts were heightened by the passing of David Bowie, of course – and the incredible outpouring of sadness and affection that followed.  Friends, colleagues, neighbors of all ages had a story about what Bowie meant to them.  We were all touched by his music and artistry – like we were members of a fan club we didn’t know existed until he died. 

Music – live music in particular – has always been part of my life.  So maybe it’s fitting that I live two blocks from a place called Johnny D’s in Somerville, MA – a nightclub that has been the go-to place for varied, affordable live music for the last 47 years.

Sadly, Johnny D’s is set to close in March – so I’m trying to see as many shows as possible up there before it does.  Last Tuesday, I took in “Jeffrey Broussard and the Creole Cowboys” – a “nouveau zydeco” band from New Orleans.   Here are some snapshots from the night (my photos and videos are crap, but you get the idea).

•   The band kicked off the night with a song that sampled “Isn’t She Lovely” by Stevie Wonder.  Zydeco meets pop and R&B.  Instant fusion.  I was hooked.

• Watching Jeffrey Broussard play the accordion was seeing a master at work. It’s an incredible instrument with a sound that can take you from a café in Paris, to a Civil War encampment, to a polka party, to the Lawrence Welk show, to the bayous of Louisiana.  I'm sure someone out there can explain the history of the instrument to me – how it traveled through all of these cultures – and I'd love to hear it.

• The show was on a Tuesday night after a Monday holiday - the room should have been dead. But there was some kind of boot-scootin’ country dancing club there and they didn’t leave the dance floor.  Up tempo songs and ballads and everything in between, they danced. Men dancing with women, of course, but plenty of women dancing with women and taking turns leading, for the sheer love of dancing with a partner.

• I wonder how many collective hours this band – and others like them – have practiced and played?  Not always in nightclubs but in basements and bedrooms and dorm rooms, at church picnics, Elks clubs, and county fairs.  And are they self-taught?  From the old-timer in the maverick shirt on lead guitar to the young guy with the washboard on his chest singing “Puddy Cat” in a high falsetto.  They played one tight set.

• You haven’t heard the theme song to “Sanford and Son” until you’ve heard it played by this band.  Complete with shout outs of “Here comes the big one!” and to “Lamont, you big dummy!” I was curious to learn more about the song – and a quick Google search turned up this:  it was written by Quincy Jones.  In a 2010 interview, with Billboard Magazine Jones said, “I wrote that song in about 20 minutes.  We had four musicians, recorded it in about 20 minutes too.  It’s amazing.  Looking back, it’s a trip.” 

• The weather outside was freezing.  Passersby, bundled like Eskimos, kept stopping at the windows to watch the band for a few minutes, breaking out into smiles.  The power of the music reached out into the cold Somerville night, sending them off a little warmer.

Before the last song of the night, Jeffrey Broussard stepped up to the mike and said of Johnny D’s, “It hurts my heart what’s happening to this place.  There are a lot of good memories here.”

I’m not a music critic.  I don’t play an instrument.  I’ve never been in a band.  But I know what I like.  And I know that music is good for the soul.

I’ve got at least two more Johnny D’s shows planned between now and March.  And I’ll share my thoughts here, if you care to read them.  Or better yet, come with me. 

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