Sound Advice: Magical jazz and selfie loathing

NOLA dreamin’: Like nearly everyone else who has ever visited New Orleans, I am madly in love with the city.

Colorful colonial homes mingle with post-Katrina urban decay to create a visually stunning landscape. The cuisine—gumbo, jambalaya, crawfish étouffée, muffuletta, beignets—is some of the best this country has to offer. And the drive-thru daiquiris!

But seriously, New Orleans is more about music than anything else. As the birthplace of jazz, the city is steeped in the stuff. There’s live music literally wafting through the air at just about every hour of every day.

I felt pangs of longing during Preservation Hall Jazz Band’s mid-April set at the Crest Theatre— a magical night for the few hundred who came out.

Like so much of New Orleans, the band has a rich history. In 1961, the popularity of traditional New Orleans jazz was waning, so a couple opened up the Preservation Hall as an attempt to keep the style alive. In 1963, the eponymous band was formed to play the venue. But to spread the gospel of NOLA, the band started to tour as well.

And the Preservation Hall Jazz Band has been active ever since. Its members have obviously changed, though many have roots in the New Orleans jazz scene or the band itself. Drummer Joe Lastie Jr. comes from the family credited with bringing drums into New Orleans’ churches. Pianist Rickie Monie and trombone player Freddie Lonzo both used to play with the legendary Olympia Brass Band. Charlie Gabriel, on tenor sax and clarinet, is a fourth-generation New Orleans musician—though at age 81, there are now seven generations of musicians in his family. Trumpeter Mark Braud’s uncles used to lead the Preservation Hall Jazz Band, and bassist Ben Jaffe’s father was the band’s very first tuba player.

All of that history and influence could be felt at the Crest, along with the swingin’, foot-stompin’ party-vibe of New Orleans. Gabriel’s deep, vintage voice sounded like a record player. Ronell Johnson, encased in his sousaphone, never stopped grooving. Braud led the eight-piece band with effortless cool. And of course, I am still craving beignets.

—Janelle Bitker

Check yourselfies: Let’s get something out of the way first that is not the beautiful, wonderful, talented Julieta Venegas’ fault: the amount of selfies, video recording and picture-taking at this show was hands down the worst I have ever seen and almost ruined the experience for me. The April 27 Ace of Spades show sold out, which meant I found myself pretty far at the back of the venue. Which meant that whenever she played a hit off of her biggest selling album, Limón y Sal, the phones went up, and I couldn’t see. It got so I was praying for a song off of Venegas’ new, lesser known album just so I could catch a glimpse of her.

OK, rant over. I first heard Venegas in Mexico, and the music leaped out at me. I was traveling in an area where banda music (the accordion-heavy genre with a polka beat) reigns supreme—something that is mostly like nails on a chalkboard to me. Her music didn’t elicit that reaction, however: What was this shimmering ’90s-style pop (reminiscent of the band the Sundays) sung by a woman with the glassy-toned, clear-as-a-bell voice? With total earworm hooks? And her videos show that Venegas is a winsome lass who is cute as a button. Soon after returning home, I bought a greatest-hits album, and it became a staple on the stereo for months.

The crowd was antsy for her entrance, chanting “Julieta” and cheering when her accordion was brought out. She emerged with a hip-looking young band and launched into a killer set that included “Limón y Sal,” “Me Voy,” “Andar Conmigo” and “Lento.” Throughout, Venegas alternated between singing, playing the keyboard and—the crowd favorite—playing gentle, tasteful accordion (yes, there is such a thing).

She spoke a bit in Spanish between songs, and I couldn’t catch more than a word here or there. I think she was dishing some bright-eyed advice on life, which I would love to heed, if only I understood it.

—Becky Grunewald