Louisiana came calling at The Barns at Wolf Trap Saturday, and it was met with the warmest of receptions. New Orleans rockers The Iguanas and guitar virtuoso Sonny Landreth did the traditions that make up the musical gumbo of the Land of Dreams proud in a brilliant show.
The state of Louisiana occupies an interesting and unique place in American culture, including its music. Its original heritage as a French colony is represented today by Cajun and Zydeco music. Part of the Mississippi Delta, you’ll find blues here, too. In the latter half of the 20th Century, the Crescent City — New Orleans — gave birth to funk, as well as its own brand of Southern soul. Located on the Gulf of Mexico (get that Gulf of America shit out of here), there are even Latin and Tex-Mex flavors from across its western border. The music is every bit as rich and flavorful as the famed cuisine.
Longtime musical veterans, The Iguanas have been playing what can be called Americana — a blend of all the styles mentioned above — since the ’90s. They’re not all natives of New Orleans, but they’ve made that city their home base and it bleeds through their work. They’ve played here many times over the years, even recording a live album in The Barns. Their lyrics are in Spanish as often as English, and they rock with an easygoing groove that’s infectious and draws you in. Being the kind of weirdo I am, I really enjoyed when they brought out the accordion for a few songs at Wolf Trap on March 7.
Watch The Iguanas perform “Soul Kiss” live on YouTube:
Guitar slinger Sonny Landreth has been around forever. He’s worked with tons of folks; the first time I ever saw him live was playing with John Hiatt at The Birchmere on the Slow Turning anniversary tour. His own music has garnered Grammy nominations and critical acclaim, and his awe-inspiring abilities on the six-string have earned him the respect of the fellow musicians. Landreth has a unique style to his playing: he’s a slide guitarist, but he’s also working the fret board with his other hand, making it sounds like there’s at least two musicians playing, if not more.
The blues and Cajun music form the basis of his sound, and he treated the audience to a couple of standards: “It Hurts Me Too” and Robert Johnson’s “Walking Blues.” He dedicated one of his songs to Johnny Winter and John Hammond, Jr., who just recently passed away. Another song was dedicated to his mentor, Clifton Chenier, the “King of Zydeco,” and also served as a tribute to his hometown of Lafayette (which I’ve heard of from Steve Earle’s “Telephone Road”). Sonny mentioned playing on a few tracks on the recent Chenier tribute album, which features an all-star slate of contributors (like the Rolling Stones) and just won a Grammy (and is, as he noted, available on vinyl).
Landreth did a couple of instrumentals, and his playing was simply remarkable. It tripped my synesthesia wires, and I felt like I was on a roller coaster even though I was quite comfortably seated. On a personal level, the combination of the music and the atmosphere — the Barns is a wonderful room — was healing for me. I’ve been dealing with a flare-up of my longtime neck problems, and this evening served as a reset for my nervous.
In addition to the covers and instrumentals, Sonny did a few of his original songs, too. “Speak of the Devil,” he said, he wrote “way back in 1981, when I was 15 years old”). He also played “Cherry Bomb Blues,” and for his encore, “Congo Square,” about a site that served as a focal point in NOLA for African-American music (and is still vital today).
Watch Sonny Landreth perform “Congo Square” live in Dallas in 2016 via YouTube:
When I was a kid, my parents took us on a cruise that left from the port in New Orleans, but I didn’t have a chance to see the city. It’s long been at the top of places I want to visit, for the music, culture, food, history, and its gothic mythos. This show only reinforced my desire to see it; the Iguanas and Sonny Landreth’s music has a wonderful specificity and sense of place. That these are phenomenally talented musicians is only amplified by their strong sense of identity, their conscious desire to represent a place and tradition.
For all the benefits to our modern, interconnected world, the music the Iguanas and Landreth make may, sadly, represent the tail end of genuine regional sounds and styles. I don’t bemoan our modern world — it’s far easier to pursue my niche, subcultural interests today than it was in childhood and adolescent — but, like any change, there are things lost as well as gained.
