 "Les
Haricots Son't Pas Salés"
Cajun music has not always known the kind of worldwide popularity it
now enjoys. In Louisiana, back in the late '60's and early 70's. there
where no restaurants like Randol's or Mulate's that presented Cajun
music nightly; no regular jam sessions in the bars and music stores
and even less groups from far off places like England, New Mexico, France,
Holland or California who played it.
Derogatively called 'chanky chank', it was held in low esteem by many
segments of Cajun society itself. Famous accordion maker and player,
Marc Savoy remembers: 'I would have been the laughingstock of my school
had it been known that I listened to and liked Cajun music (in 'The
Makers of Cajun Music'.)
If it was not fashionable, it nonetheless remained rooted among the
people and was still played at house parties, dance halls, over the
waves of a few radio station[s] and in many of the juke boxes that covered
the twenty or so South Louisiana parishes (named counties in the other
American States) that forms what is variously called Acadiana or Cajun
Country or French Louisiana.
My personal involvement with that culture was provoked by two chance
encounters I had with Cajun individuals in 1966 and then again in 1969.
Those Cajuns arose my curiosity since I knew nothing at all about Acadians,
the Grand Derangement and the survival of a French speaking minority
in Louisiana.
In February 72. just before Mardi Gras, I drove down from New York City
(my home, back then) to Mamou in Evangeline parish, intending to shoot
a documentary about Cajun music.
The result was 'Dedans le Sud de la Louisiane', the first film ever
to be filmed entirely with a Cajun-French soundtrack.
With the help of local cultural activists, Revon Reed, Paul Tate and
Dewey Balfa, I met many of the area's great musicians and did some shooting
in their homes and at picnics (one took place at Rodney Balfa's camp
on the bank of bayou Nez-Piqué).
Obtaining good recording conditions in the dance halls proved too difficult
so we decided to gather musicians together for two 'sessions of sort',
and what sessions they were! One was held in the large workshop of a
Mamou painter Eraste Fontenot (he cooked a wonderful gumbo that night),
the other one in Dewey Balfa's house in Tepatate, south of Basile (where
more gumbo was served) and 'where the dance never ends' as reminisces
Dewey's daughter Christine in a recent song. Both events were attended
by small crowds of friends, relatives and dancing children, The musicians
joked between themselves and felt at ease so it turned out like old
time 'veillées'. Along with a few unavoidable technical imperfections.
here is their music unadulterated and still very much alive and kickin!
Text by Jean-Pierre Bruneau, from the jacket liner of his CD: Legendary
Masters of Cajun & Creole Music - "Les Haricots Son't Pas Salés"
BIOGRAPHIES (more to come)
Wilson Anthony " Boozoo " Chavis
23 October 1930 - 5 May 2001
Wilson
"Boozoo" Chavis, from Lake Charles, was one of zydeco music's
pioneers. He died in Austin, Texas, of complications after a heart
attack, aged 70. Boozoo Chavis' 1955 single "Paper in My Shoe"
is considered by many to be the first modern recording of zydeco.
After a long hiatus, he resumed his career in the mid-1980s as a chief
inspiration to many of the younger artists who fueled zydeco's latter-day
renaissance. "Every contemporary zydeco player, from the late
Beau Jocque to Keith Frank to Rosie Ledet, acknowledged his influence,"
said Michael Tisserand, author of "The Kingdom of Zydeco."
"The fact that there is a song called ‘I Got It From Boo'
(by JoJo Reed) says it all."
Chavis, nicknamed "Boozoo" as a child, began his career
entertaining at southwest Louisiana house parties, where his accordion
propelled dancers late into the night. He recorded "Paper in
My Shoe" in 1955 for the tiny Lake Charles label Goldband. Like
other early zydeco songs, it translated hard times -- in this case,
having to substitute paper for socks -- into a celebratory anthem
that flew in the face of adversity. The song was a regional hit, but
Boozoo quickly grew disillusioned with the music business, believing
he did not receive his fair share of royalties.
He walked away from his career and spent the next two decades raising
and training racehorses. He might never have performed again had he
not learned of another player billing himself as Boozoo Chavis in
1984. Prodded by his wife, Leona, the real Boozoo Chavis decided to
reclaim his name and reputation. To kick off his comeback, he recorded
"Dog Hill," a chronicle of life on his small Lake Charles
homestead. "I'm going to Dog Hill, where the pretty women at,"
he sang. Area radio stations played it, and the single quickly sold
out its initial run. Soon, offers were coming in for Mr. Chavis to
perform, and his career blossomed once again. He suddenly found himself
hailed as a living legend of zydeco, just as its popularity surged
beyond its southwest Louisiana/southeast Texas home. Boozoo Chavis
and his band, the Magic Sounds, were a popular attraction at dance
halls throughout southwest Louisiana. Though reluctant to travel,
he was in demand at festivals across the country. He and Beau Jocque,
who died of a heart attack in 1999, engaged in good-natured zydeco
"battles" that filled the Mid-City Lanes Rock ‘n' Bowl
in New Orleans during the annual New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival.
