Guest Blogger: Michael Patrick Welch
Why even go to Essence Fest if you’re going to miss the reunion of En Vogue?
As I did.
Well, there is Al Green… I entered the Dome’s big main room just as original funkstress Teena Marie began her most notable (to youngsters under 40) hit, Lover Girl. Teena did not sound as sassy as when the song was recorded. Her huskier voice plus her hair cut and color, her small dark sunglasses, and the Paisley Telecaster she strummed, made her look and sound a lot more like Melissa Etheridge. However, her new songs—from her upcoming New Orleans-themed album Congo Square—bent toward her voice’s new deeper tone, and in the end sounded stronger and more vibrant than her many hits. On the Congo Square duet, Can’t Last A Day, Marie’s daughter Rose LaBeau came out and filled in singing for Faith Evans.
In the McDonalds Superlounge the Rebirth Brass band (with what seemed like a dozen or more members) gave hundreds of tourists what they can’t get anywhere else: not just searing brass and funky jumbled marching drums, but sentences such as, “Y’all feelin all right tonight y’all!?!”
Nowhere else.
Next door in the other Superlounge, rock and soul artist Dan Dyer held the attention of a small crowd that nonetheless doubled by the end of his Jeff Buckley-esque set on guitar and warm electric piano.
Back on the main stage, Al Green was as cool as ever, master of his domain, ending songs with that otherworldly high note and lyrics about God that never sound preachy, despite that Green’s a certified Reverend. Love And Happiness, Can’t Get Next To You. Let’s Get Married made, even me, a cynical new-millennium dude, see why someone might wanna get married—just as Green laid into, Lay It Down.
Guest Blogger: Alison Fensterstock
Outside and a few blocks away, fireworks exploded brilliantly over the Mississippi river as fans flowed into the Dome at sunset for the second night of Essence Fest 2009. Inside, the show was also pretty dazzling.
Jazmine Sullivan opened the main stage Saturday night with her 2009 R&B hit, Bust Your Windows. There’s really no delicate way to describe the song’s message – it’s about smashing up an ex’s ride, and the resultant healing power of vengeful violence. (“I guess I’ll always have these ugly scars/ but I don’t care about that part.”) Sullivan, a protégé of Missy Elliott, is an interesting diva – her range isn’t as awesome as some, but her delivery is intense. She dropped to her knees several times during the set to deliver the song, and the audience was definitely buying it.
Up in the Superlounges, New Orleans gutbucket bluesman Little Freddie King got country, playing raw, rough-edged guitar tunes like Hot Fingers and Chicken Dance, off of his 2005 Fat Possum Records release You Don’t Know What I Know. The Louisiana-to-Los Angeles transplants the Knux stirred it up with a blend of old-school hip-hop and winking hipsterism, making sure to give props to their hometown – they even gave a shout-out to 2-Cent, a student-run music video collective from the University of New Orleans, who were early supporters.
Back on the mainstage, former Gap Band frontman Charlie Wilson proved he was still a pro with a show, rocking through costume changes and syncopated dance moves. His set pulled the crowd out of their seats with New Jack swing classics from the Gap Band as well as tracks from his February album, Uncle Charlie, which had included guest spots from Snoop Dogg and T-Pain. Old school and new school blended seamlessly, and fans from both factions clamored when Wilson tossed his glitter-speckled fedora into the crowd.
By 1 a.m., headliner Maxwell had still not graced the stage for his midnight set, and the crowd was restless, leaving in droves. Though they’d waited patiently for almost a decade while the neo-soul man was on career hiatus, the extra hour – after the evening’s marathon of music – proved a little too much.
Brennan’s Restaurant in New Orleans
Photo Credit: Zave Smith
Guest Blogger: Denise Campbell
Visiting New Orleans without a layover at internationally renowned Brennan’s restaurant is simply inconceivable. In fact, it’s unforgivable. From the impeccable service to the culinary masterpieces created by Chef Lazone Randolph, Brennan’s is a bastion of fine French/Creole dining. Whether you choose the old world elegance of the main dining room or are ensconced within the lush seclusion of the courtyard, brunch at Brennan’s is an unhurried affair: the way it’s meant to be; the way the Aristocrats did it.
