Wherein Moominmama rejoices to hear live music and learns about Jazz Funerals and Second Lining in New Orleans

Music is not a concert hall affair here in New Orleans; it belongs to the streets and squares. Given the devastating effects of COVID-19 in this community earlier in the pandemic, I wasn't sure what I'd find when I arrived in the French Quarter early one morning. 

I'm now in the Central time zone with my body stuck in Eastern. That makes me a very early riser in a city known for its nightlife. But I got cafe au lait and beignets from Cafe du Monde and walked around the almost empty side streets until it was time for my tour, led by a young musician and New Orleans native, Eliot Eidelman.

Eliot's love for his city is very much tied to his love for music so we learned about New Orleans music along with the history and architecture.

Take the term "Second Line," which he introduced to our tour group. This New Orleans word dates back to the pre-Civil War era when the city's military history meant marching brass bands were common in the community. 

When a notable citizen, particularly a fellow musician, dies, band members lead mourners to the cemetery with appropriate dirges. But once they "cut the body loose" (lay it to rest), it's time to sing to the Spirts to welcome the soul into the great beyond. 

And this is joyous celebratory music that calls for dancing and drinking. Now called a Jazz Funeral, it's a largely Black tradition with the First Line of mourners and officialdom followed by a Second Line of the whole community, who dance along with the now-lively procession wherever it leads around the streets.

Eventually Second Lining became a general parade staple, a "jazz funeral without the body," Eliot explained. Different clubs now host these events, with club leaders and the musicians forming the First Line and the entire community invited to follow behind dancing and celebrating.

Suddenly, the pre-COVID performance by New Orleans native Jon Batiste at the Eastman Theater in Rochester, N.Y. made sense. Jon and his band did a traditional concert-hall jazz performance -- but they ended by marching us out of the theater and onto Gibbs Street and up Main. We all followed clapping and dancing as they continued to play. So I was part of a Second Line without even knowing it, and it was exhilarating!

Music in the streets was common for other reasons too. Without social media to advertise musical events, it was common for band members to board a wagon and be pulled around the streets, playing their instruments to advertise the evening's performance, Eliot said.

When two of these wagons met in one of the narrow streets, a competition often ensued, with each group of performers seeking to outdo the other: what's called a Cutting Contest.

From this street-music tradition came -- and continues to come -- a whole host of famous performers.  Eliot points out a house, above, that once served as a recording studio used by Fats Domino, who turned Blueberry Hill into the first Black-recorded song to cross the then-segregated music charts.

His piano, repaired after being waterlogged by Hurricane Katrina, is one of the featured exhibits at the nearby state Jazz Museum, where I paid a visit to get out of the sun and humidity!

I was lucky to be there for a special exhibit on the evolution of percussion and drumming in New Orleans, where I was struck by a statement from drummer Johnny Vidacovich: "What makes a New Orleans drummer is an unconscious dance."

It was also exciting to see one of the first cornets played by a young Louis Armstrong. This one he played after he was arrested and sent to the Colored Waif's Home in 1913 for firing a pistol in the air on New Year's Eve. The Waif's Home turned out to be a progressive institution, providing him with his first formal musical training and kicking off his career.

After the museum, I hit the streets again and meandered down Bourbon Street and eventually made my way back to Jackson Square, where I saw the group of young musicians at the top of this post charming the crowd -- and Moominmama too!

What a place to learn and practice your craft! They were performing in blazing sun and high humidity with incredible energy. I couldn't help but dance -- but they outlasted me for sure. Walking back to my car in the heat and seeing these tempting glimpses of Spanish-style courtyards behind the historic home facades helped me understand their appeal! Can you see the hint of greenery behind that front door grate calling to you?