Each Labor Day, he hosted a daylong zydeco festival at Dog Hill, with
bands performing in an expanded carport. On stage, he would pump his
button-key accordion for hours. His compact riffs rode atop the rhythm
of the band, and he sang with a distinct, gravely voice. "We
play the old-style, natural zydeco," Chavis once said. "It's
got a different accent to it, and it makes people pay attention. Makes
‘em go wild."
Many compositions, including "Johnnie Billy Goat," "Lula,
Lula, Don't You Go to Bingo" and "Went to New York,"
were matter-of-fact observations about events and people in his life.
His well-known sense of humor was not confined to songs such as "You're
Gonna Look Like a Monkey." He sold a line of souvenir underwear
emblazoned with his picture and the lyrics "Take ‘em off!
Throw ‘em in the corner."
Mr. Chavis was renowned for his tenacity and tough character. He once
performed two days after slicing off part of a finger, and he recorded
an album a week after an extended hospital stay. He would not hesitate
to voice his displeasure when some of his younger musical disciples
would "borrow" elements of his style and songs. He finished
recording an album for Rounder Records just a few days before he died.
PORTRAITS (more
to come)
Jo-El Sonnier
Jo-El
was born in Rayne, Louisiana, to poor French speaking sharecroppers.
He began to play the accordion at three years of age. As he grew,
so did his love for the instrument and his ability to play it. Singing
only in French, his Cajun heritage was very strong and clear. News
of this gifted child spread, which led to a radio debut at the age
of 6 and his first recording session at the age of 11. As a favoutite
in local clubs, Sonnier remained a Louisiana sensation during his
early life, but decided to try his luck at recording Country Music.
In 1974, he signed a recording contract with Mercury Records. After
4 years in Nashville, he moved to California where he began to perform
solo shows with the help of many notable friends including guitarist
Albert Lee and the Band's Garth Hudson. By the middle 80's, Jo-El
had a Grammy nominated recording to his credit with Cajun Life. The
success of this recording provided the freedom to fuse Sonnier's deep
Cajun roots with country, rock and other pop influences. 1987 brought
about a new recording deal with RCA records and the result was Come
On Joe, containing several Top 10 hits including Tear-Stained Letter
and No More One More Time.
With radio success under his belt, Jo-El began to stretch out by becoming
a sought after session player in Nashville. The sounds of his accordion
can be heard on the albums of such greats as Alan Jackson, Neil Diamond,
Johnny Cash, Mark Knopfler, Dolly Parton, Robert Cray among others.
As a songwriter, Jo-El has had his songs recorded by artists such
as Johnny Cash, George Strait, John Anderson and Jerry Lee Lewis.
Known for his incredible stage performance, giving 100 % of himself
at every show, Sonnier continues to record and perform his traditional
music to crowds around the world. He says 'I perform every show as
if it was my last'. Anyone who has seen him on stage will agree totally.
One thing is clear, no matter where he is found performing, his passion
and commitment to his music comes across in any language.
BOOK REVIEW :
The Narrow Journey
(fiction)
By Deborah Clawson Johnson
(Xlibris, $16 paperback, 398 pp)
By
GREG LANGLEY
Many
authors who are unable to get their books published by traditional
companies turn to print-on-demand operations where authors pay
to have their book added to these publishers' catalogs. Xlibris
is such a firm. It's a "strategic partnership with Random
House Inc.'s investment subsidiary, Random House Ventures."
These publishers allow authors to get their book in print but
don't provide marketing or editing assistance. Authors keep the
rights to their books, and Xlibris (or 1st Books or whomever)
provides copies of the books when they are ordered.
It all works fine except it adds an element of uncertainty to
the publishing process. You never know what you'll get when you
open one of these books, and it's almost always less than you
get when you go with a book from an established publishing house
such as Random, Knopf, Algonquin, etc.
But occasionally you find a pearl in a pea pod. The Narrow
Journey is one of those very rare books that leaves you wondering
how a major publisher let it get away. It's a rollicking tale
of life in the late 19th century, told in the wise and wry voice
of a Cajun girl named Lucie Trosclair.
Johnson, a native of Lake Charles who has wandered away to live
in South Carolina, gifts her main character with grit, determination,
intelligence and honesty. Lucie faces a life of hardships, first
on the prairies of southwest Louisiana and then in Memphis, Kansas
and Colorado. It's a fate that would break the spirit of a lesser
soul. But as Lucie tells her story, what emerges is a kind of
Cajun The Color Purple.