I always say yes to the mellow smoothness of the chicory coffee - although I am not in my real life a coffee drinker. Yes, it’s that enticing. I get down to the serious business of choosing my three courses— appetizer, entree and dessert from the Table d’Hote. No easy feat. Epicurean delights abound: Eggs Sardou - poached eggs on artichoke bottoms nestled in a bed of creamed spinach and covered with hollandaise sauce - is a Brennan’s original and can be found on the menu of many Creole restaurants; Eggs Hussarde - poached eggs atop Holland rusks with Canadian bacon and Marchand de Vin topped with hollandaise sauce; Eggs Ellen - grilled filet of fresh salmon topped with poached eggs and hollandaise sauce. I choose the Turtle Soup with a dash of sherry and the Eggs La Nouvelle Orleans - poached eggs served on a bed of lump crab meat topped with Brennan’s brandy-cream sauce - with a side of oysters. I eye my companions’ orders of Veal Shawn and Blackened Redfish and have no qualms about having a generous helping of both. The waiter’s suggestion of a Fleur de Lis - champagne with a blend of Grand Marnier and Lilet Blonde - is the ideal companion and the first sip sends an explosion of citrus flavor straight to my head. Whoa!
For dessert, it’s Bananas Foster: bananas sautéed in butter, brown sugar, cinnamon and banana liqueur, and I am in fact, sitting at the very table where it was created. The venerable Chef Lazone - on whom I’ve had a food crush for eons - emerges from his kitchen to make it himself and the stars in my eyes are brighter than the burst of flames that envelop the concoction.
Hhhhmm. Sinfully delicious!
Beyonce at Essence ‘09
Photo Credit: Zave Smith
Guest Blogger: Michael Patrick Welch
We arrived at Essence Festival just as Salt and Pepa, the most famous girl rappers of all time rushed onto the stage, flanked by two-story columns of Las Vegas lights. As the ladies, their famous girl DJ, Spinderella (now with Mac laptop wired to her turntables), and three loosely choreographed dancers brought to life hit after hit (Shoop, the go-go song Shake Yo Thang, and a premature Push It) the Superdome’s sound was much better than I remembered. The girls’ big, old-school bass was creamy, and I understood every word even on the few unfamiliar songs. The ladies looked good, Pepa even sexier than her young self. To everyone’s surprise, the trio’s hit What A Man, did not feature an appearance by girl singing group En Vogue, who’d recently reunited and would perform later in the Essence weekend.
Great New Orleans DJ EF Cuttin and MC Blacknificent DJ’d a “grown folks party” set. By which, I mean old-school jams and a Michael Jackson tribute (MJ was the day’s overarching theme) and the Will Smith hit, Getting Jiggy Wit It (not EF Cuttin’s finest moment). Regardless, he succeeded in revving the crowd for Solange.
Though Solange despises comparisons to her headlining sister, she can be most easily described, in a good way, as a toned-down Beyonce. Solange is just as gorgeous, but wore a plain v-neck t-shirt and stretch-pants. While her sister would later perform with a 13-piece all-girl band including two drummers and a horn section, Solange chose four handsome young dudes reminiscent of indy-rockers, Spoon. Rather than giant screens and confetti explosions, Solange and her two backup singers executed well-rehearsed, classic girl-group choreography, embellished with rock-centric microphone stand moves. Solange’s songs (some of which were co-written by Cee-Lo of Goodie Mob and Gnarls Barkley) are mostly dance music, hook driven, but shift times and moods in interesting ways, and never make reference to anyone’s booty. (With sheer personality, talent, and good writing, Solange managed to obscure the big SUV that was her backdrop.)
Indoor sunglasses are an Essence Fest tradition (the A/C in the dome is also kept on about 60-degrees, so that, I assume, people can wear three-piece suits in summer). Returning to the main stage, I slid my own glasses on so that I could privately shed a few tears as the giant screens played a long tribute to Michael Jackson. The Preservation Hall Jazz band moaned a few sad second-line tunes for the most touching performance of the evening.
Next up was John Legend. Legend walked through the crowd like a wrestler on his way to the stage. He has always seemed a handsome, charming young crooner and pianist, but I’m only familiar with his newer song that opens with Andre 3000 reminding you he’s the Jimi Hendrix of rap.
I left to find another young neo soul artist called Dwele perform in the McDonalds Superlounge. Dwele ended before I could form an opinion, and was followed by beloved local bounce music pioneer DJ Jubilee. Jubilee clued the tourists into the true sounds of modern day New Orleans, where the bass is so loud because the words barely matter—unless it’s Jubilee himself instructing you to perform some wild neighborhood dance. Jubilee recharged me for the headlining act.
