This weekend we'll clean a little house, politically, but right now I want to recommend a radio station you can get anywhere in the world thanks to the 'net, and that's WWOZ out of New Orleans. Check it out here.
This radio station plays what you might expect a New Orleans station to play, but they slip in a few surprises just to make sure you're paying attention. Tired of Jack White's Raconteurs? Listen to Bessie Smith singing about how she's "wild about that thing." Wish the Arctic Monkeys would succumb to global warming? I got Ike Quebec in my ears as I write this.
I know you're an eclectic bunch, or I wouldn't be tossing you these pearls.
The city itself is still trying to stagger home after the double-shot of Katrina and bureaucratic incompetence, top to bottom. WWOZ is the place to hear about new places opening and bands coming home after being too long in exile.
So do yourself a favor. Put on some gumbo (you need a recipe, let me know and I'll post a great one), tune in and imagine New Orleans back on its feet with its juke joints and jazz halls, to go cups and powdered beignets. No place like it.
6 comments:
Now I'm homesick for MS. Fortunately, my parents send boxes of Cafe DuMond's beignet mix in regular care packages - I came back to AZ with 6 boxes in my suitcase last Christmas.
It sounds dumb, but I almost cried when I heard that Cafe DuMond had re-opened after Katrina. I went there frequently when I lived in MS & honeymooned there with my hubby. Love that city, love that chicory coffee & beignets. And yeah, WWOZ is a pretty kick ass radio station. Isn't the web wonderful?
Thank god for the internet.
angie,
Never apologize for shedding tears over NOLA. If someone came to me and asked what I wanted in a city, I'd end up with New Orleans. Food, music, architecture, voodoo magic, a mystical river, and history that includes a Pirate Captain defending the city, man, it doesn't get better than that, all the way down to adding new words to the English vocab with gris gris, mojo, and gumbo.
I'm going to take you up on the gumbo offer Mr Terrenoire. Post away!
What a fine post to read on a humid 113 degree day in Phoenix in a house with a broken air conditioner.
Right now, I'm lazing back on my sofa, waiting for the air conditioning guy to come, listening to some damn fine NOLA jazz, sweat dripping slowly down my checks, imagining myself in a dark, dingy bar, smoking cigarettes, sipping sour mash whiskey and listening to a raspy-voiced man feeding me lines to which I respond in a world-weary voice, "Whatever suits you, hon."
Ok, now I'm listening to Ray Charles and Diane Krall sing "You don't know me." I may have to add wearing a slinky black cocktail dress and crawling around on top of a grand piano with a Cuban cigar to the scene.
Post a Comment