Last day of the festival and I finally flexed my all-access muscle. Got backstage to see the sweaty artists, media hacks, quick-thinking publicists and various hangers-on that seem to creep up out of the cracks in the press room floor.
Still, it was kind of cool to get backstage before the Neville Brothers performance. I even got to chop
it up with Aaron Neville. My immediate impression: he is a bad dude.
Stout, fire-hydrant frame, massivearms bulging beneath a muscle shirt, and a crude, crooked rendering of a cross on his right cheek. I couldn't tell if it was a tatoo or if he let one of his grandchildren draw on his face.
Amidst a short stream of fans angling for photos and hand shakes, I asked him his opinion on hip-hop artists sampling his music, to which he answered (with some help from his publicist) that he considered it a compliment.
"It's what the young people are into right now," he said.
He shared his experience working with New Orleans rapper B.G., a former heroin addict who collaborated with the group on a song about addiction. He explained how he wrote it down right there on the spot, which impressed the veteran soul singer.
On stage, the brothers delivered a pulsating performance that was no frills. They ran through their set list like a well-oiled, rhythim-blessed blues machine. I watched from the side of the stage as a large portion of the crowd waved white napkins and towels during one of their songs. It looked like a
bunch of handkerchief propellers twisting in the air.
After the show, I got to talk to another performer, Chicago poet Patricia Smith, who was in town to watch the show with her husband. Smith is one of my personal favorites, and the opportunity to buy her a drink and hang out for a few minutes was definitely a blessing.
Sunday was a nice end to a hype weekend. I got a few lessons on the blues and where it's coming from, where it's at, and where it's going down.
posted by Marc Cabrera at 6/27/2005 04:42:00 PM