Rock and Roll Voodoo

by Mark Paul Smith

  “I never thought you were. I just wonder why the other guys can’t hear it.”

  Jesse had been developing his own theory on that topic. “Maybe the Voodoo connection is there for everybody but people can only hear it when they get tuned in for one reason or another.”

  Tim and Jesse talked until the first light of dawn began to shine. It felt like they were about to make a great spiritual breakthrough for a while and then the whole thing faded back into mystery and confusion.

  They fell silent for quite a while and were trying to get to sleep when Tim said, “Maybe this is what that voice meant when it said, ‘This man is a slave owner.’”

  Jesse knew Tim was talking about the cocaine, which was still keeping them uncomfortably awake. Instead of responding directly to the drug issue, Jesse used a line of wisdom from Carmen. “We are all running away from many things and we are all slaves to many masters.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  TIPITINA’S

  Jesse walked into Tipitina’s on the night of the big show and was surprised to run into Carmen in full party regalia. She was dressed for the evening in a purple-velvet Nehru jacket that came down to the mid-thigh of her lime-green, silk slacks. Her red hair was tied on top of her head with a golden ribbon. She wore no hat or turban. Her necklace was clasped in front with golden snakes that looked like they were making love. Her high-heeled shoes were as golden as the snakes and shimmering like glitter on a mirror.

  Jesse looked her up and down and let out a low wolf whistle before asking the question he’d been wanting to ask for some time. “Why didn’t you tell me you know Dr. John?”

  Carmen smiled broadly and spun around for Jesse to get the full view of her outfit for the evening. “I’m not a namedropper.”

  It was 7 p.m. and The Divebomberz were setting up for the show along with musicians and soundmen for Dr. John, Professor Longhair, and Aaron Neville. Carmen was a guest of honor. She was holding court like she owned the place.

  Jesse remembered his manners. “You look fabulous.”

  Carmen held out her hand for Jesse to kiss it. “That’s more like it. If you want, I’ll introduce you to Dr. John when he gets here. You two have a lot in common.”

  “I would love that,” Jesse said as he escorted her to the bar and asked if he could buy her a drink.

  The longhaired bartender came around the bar to give Carmen a big hug. “No one but me will be buying this bayou queen a drink. Let’s see, what’ll it be? Let me guess. Oh, I know. The lady will have her fabulous rum potion.”

  “Thank you, Jackson,” she said with a Cheshire smile. “You know what I like. This is my friend, Jesse.”

  “You playing tonight?” Jackson asked Jesse.

  “I’m with The Divebomberz.”

  “Right on, man. You got some heavyweight company tonight. This place is going to be on fire.”

  Dale heard the comment as he walked up to the bar. “Let’s hope it doesn’t go up in flames like the Safari Club.”

  “Was that you guys?” Jackson asked.

  Dale was only too happy to enlighten anyone within hearing distance. “Oh, yeah, that was The Divebomberz at the Safari fire. If it hadn’t been for Jesse here, the band and five hundred people would’ve died in that fire.”

  Jackson reached over the bar to shake Dale’s hand. “Well, well. It is, indeed, a pleasure to meet you. We’ve heard all about The Divebomberz. Wow, it’s going to be a wild night.”

  “Somebody must have been watching out for you at the Safari Club,” Carmen said with a wink that only Jesse caught.

  “Madame Carmen, I presume,” Dale said, bowing in introduction. “I’m in Jesse’s band, or he’s in mine, we’re not sure which. It is a great pleasure to meet you. Jesse’s told us so many good things about you.”

  Carmen reached out for Dale. He kissed her hand with a flourish that was not lost on the Voodoo priestess. She pretended to nearly faint from excitement. “Oh, my. I see we have an experienced gentleman here.”

  Tim and Rene and Butch joined the conversation at the bar. Carmen greeted each one like an old friend. “Don’t forget, I was a fan of The Divebomberz back when you were playing Fritzel’s.”

  “Jackson,” she said, turning to the bartender, “Could we get a round of Heinekens for my band?”

  “On the house,” Jackson said.

  Carmen beamed at the band. “See, I even remember what you drink.”

