the dance halls. Most times the clubs would be so packed with revelers that you could just make occasional glimpses of the musicians through flailing arms and legs of the dancers. But that sound! There was no problem hearing the amazing music coming from these guys. It was the sound of South Louisiana...rock and roll, blues, Chank-a Chank...the Beans did it all. And the best thing, for me personally, they did it with the gigantic guitar sound of Tommy Shreve. He played a red Gibson 335, that I can still hear when I close my eyes. These guys had soul! I don't think folks were as conscious 
of musical genre's back then....or at least, nobody made a big deal if the band played soul, rock, and country in the same set. People just danced and enjoyed the music. In my mind, there was no higher calling than to be in a band. It was the coolest thing ever. This is the band I grew up on. This is why The Bluerunners sound the way we do. There were so many great bands and musicians during this time; Clifton Chenier, A Train; Little Queenie and the Percolators; Sonny Landreth with Blues Attack, Beausoliel, Bas Clas; Rockin Dopsie (senior); Bo, Brian and Edwards, and of course all the Swamp Pop guys, like Tommy Mclain, Warren Storm, GG Shin, and TK Hulan. And that's just off the top of my head, there were many, many more artists playing here at that time. Oil field money and expense accounts bank rolled the whole scene, and the party just rolled on and on. In the 80's things went to shit for a while. The clubs closed or switched to DJ's spinning records. Cajun food became blackened anything, rather than what it had always been, round steak and rice and gravy. And worst of all, the music got separated into specific genres, with all kinds of arbitrary criteria. I still haven't really accepted that part. It used to be all the bands down here were funky, and bluesy, and if they threw in some Cajun and/or Zydeco that was all the better.
I just want to throw in a bit about the clubs of that time. Namely, Jay's in Cankton, Hamilton's Club, Grant Street Dance Hall, Goin' West, Boo Boo's, Mother's Mantel, and Antler's. Some of them are still around, but most have been plowed under. I went looking for Jay's one time, and when I found it there was nothing but a dilapidated shack with weeds growing right through the middle of the place. Only the rusted out sign that was propped against the debris let me know I was in the right place. The faded letters still said Jay's Lounge and Cock Pit. It was a real kick in the stomach. This place was legendary. It epitomized the era, the people, and the music....and it was a crumbling old shack.
Anyway, I wrote this song about it:
Cankton
(click link for the mp3)
In most cases, I find nostalgia to be a huge bore, but I truly loved this time of my life. Nothing will ever sound like that again
4 comments:
Great song! Brings back a flood of memories... Trying to dance to Asleep at the Wheel at Jay's in the early '70's with two left feet and too much Wild Turkey swimming round my head. Never saw any cockfighing though.
This song is something special, one of the Bluerunner's best. There's a lot of truth in it. It has a way of bringing you back to a different time and place. If it doesn't stir something inside you, you better check your pulse. The guitar work is amazing. It soars like a rocket of joy.
George Baumgartner has that sign now and is writing some stories to remember Jay's by. He used to manage a few of those bars. If you know him tell him some tales for his book.
Sniff. I used to go to Jays in the mid 70's. I'm probably a few years older than you. We'd see Asleep at the Wheel, Big Cheyanne and of course Clifton. I remember having to park half a mile from Jays on the highway on Saturday nights when Clifton was playing. You could hear the music as you walked up to the place. Rember those old Looney Tunes where inanimate objects would dance to the old jazz tunes, things like teapots, knives and forks and houses? Well I swear I could see the building tweaking from side to side, just like in those old cartoons. Lotta memories.
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