The JazzFest 2025 Trip – Week One
By Brian Wise
‘Welcome home,’ said our landlady Marie-Francoise when we arrived at our apartment. We’re on Ursulines Ave at one end of the quarter, close to Esplanade which runs from the river all the way out to the Fairgrounds where JazzFest is held. I used to stay here years ago, before I organised tour groups of listeners to JazzFest.
First some impressions of New Orleans. It’s been two years since I’ve been here and I’m happy to say that almost nothing has changed. That’s probably because we are staying in the French Quarter which not only seems resistant to change but is made so by decree. It has been preserved in almost its original state which is a marvellous thing.
One thing that has changed is the cleanliness of the streets. I have never seen the French Quarter looking and smelling so clean. It was the very first thing I noticed. There’s something missing here, I thought.
In the past you might have been walking along, dodging all sorts of detritus: empty hurricane drink containers, paper bags and takeaway food, and even a few bodies on the footpath. Now you barely see a scrap of paper. The pungent smell of alcohol and vomit that used to greet you has been replaced with something entirely new. The streets are sprayed early every morning with lemon scented water, and they smell……….lemony! Whoever is responsible for this deserves some sort of medal – and a long contract.
That doesn’t mean there are not dangers to be aware of lurking on the pavements: upturned stones, large holes (occasionally covered with cardboard), pieces of jutting metal from repairs left undone.
The other change that I noticed is even more disturbing. The 91 bus that was once famous for its total unreliability – to point at which you thought you might see Halley’s Comet before spotting a 91 – arrived on time twice in a row and early once! This is simply dumbfounding. This is the bus that we take out to the festival each day and has caused tears in the past. I am starting to pray that this new efficiency is not just a temporary aberration. The public transport app proudly displays the fact that the on-time rate for their services is 79%. Hardly something to brag about. But the 91 is now the star of the show!
I have been catching buses everywhere. It’s a 40-cent fare for seniors and you can get a 2-hour transfer ticket for that as well! We put money on a card which never seems to work and so we have to keep our own track of how many trips we have taken in an enforced honesty system. Many locals also seem to be friends with the drivers so it is not unusual to be waiting until a conversation with a departing passenger is finished. My favourite, so far. “I’ve had my teeth out, baby,” said one elderly lady, “now I look like Snagglepuss!”
As a sidelight, I must mention that the driverless WayMo cars (actually run by Uber) are not in New Orleans. In Austin, was eerie to sit there with no driver but I have to say that it seemed to be quite careful. I wonder how they actually monitor the car. It definitely lacks for conversation and witty repartee but hardly any of the Uber drivers spoke to us anyway. That is not the case in New Orleans. My son tells me that driverless cars are the way of the future. Bad news for taxi and Uber drivers.
Everyone here in New Orleans calls you ‘baby’, especially the women. ‘Thank you, baby,’ will be the refrain at a store. When I was last here with Karen, she loved being called ‘baby’. It’s a really nice sign of affection here. No doubt it is politically incorrect somewhere.
People also say ‘hi’ to you on the streets. This is something you have to get accustomed to if you are from a big city and think anyone who says hello must be planning to mug you.
We really enjoy taking the bus to the festival because it’s always full of people who have the love of music in common. Complete strangers bond on a 15-minute bus ride. There are some terrific conversations and really good tips to be had. The excitement travelling to the festival is palpable, as is the exhaustion on the return journey. We always leave the festival no later than 6.40pm to make sure we get the first bus home.
Lining up to collect our tickets on the first day of the festival I got in a conversation with a couple from Wisconsin who had travelled to the festival to see the band Goose. Have you ever heard of them? Neither had I but they were raving so much about them that I felt compelled to see the band. In fact, they were really quite good. Keith Spera, music writer for the Times-Picayune here, and who I interviewed for the radio show, also saw them and said it reminded him of The Meters in terms of influence. They actually reminded me of Lukas Nelson & Promise of The Real – but not quite in the jam band mode. The lead guitarist is also a pretty good singer and there were some memorable songs and riffs as well. Goose has just released a brand new album titled Everything Must Go. It’s worth checking out. That’s just one example of the discoveries that you can make a JazzFest.
The food here is, of course, mainly delicious. My favourite dish remains Crawfish Monica: spiral pasta and crawfish in a creamy sauce. US$13 for a reasonable sized bowl. Add tax to that and it’s over $14 and then add a tip. Still worth it. The only other food I have had out at the festival was the pork and prawn rice paper rolls for a bargain of US$8. Really delicious and a refreshing change. I have had a shrimp po’ boy sandwich (really a roll) at Mother’s in the CBD and a sit-down meal of the same thing at Per Antoine’s. Graham got some po’ boys from the VertiMart around the corner and mine was the size of a small submarine! On the way back from JazzFest we have stopped twice at Habana Outpost, a Cuban style restaurant on the corner of Esplanade and Rampart. Really good food freshly made and reasonably priced. Our favourite discovery of the last trip here in 2023.
Coffee is another matter. This morning, for my early morning coffee, I visited the Croissant D’Or, just a block away, and I order a latte with a double shot. This makes it much better than what seemed to be the warm milk I had there the other day. Usually, I go to CC’s Coffee House, just around in Royal Street, because it opens at 6.00am and the coffee is much better. But the Croissant D’Or is more atmospheric. Melbourne remains the coffee capitol of the world and Australians are still the best baristas.
We are on a three-day break before JazzFest starts up again. Yesterday I went to the Threadheads Patry (not a typo) out near City Park. Had a heap of Crawfish and did some interviews. Today I have another interview in the morning and then the afternoon is free. Tomorrow the same. Time to relax. I have been struggling a bit getting around but feel okay today. You don’t need to know about my health.
The final thought I will leave with today is that Americans still love Australians. Despite what is going in in Washington we are still seen as ‘exotic’. For some reason they love our accent. We have detected a bit of an anti-British attitude amongst Uber drivers here. Not sure why. A lot of Americans we meet have either been to Australia, have a grandparent who was here during WW2 or are just in awe of our deadly animals, reptiles, insects and sharks. The friendly vibes are handy. When I wanted to swap a t-shirt at JazzFest I was told twice that I couldn’t exchange it until, on the third try, I encountered a lady who had worked in Perth. ‘I am not allowed to do this,” she said, “but I will for you because I love Australia.” Thank you.