  Looking around the club, Jesse could see it wasn’t big enough to hold what was bound to be a massive turnout for the show. Tipitina’s was a two-story, wood-frame house along the main curve of the Mississippi River where Napolean Avenue runs into Tchoupitoulas Street. The club had only recently been opened by a group of music lovers known as The Fabulous Fo’teen. They founded it as a tribute to Professor Longhair and a place for him to play out his later years.

  “How many people will this place hold?” Jesse wondered out loud.

  “We’ll be dancing across Tchoupitoulas Street and across the tracks and down to the river tonight,” Carmen said as she took a mighty swig from her rum and coke double with a thick slice of lime and a dash of coconut.

  “We got a ten dollar cover charge,” Jackson said. “That’ll keep out some of the riff raff. Probably get about three hundred and fifty people in here if the fire Marshall don’t show.”

  As he was talking, Jesse saw the mystery man from the bayou walk in the door with Ruthie the duck lady. Somehow, on some level he didn’t understand, it made perfect sense that Ruthie, the mystery man, and Carmen would all be in the same place at the same time. Ruthie was obviously much more than the quack she pretended to be. She had introduced Jesse to Carmen, who had explained the Voodoo of the mystery man, and now the mystery man was bringing Ruthie to Tipitina’s.

  The straight line of Jesse’s mind became a circle. His knees went so weak he almost fell to the floor. In a flash, he realized the truth about the universe. We manufacture our own reality, he thought. These three people are all part of the same thing. We find people to teach us what we know we need to learn. We are all part of each other’s learning curve. This epiphany nearly blinded him as he saw the light for the first time. He had accidentally stumbled onto what the Buddhists call “the nature of mind.” His heightened state of consciousness didn’t last long. He forgot most of the inspirational moment the instant he began to speak.

  He ran over to greet the man from the bayou. “Hey man. Long time no see. Remember me?”

  The mystery man answered with a question that let Jesse know he remembered their first meeting. “You going to sing ‘Jambalaya’ tonight?”

  “Every night,” Dale interjected as introductions were made all around.

  Ruthie wasn’t wearing her housecoat. She was in costume as some kind of fairy tale princess. She had no ducks in tow. She greeted Carmen like a long lost sister. “You look like the Voodoo queen.”

  Carmen hugged Ruthie and the mystery man at the same time. “We only serve the Voodoo queen, and I am quite sure she will be here in spirit tonight.”

  “How do you know Ruthie the duck lady?” Jesse asked the mystery man.

  The man looked at Jesse and winked. “Everybody knows Ruthie.”

  Carmen took Ruthie by the hand. “Where’s Professor Longhair?”

  “He’s staying sober for the most part,” Ruthie said. “He and Dr. John are over at Aaron Neville’s house for dinner.”

  Carmen laughed and drank the rest of her drink. “Imagine that gumbo.”

  As the band was excusing itself to complete their set up, Jesse took the mystery man aside. “Don’t leave without getting with me. I think we’ve got some catching up to do.”

  The man gave Jesse a thumbs-up sign. “I’ll be around. I’m not going anywhere. This is the place to be.”

  “Oh, and by the way,” Jesse added. “Thanks for showing us the mushroom field. It paid off in a big way.”

  “Did you find the Voodoo or did the Voodoo find you?”


  “I’m still working on that. I’m beginning to think it might be a little of both.”

  The club was packed to the rafters. The crowd was already going crazy by the time The Divebomberz played a couple rocked up Hank Williams tunes. Jesse couldn’t believe he was actually onstage at Tipitina’s and being cheered by the local crowd. After a few more songs, the band began sounding more full and musical than ever. Somehow, they had vaulted up to another level of musicality. Jesse couldn’t put his finger on what was happening. It felt like the band was levitating. He looked at Butch and he could tell Butch was feeling it too.

  When he turned around to check it out with Rene, he saw a black, bald-headed man playing along on one of the three pianos set up for the evening. It was Professor Longhair. The nickname originated in his younger days, when he still had hair.

