Musical rhythms of New Orleans

Reflecting back on our New Orleans community experience, I am thinking about all the ways that we define community … and there are many. There is the community of family, of spiritual dwelling place, of neighborhood, of workplace, and many others. But when I think back on our days in New Orleans, I am struck again and again at the music that resonates through every human pore and building that exists in the city. This music creates a sense of community in its own right by bringing people together to tap their feet, lift their voices, or simply observe. For me, the lifeblood of New Orleans – her steady and rhythmic pulse – comes from the music.

Perhaps it was one too many night on Frenchmen Street, where I was mesmerized by the swinging Jazz Vipers and dazzled by the Cajun style of the Lost Bayou Ramblers, but I know that the musical traditions spill over well beyond this energizing street. I recall the 20s style Cajun music that Austin played in his truck while we created a new garden bed in Hollygrove, the Zydeco tunes that had couples in the 60s and 70s on the dance floor at Mulate’s and Midcity Rock n’ Bowl, and Glen David Andrews getting everyone to second-line at the Hollygrove Center. Each day was a special moment in musical traditions.

When I think of community, I think of a gathering of people for some common purpose – it may be for a short time, it may be for a lifetime, but we come together and lift each others’ spirits – recognizing that our humanity needs others in order to give ourselves meaning. Maybe we get a little dirty, maybe we bang a few nails into floorboards, or maybe we just talk to people about what matters to them. But through it all, we have somehow stepped outside our individual spheres and recognized that there is a greater world around us and that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.

Now how does music fit into this community concept? I realize that we don’t all have the musical talents of an Emily (because she’s pretty awesome), but I think each and every one of us can hear and feel the musical beat, open our eyes, and be swept into a space that brings an awareness of a special time and place. Music can empty out the hardship, breathe new life into weary bones, and feed our souls. When I think back to Glen David Andrews blaring his trombone while the banjo strummed in the background, I can see the grandmothers in the room clap their hands with smiles on their faces, the children run around playing chase, and the rest of us folks bob our heads – what an amazing capture of communal togetherness. It’s so simple, yet so powerful.

Music has roots. Community has roots. And these roots run deep in New Orleans.