Beyonce Knowles is one of the few pop artists of our time who aspires to anything like a Michael Jackson level of talent and showmanship. No way is she as good as Michael. But her singing and dancing talents are undeniable. Tension was thick as the masses crowded around the main stage, ready for her performance.
After a commercial break from the various sponsors, we were hit upside the head with Beyonce. She opened with Crazy In Love, and for 20-minutes sprinted through the more famous end of her high-energy catalog. Her monstrous all-girl band provided the noise for explosive, impossibly choreographed dance routines. Beyonce never seemed to break a sweat. A screen so high-definition it bordered on 3D mesmerized with close-ups and psychedelic tricks. The colors of the stage’s Las Vegas columns seemed barely able to keep up with the show, and Beyonce’s forceful yet effortless singing cut through the dome like a laser. It was all truly awesome. Until she hit the slow songs.
She began with the Joan Osbourne-esque single, If I were a Boy from her new split-personality double album, I Am…Sasha Fierce. Until then she’d had the crowd on their feet. Now we all sat down. Beyonce followed up with a string of hair-blown Disney type ballads decorated with clouds and sky projections. When she finally launched into Alanis Morrisette’s, You Oughta Know, I made my way to the door—pausing under the exit sign for the duration of the Lil’ Wayne-inspired, “Diva.” I surely would have stayed had I not been worn by a full day at Essence Fest.
Rocking Performances at Essence ‘09
Photo Credit: Zave Smith
Guest Blogger:Alison Fensterstock
One of my favorite parts of Essence Fest doesn’t even happen in the Dome. You can always tell the big weekend is starting, usually, when two things start happening on Poydras Street: one, huge crowds of dressed-to-kill festgoers parade in sky-high heels and ice-cream-colored summer dresses and linen suits from the hotels near the river toward the show. It’s a trek, but it’s better than finding parking, and it’s like watching a runway.
Two, a funky shantytown of vendors pops up in the blocks around the Dome, selling everything from handmade jewelry to barbecue. This year, I was especially excited to see what kind of Michael Jackson memorabilia would be on offer, but sadly, this year there was no vending – for no reason I could figure. (Does anyone out there know?)
In any case, lack of distraction got me to the Dome on time to see Salt-N-Pepa kick off the weekend with the mainstage’s first set. The duet was slicker and more polished than when they busted up the charts in 1986, as hip-hop’s first platinum-selling female act, and though both they and DJ Spinderella are hardly the bouncy, bratty teens they were, they don’t lack for a drop of energy. Classics like Push It and My Mic Sound Nice sounded totally true to form, and a couple of tracks the pair debuted from their upcoming project were top-notch vintage Salt-N-Pepa. In the first of what would be many, and many more elaborate tributes to Michael Jackson throughout the night, they dedicated their ’93 hit Whatta Man to the late singer.
Keeping it truly old-school in the McDonald’s Superlounge early in the evening was the legendary Preservation Hall Jazz Band, who also paid tribute to MJ, but with a twist. The group played a rollicking trad-jazz take on Rockin’ Robin, which Jackson recorded in 1972 with the Jackson 5.
Pres Hall had its own connection to the song. Elliot Gabriel, brother of the Hall’s clarinetist, Charlie Gabriel, had sung backup on Bobby Day’s original– in 1957.
How insane is it that I have been invited to a gala at the Food and Beverage Museum honoring the iconic, grand dame of Creole cooking Leah Chase of famed Dookie Chase restaurant?! Even more amazing is that she remembers meeting me in February and is happy to see me again. The gala is lined with food tables laden with creations by some of the industry’s most innovative masters. I am sure I have floated off to glory land as I survey the choices.
Shall I start with the Duck etouffe with jalapeno cornbread and Louisiana pepper jelly from Upperline’s Chef Ken Smith; the Pan-seared prime beef and wild mushroom vol-au-vent served with pepper cream bourbon sauce by Chef Jack Martinez of Dickie Brennan’s Steakhouse or the Cran cakes from Mr. B’s? Someone whispers the goodness of Chef Donald Link of Herbsaint’s pork belly with pickled chiles. All the more tempting is the deviled eggs with crabmeat ravigote and Louisiana Choupique caviar. If the garden of eden had a bar it would serve Creole Queen Cocktail. To start, I sample the Shrimp Florentine by Chef Tory Stewart of Broussard’s Restaurant and chase it with Sean Thibodeaux’s Coconut infused white russian.
As the evening winds down, I kiss Leah good night and whisper, Thank you Mother.”