  The Professor was such a sympathetic player you barely noticed he was there, filling in the perfect spaces and driving home one musical point after another. He gave The Divebomberz a new and improved sound. Jesse had never experienced anything similar. Everything that had been rocking was now rolling as well.

  The crowd didn’t notice “Fess” until he took a lead on a hard rock version of “Foggy Mountain Breakdown,” a bluegrass standard generally reserved for banjo. Tim was playing fiddle on the break until Professor Longhair took over with a choppy syncopation of right hand triplets that turned the whole song inside out. The light man illuminated the Professor in the middle of his virtuosity. The crowd cheered so loudly it felt like the room might explode. Everybody knew the night was going to be as wild a ride as the one the Professor just took on his piano.

  After playing for a few more songs, the legendary music man waved happily and left the stage for the band to finish their set. The crowd begged him not to go. Jesse would never again be musically satisfied until he found a keyboard player of his own. Professor Longhair had shown him the missing ingredient.

  The band strutted through the rest of their high-energy set. The crowd was with them all the way. For the last song, they rocked the club with a rousing, sing-a-long version of “Big Old Jet Airliner.” The Steve Miller song they had learned at Pete’s house on the river came in handy as a set closer. Jesse had to admit to himself that he had been wrong in not wanting the song on the playlist. People were screaming for more and stomping their feet on the wooden floor. Butch and Jesse put down their instruments and walked off the stage to let the crowd know the set was over. A commotion of people began moving through the crowd toward the stage. Once the group reached the lights, out stepped Dr. John himself. It was like Hollywood Jesus jumping out of a birthday cake. The crowd recoiled in amazement as he climbed onstage and took control of the event on the lead microphone.

  “What did you expect?” he shouted as the crowd recovered and roared its approval. “This is Santa Claus Dr. John and I’m back home in New Orleans for Christmas.”

  The crowd cheered and surged forward. Bouncers took positions in front of the stage to protect Dr. John. The club was dangerously overcrowded and many more were still trying to get in. People were lined up outside the door and around the corner for two blocks down Tchoupitoulas Street.

  Dr. John tried to settle them down. “Hey now. Don’t nobody get hurt now. Settle down with me. We’ve got things to do tonight. I thought I’d come by to play with my main man, Professor Longhair. Y’all good with that?”

  The crowd response was deafening. It rocked the old house like a boat on the water. People stopped crowding forward in a noticeable response to Dr. John’s request to think about each other’s safety.

  “Oh, and let’s not forget my other main man, Aaron Neville.”

  Somehow, the crowd got even louder.

  “So, how about a big hand for The Divebombers? I see they got you going.”

  The crowd let the band know they had held their own at the epicenter of New Orleans music. Their applause made Jesse feel the power of music deep in his bones. The vibration in the room felt like it could heal all wounds and bring harmony to every corner of the world.

  Dr. John left them cheering and went backstage as the soundmen set up for the main show. Pete motioned for the band to join him at the rear of the stage. “Gentlemen, I’d like you to meet Allen Toussaint. Allen, meet The Divebomberz.”

  “Oh, wow, what an honor,” Butch said as he shook Toussaint’s hand. Jesse shook his hand without saying anything. For once, he was at a loss for words.

  Toussaint bowed slightly, like a southern gentleman. “The honor is mine. You guys sounded great. I love your sound. The crowd loved you. And you must be doing something very right if you’ve got Professor Longhair sitting in with you.”

  Jesse related instantly. “I know, I couldn’t believe he did that. I felt him playing before I heard a single note.”

  Toussaint acknowledged the phenomenon with a nod of his head and turned the conversation to the music business. “Pete tells me he’s going to put you guys into the recording studio. I’ll be ready to hear what you can do, especially with your originals. Who knows? We might be working together someday soon.”

  As Butch was saying how much the band would love to work with Toussaint, Carmen interrupted. “Gentlemen, I’ve got some people here who want to meet you.”

  Jesse turned to see Dr. John, Professor Longhair, and Aaron Neville stepping out of the backstage shadows to congratulate the band on their set. Jesse was speechless. It felt like he had arrived, in a way, but it also felt surreal.