"I was born in the Atchafalaya Basin of Louisiana in 1861.
May. The nearest town to us was Sonnier's Landing which was not
a town at all but a place where the steamboat Borealis Rex put
in once a month for lumber. Everything else was swamp," Lucie
says.
It was a hard life in the Basin.
"My papa, Achille Trosclair, was a trapper. My mama Bernice
helped him some, but most of her time was tied up with the raising
of us children. There were eleven of us, ten girls and one boy,
that being my brother Baptiste who was born deaf. Muskrat was
Papa's biggest money maker. Muskrat trapping is hard work. You
got to set your traps out, then quick, you got to check them else
some gator will check them for you. In a good year Papa cleared
enough so that there were two, maybe three hogs to butcher in
the fall and enough store-bought cloth to make us all one new
dress apiece, as there was never enough dry land for Mama to grow
her own cotton. In a bad year we made do with chickens and fish
and shrimp and let down hems. I was sixteen years old before I
had a dress that went past my knees."
After her father dies, Lucie and the rest go to live with their
grandfather in Breaux Bridge.
"Perhaps you have heard of him? Aladors Robichaux, the famous
alligator wrestler and boudin king? He also did occasional odd
jobs for snake and other serpent handlers when the work was available.
By the time we met up with him there was not much call for alligator
wrestling, times being what they were, but he still made the best
boudin in all of south Louisiana."
Lucie is not only poor, she has another problem. Unlike her beautiful
sister Alyce, Lucie is not good looking, she is plain.
"Not plain enough to be called downright ugly. Just moderately
plain, say in the order of an unpainted fence or the underside
of a flat rock. Plain enough to get lost in a crowd of two or
perhaps three."
After Alador Robichaux dies, Lucie and the rest of the family
are again without a home and wind up going to live with her mother's
brother, Neg, on a "vacherie" or cattle ranch in southwest
Louisiana on the prairie. Neg is no prize.
"He was a dark bullet-headed fellow with a mouth full of
prominent teeth and features that were too big for his face. He
was considerably untidy, what you might call downright nasty in
his dress. He had on a sober black suit that looked to be borrowed
and smelled to high heaven of horse sweat and stale whiskey. He
wore his hair longer than was the fashion with the sides kind
of hooked behind his ears and the top roached back in a tall pompadour.
It bore a strong resemblance to a rooster's comb. His ears had
each a stiff stand of hairs growing from them and he had scabs
on the back of his hands."
Uncle Neg is even worse than he looks, abusive and demanding and
always on the edge of violence. Lucie and the rest of the family
are forced into lives of backbreaking labor and constant denigration.
It's there on the cattle farm, Amelie, that Lucie meets the handsome
Charles Gaspard, son of the owner. Charles is a n'er-do-well gambler,
late sleeper and ladies' man. The plain-looking, plain-talking
Lucie sizes Charles up quickly but is unable to resist his charms.
And so her life of adventure begins when the 14-year-old Cajun
girls runs off with the gambler. It is the narrow journey of the
title.
It's surprising that Oprah Winfrey hasn't picked up on this book
-- it has all the earmarks of an Oprah's Book Club selection.
There's a strong woman heroine (Lucie) who perseveres against
all odds. The heroine learns that men can't be depended on, that
women must learn to make their own way in the world, and finally,
that it's better not to need a man but all right to enjoy one
if you have him.
The entire tale is told in the first person voice of Lucie, who
is poor but exceedingly proud of her Cajun background. Lucie peppers
her speech with French words and pithy country sayings, she finds
a way to laugh at the darkest of circumstances and she is true
to her beliefs -- traits that help make her one of the most human
and endearing characters in recent fiction.
Lucie's observations are sometimes poetic and highly descriptive.
"It was late November as I recall, long after the cotton
had been picked and the hogs had been turned loose on the corn
fields. Sometime during the night a killing frost had crept down
from the north and set its mark in long icy letters on the window
glass of the big house. A fine mist lay over the land, a cloud
dropped from heaven. And a way off in the distance you could just
make out the thin line of chinaberry trees that flanked Kauchee
Coulee, their leaves so yellow and shiny they looked like they
had been dipped in gold."
Johnson is a writer of great ability yet sometimes stumbles over
things like "fair" for "fare." These blips
are rare, and the style of writing is clean and highly readable
throughout the book.
This is a book that signals the arrival of a talented writer.
Louisianians who beat a path to the bookstore can enjoy the story
of Lucie Trosclair. Book publishers would be wise to beat a path
to Johnson's door with contracts in hand. |
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