September 2008 (PDF) - Antigravity Magazine

COLUMNLOCAL MUSIC
LIVE NEW ORLEANS
SONGE ENRAGED
by jason songe jason@liveneworleans.com
MAELSTROM: SONGS OF STORM AND EXILE
You know what gets the girl at poetry readings? Comedy and levity. After sitting through diaryridden,
overly earnest poems, laughing is like breathing after tumbling in an undertow.
At a stand-up open mic above Lucy’s about two months after Katrina, I remember
cringing when a comedian told a joke about the storm. I enjoy irreverence, but still, it was
too early. When I could laugh about the storm I was still wary of songs and writing about it
because of possible exploitation (George Bush’s Jackson Square speech) and middle-of-theroad
schmaltziness (Cowboy Mouth’s “The Avenue”). This trepidation has precluded my
consumption of most storm-oriented music and writing, though I enjoyed the classiness and
subtlety displayed by Rotary Downs and Big Blue Marble when dealing with the subject. I’m
a little ashamed I still haven’t read the accounts of Josh Clark and Chris Rose.
Three years after the storm comes “Maelstrom: Songs of Storm and Exile,” a set of
poems inside Jealous Witness, a new poetry book by Andrei Codrescu, local essayist,
translator, novelist and columnist. This book was easy to pick up because by the time I
read the poems I’d already been disarmed by the comedy inherent in most of the song
versions of the poems. With the book comes a twenty-one-track CD, a collaboration
between Codrescu and the New Orleans Klezmer All-Stars. Every track contains
Klezmer music. Some are new storm-oriented instrumentals, some are readings of the
poems by guests, and my favorites are the readings by Codrescu. No matter how cool it
is to hear or how good Coco Robicheaux, Alex McMurray, Ivan Neville, or John Boutte
are at interpreting his poems, there’s nothing better than hearing the author himself,
especially when he sounds just as off kilter and smart-ass as the music behind him.
On “Married Men’s Girlfriends:” “She’s in Houston I’m in Philly/o how it kills me to be
here with my wife’s large family.”
On “The Army, National Guard, NOPD, and FEMA Tantz:” “Look at them crouching
ready for combat/ who they gonna combat who they gonna combat.”
On “The Army, National Guard, NOPD, and FEMA Tantz:” “How quickly they forgot
how they didn’t want a Wal Mart here”
Codrescu also laments, whether it’s the absence of the mayor, the inability of helicopters
to take pets, growing mold, or the disappearance of the middle class. In these poems
Codrescu is a great observer, noting the resilience and kindness of humanity and how status
and grudges slough off us in times of tragedy. These poems celebrate life. I wish my favorite
poem wasn’t a downer, but there it is, anyway. “New Orleans Limbo” is a treasure and a
heartbreaker. Since I believe they were written in 2005, the poems can feel like yesterday’s
news, but they’re still a great document. Do I even need to say that my previously stated
trepidations would be unfounded when concerning these poems? Codrescu has heart and
tact to spare.
Could there have been a better band than the Klezmers to back Codrescu? It’s a real
treat to hear new compositions by Jonathan Freilich, Glenn Hartman, and especially Rob
Wagner, who I’ve developed a jones for since he stopped his regular d.b.a. Mondays. Helen
Gillet provides cello on a few songs, and I’ve got to hand it to drummer Dave Sobel for
being extremely inventive and seemingly playing just the right thing for every song. He
knows when silence can be better. The musical highlight of the album is Freilich’s tearsoaked
guitar on “Gone, But Forgotten.” I’d have guessed it was Brian Stoltz until
I heard his feverish strumming midway through the song. I guess he can play anything.
RAGE AGAINST THE MACHINE @ LOLLAPALOOZA, GRANT PARK,
CHICAGO, 8/2/08
This may sound gross, but it’s a fair barometer of how much Rage’s show at
Lollapalooza moved me: I haven’t sweat so much at a concert since Gogol Bordello
played Twiropa in 2004 or 2005. When I got back to my hotel, I was superrelaxed
and had a natural high going, probably because of all the toxins I got out.
Maybe it’s melodramatic or naive of me, but it really felt like the world began and
ended in that field Saturday night. Nothing else mattered, and if this was going to be
my chance to exorcise my personal shit and also lend my voice to a social and political
dissent that Rage so intelligently and powerfully espouses, I wasn’t going to just stand
there. I was alone, so I didn’t have anyone to worry about or protect, and I was far enough
up in the crowd that everyone next to me were surefire fans. I spent most of the concert
airborne, and I gotta say that I inspired a few people around me to get into the show more.
I didn’t know from the beginning how good the show was going to be. Maybe I’d enjoy
the show but be less than blown away, like I was at Voodoo. Luckily, the band was tighter in
Chicago, and they were angrier, which the crowd ate up in appreciation. All I can say is that
I’d love to see a Rage show the morning of the presidential election. That’d be nuts.
Something I noticed was that Tom Morello was more animated than usual, carelessly
windmilling his body around. Awesome.
Only two songs came from Evil Empire: “Bulls on Parade” and “People of the Sun.” I really
wanted to hear “Tire Me.” Oh, well.
It’s eerie how Rage’s lyrics are still so relevant today:
Continued on Page 37...
6_antigravity: your new orleans music and culture alternative