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” Dale said.

  Tim reached out to shake Professor Longhair’s hand. “You sounded great, Professor. Thanks for playing with us.”

  The Professor was all grins and good times. “My pleasure, gentlemen. I don’t think I’ve ever played bluegrass like that before. I had fun but I couldn’t help but think it might sound even better at a slower tempo.”

  “Hallelujah,” Rene said. “I’ve been telling them that for months.”

  Butch was star-struck. “I can’t believe I’m meeting three of my all time heroes at the same time. This is like being backstage at the Grammys.”

  A waiter stepped in with a tray of drinks. All present took whatever cocktail they could grab.

  Aaron Neville spoke from experience. “I can guarantee you. This is a lot more fun than the Grammys.”

  The Professor agreed. “It’s more real, for sure. This crowd is over the top tonight.”

  Dr. John proposed a toast.

  Everybody raised his glass and waited.

  “A toast to Tipitina’s and to Professor Longhair, the man who taught us all, that when it comes to music, and everything else, the only way to keep what you have is to give it away.”

  The musicians clinked glasses and drank together. Jesse could see they were energized by each other. He could feel the magic of the crowd eagerly awaiting their music. Jesse realized he’d heard the message of Dr. John’s toast before, from Carmen.

  The best thing about the backstage moment for Jesse was the realization that The Divebomberz had been invited to join a brotherhood of the highest order.

  Aaron Neville took the stage first. It didn’t take him long to swoon the room with sweet soul. He had a drummer with a kit quite a bit smaller than Rene’s. Neville’s bass player and guitar player laid down a rhythm that was completely in the pocket. The Divebomberz listened and learned. There were such powerful emotions coming out of Neville and his band. They were not driving as hard as a rock band. They were more sensual and even sexual. Neville was turning the crowd on to the sweet mysteries of musical magic.

  Before people knew what hit them, Dr. John and Professor Longhair were easing themselves into the band, along with several horn players and backup singers. It was a gradual buildup that couldn’t have been planned any better than it evolved. The musical train started chooglin’ on down the line. Neville started smooth, Longhair made it funky and Dr. John pushed the whole thing into show band mode. The train kept picking up speed, blowing by
small town stops on its way to rocking-soul city.

  Just when the crowd felt they couldn’t take it anymore, the band backed it down for a ballad by Neville. He sang “Tell It Like Is” better than Jesse had ever heard it. One overhead spotlight bathed him in light like he was standing beneath a street lamp. It was a breathless moment.

  Once the song was over, it took people a few seconds to collect themselves and begin applauding. The applause was as soft as the singing at first. Then, it grew into an ovation befitting the legendary talent who had just given their souls a tune up. Neville stood up and took a gracious bow. Then he sat down and did a complete mood shift with a surprise version of “I’m Walking” by Fats Domino. Jesse couldn’t believe Neville’s emotional range. Professor Longhair jumped on the New Orleans beat and sang a verse. Then Dr. John did the same. The horn section hit the roof as the saxophone wailed an inspirational solo. Jesse looked out at the crowd. They looked like they were witnessing the rapture.

  From there, the three piano men took off into a blues-jazz instrumental. The Professor rolled out a beat motif. Neville pounced on it and turned it over to Dr. John, who ran with it. The legendary musicians were playing a three-way game of pitch and catch with rhythms and melodies. The drummer and the bass player and the horns were in perfect sync. It was a blend of musical styles and genres. It was musical gumbo.

  Jesse took mental notes on performance dynamics and how to take an audience on an emotional roller coaster ride.

  “These guys are putting on a clinic,” Butch yelled in Jesse’s ear.

  Jesse agreed. “Oh, yeah. We’ve got to start doing this kind of stuff. Passing the ball around, I mean.”

  Jesse saw Amy trying to work her way backstage. He fought through the fans and hugged her back into the shadows. She was crying tears of joy. “I never thought I’d be part of anything like this. It’s like a gospel revival and a blues review and a jazz fest all rolled into one. You guys sounded great, by the way.” Jesse kissed her and held her at arm’s length to look in her eyes. “When did you get here?”