Harry & Wynton

Do you know what it means to miss new orleans
And miss it each night and day
I know I’m not wrong... this feeling’s gettin’ stronger
The longer, I stay away
Miss them moss covered vines...the tall sugar pines
Where mockin’ birds used to sing
And I’d like to see that lazy mississippi...hurryin’ into spring

The moonlight on the bayou.......a creole tune.... that fills the air
I dream... about magnolias in bloom......and I’m wishin’ I was there

Do you know what it means to miss new orleans
When that’s where you left your heart
And there’s one thing more...i miss the one I care for
More than I miss new orleans

(instrumental break)

The moonlight on the bayou.......a creole tune.... that fills the air
I dream... about magnolias in bloom......and I’m wishin’ I was there

Do you know what it means to miss new orleans
When that’s where you left your heart
And there’s one thing more...i miss the one I care for
More.....more than I miss.......new orleans

Louis Armstrong wrote this. Harry Connick and Wynton Marsalis sang it Friday night on the Katrina relief special. I like to think Todd, Greg Garvin, my dad, Howie, and Nettie were singing along. They were all affected by Nawlins (come on, that's the spelling) by birth, visits, weekends, honeymoons, and slavery. Nettie was the granddaughter of Quadroon slaves. Lots of food, memories and strange mixing went on in her family. Food, jass (now we say "jazz"), voodoo, tears, harmony, and hope. Lots of mixing indeed.

I met Harry on August 22, 1994. He was promoting his album Star Turtle at Tower Records's new home in Trump Plaza. I was third in line. I regaled him with a short tale of how my friends made fun of me for listening to Duke Ellington, Sarah Vaughn, Billie, Willie "The Lion" Smith, and Hank Jones. He shook his head and laughed in that inimitable drawl, "Ahh know. Me too. Yah juss keep lissenann tuh that good stuff naw, ya heah?" He signed 4 cds, a program from a show Howie and I went to and I got to stare at those huge piano monsters he calls hands. He hadn't married Jill Goodacre yet, so there was no wedding band. That came later.

I met Wynton on January 17, 2001. He was at a New York City ballet discussion in the NY State theater. He was joined by Peter Martins, a moderator from the orchestra, and two ushers who were taking questions. Wynton and Peter had collaborated back in 1992 on an experimental piece called Jazz. Wynton did the music, Peter did the choreography. It was a moderate success, and the public asked for more. Wynton was commissioned to do another piece, which came out in 2002, and he was there to discuss its structure. My question was simple.

"What kind of music do you listen to when you're creating something?"

I did not go up to the mike. I did not defer to the ushers. I was raised with him, Delfeayo, Ellis, and his brother Brandon, so I knew what he'd say. I was also sitting dead-center in row 12, right in the middle. He heard me fine.

"Well, I don't really indulge at all. I gotta keep my notes straight in my head. It's like cooking. You need your ingredients, but you can't mess it up with the hot sauce too soon, ya know?"

The audience laughed. I knew he'd put food and music in the same category. That's what Nawlins folk do.

And so I sat with a lump in my throat on Friday at seeing Harry and Wynton play together. Ellis, Wynton's dad, gave Harry his last classical compositions to practice when he was a boy. Paid off, too. Harry's one of the better piano players to carry on the southern jazz traditions. Frank Sinatra comparisons, my ass. Frank is great, but he never arranged for orchestra, played Avalon with a loose left hand, or had a thirteen-piece brass band doing the Stomp onstage with him.

I had my chance to go down there about 9 years ago, but I had to work that summer. I was very very pissed off. And now, doubly so, because anything past this point will be "Before and After", just like NY City and 9/11. Not that I'm making a comparison to crazy people flying a plane into buildings and a natural disaster, but you KNOW those levees weren't properly maintained. Sad, but true.

And thank god I've got three days off. More time to rest and recover. Why is August such a bitch?