Louisiana Cultural Vistas - Spring 2006 - (Page 92) BOOKSTAND book review by Thomas Uskali The Top Brass A collection of interviews with members of New Orleans’ brass band community traces the origins and evolution of the music Musician Dr. John recently called New Orleans, city of his birth, “the musical seedbed of America.” Mick Burns’ Keeping the Beat on the Street: The New Orleans Brass Band Renaissance illustrates just how true that statement is. These days, New Orleanians find themselves confronting nostalgia when they least expect it. A lost piece of architecture, a destroyed or damaged neighborhood, or just the disruption of long-held traditions inspires wistfulness, even mourning. Given the city’s dramatically changed history, this book is all the more significant. Burns offers succinct historical context: “According to contemporary accounts, the first black brass bands in New Orleans appear to have hit the streets in the 1870s. Typically consisting of nine or ten pieces, they played whatever they could get hired to play — dignified, sonorous dirges for funerals, sprightly military marches for parades, and popular hits of the day for dances and concerts. At that time, the brass band movement, mostly fueled by amateur musicians, flourished all over America and Europe they served as a creative outlet for the working man and a symbol of celebration and solidarity for their communities.” He continues: “What makes a New Orleans brass band unique is the way the musicians started with the same ingredients as everyone else and transformed them into a unique and vital art form.” These bands incorporate a second-line beat — a syncopated rhythm shared by the bass drum and horns, making the whole band swing — just right for a dancing crowd in the street. Once begun, a brass band’s “continuous collective improvisations” (no written music) will sometimes go on “for as long forty minutes.” Burns describes how a current-day brass band might play for a funeral in the morning, walking reverently and playing with restraint, with a “repertoire drawn from the old Baptist hymnbook.” Later that afternoon, the same band could be workthereby the city’s) culture. One-on-one interviews with musicians are the book’s core. Burns’ interviews chronicle how performers came into bands (usually through neighborhood connections), worked regular gigs, and either stayed in New Orleans or moved away with other bands and performing jobs. The stories follow one after the next, grouped by band membership, interspersed with thoughtful essays and articles to fill in cultural and musical background notes. The “greats” stand alongside the lesser-knowns, and one gets the feeling that these men consider themselves to be part of a large family of musicians. In a section dedicated to Ernest “Doc” Paulin, veteran trumpet player and bandleader, Burns underscores what made him such a beloved and respected member of the brass band family. Clarinetist Michael White: “Doc Paulin is a great teacher, in the sense that he taught a lot of the musical, as well as the spiritual and professional values. A lot of guys saw him as just somebody who used to fuss all the time, and make you do stuff For example, when you had a job with Doc, you didn’t go to where the job was; you went to his house, and he would take you. He was guaranteeing punctuality.” Burns’ sketch of the Tremé neighborhood, particularly the blocks just north of the French Quarter, is especially poignant. From an interview with the late chef Austin Leslie (of Chez Helene and later Jacques Imo’s): “I was living in Tremé when we happened to see the destruction of all of the families that were living where currentday Armstrong Park is. When those families were dispersed [to build Armstrong Park and the Mahalia Jackson Center for the Performing Arts], their whole history was wiped out. It was tragic — these were proud people, they were very enlightened in the cultural aesthetics of living.” Those who have driven by or through these well-worn neighborhoods might be surprised to learn just how musically significant they have been. Keeping the Beat on the Street by Mick Burns Louisiana State University Press 2006 ing a convention center job, marshalling out-of-town delegates into a clumsy second line, complete with out-of-season Carnival beads and a “seemingly endless rendition of ‘When the Saints,’” as they march through the narrow aisles of an exhibition hall. He then adds: “Both the funeral and the convention center jobs are part of a working brass band’s musician’s routine, and both jobs pay about the same.” Brass bands were once comprised of veteran musicians, and were fixtures in African-American communities. In the post-Civil Rights era, the bands acquired an “Uncle Tom connotation,” and were regarded as being old-fashioned and out of step with changing musical tastes. They were on their way out of the cultural landscape when the Fairview Baptist Church Brass Band, begun by Danny Barker, turned things around. In 1972, the Reverend Andrew Darby approached a few long-time musicians with the idea of starting a brass band “to keep youngsters off the streets.” The 30 or so boys who joined formed the core of that band, and dozens of others to follow, including The Hurricane Brass Band, The Dirty Dozen, New Birth, Tremé, and the Rebirth Brass Bands. It’s been said that Barker and his group “saved jazz for a generation in New Orleans.” The new era of bands began with handed-down musical instruments, and was supported by parents’ and church leaders’ belief that a band’s discipline and camaraderie could help keep young men “off the streets.” But in the long term, these bands would also help to preserve a significant part of a neighborhood’s (and 92 LOUISIANA ENDOWMENT FOR THE HUMANITIES\Spring 2006
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