What Leon Redbone Told Us About the American Soul
Leon Redbone just passed away at 69. Much too early. An enigmatic and quirky musician, he developed a cult following by bringing back old time Southern music much of which had been fading from our collective consciousness. Blues, Tin Pan Alley, Ragtime, Dixie jazz, folk. Tunes by Jelly Roll Morton, Hoagy Carmichael, Johnny Mercer. But also by artists you've likely never heard of: Blind Blake, Emmett Miller and Tony Jackson. Redbone, with his Panama hat, shades and riverboat attire, lovingly brought them back to life with his gravelly bass punctuated by surprise yodels, warbles and mellifluous whistling that carried you to another era of slow gentility, resigned suffering and wry flights of fancy. Ailing for several years, he penned a playful farewell:
It is with heavy hearts we announce that early this morning, May 30th, 2019, Leon Redbone crossed the delta for that beautiful shore at the age of 127. He departed our world with his guitar, his trusty companion Rover, and a simple tip of his hat… An eternity of pouring through texts in the Library of Ashurbanipal will be a welcome repose, perhaps followed by a shot or two of whisky with Lee Morse, and some long overdue discussions with his favorite Uncle, Suppiluliuma I of the Hittites. To his fans, friends, and loving family who have already been missing him so in this realm he says, ‘Oh behave yourselves. Thank you… and good evening everybody.'
I recently returned from three weeks in Louisiana, where most of Redbone's music originated. Not so much a state as a stream of consciousness filled with captivating cultures, complex ethnicities and a seductive way of life that will add to your waistline, give you a drawl, slow you down and bathe your soul in wonderful omnipresent music. Blues. Jazz. Rock. Cajun folk. It's always just around the corner if not in your face. And folks will drop what they're doing for a dance in the street. Or a hot beignet with a café au lait. New Orleans, with its fanciful architecture and tropical decadence, will seduce you like an aging but still beautiful Dixie dowager. La Louisiane may come in last in poverty and health metrics, but wins hands-down in the joi de vivre department. Go to New York to make money. Go to Louisiana to make love.
Another throwback to a past era is Tuba Skinny, eight, or so, young pick-up musicians who play early jazz and blues. As with Redbone, their growing popularity is bringing back interest in these traditional American music genres. With their exact, in-sync renditions, the band conjures up the spirits of Bessie Smith, Bunk Johnson, the Mississippi Sheiks, Sam Morgan’s Jazz Band, Blind Boy Fuller, the Memphis Jug Band, Kit Stymie Stovepipe, among many more. Old time New Orleans jazz is rambunctious, infectious, joyous. If you're ever in NOLA, make them a must-see. Often, you can catch them busking on Royal Street or at the city's landmark record shop, Louisiana Music Factory. Vocalist Erika Lewis is mesmerizing as she channels Marlene Johnson:
You’re gonna wake up one mornin’
And find everything wrong at home.
When you walk into the kitchen
Your biscuit roller will be gone.
Now when I leave you baby,
I’ll be gone for a long, long time,
I’ll be gone for a long, long time.
You can get a new roller but the bread won’t be like mine.
As she wryly tells the audience, if you don't know what "biscuits" and "biscuit rollers" are, you'll figure it out.
The music is quintessentially American. Dig under the surface of jazz, blues, rock and the like and you find rich strata of African rhythms intertwined with European folk music. The discrete styles simmered like a delicious gumbo over decades, yielding distinct, vividly American art forms. Like American society itself, the music is the product of a melting pot.
And the musicians who entertain us with it are black, white, Latino, you-name-it. Shaye Cohn, leader of Tuba Skinny, is half Jewish and half Japanese. A proud all-American. Leon Redbone was of Armenian ancestry, born in Cyprus, raised in Canada, transplanted to the United States as a young man. Yet, like his music, he was American through and through.
Which gets me to the troubles facing us today. Those torch-bearing hate-mongers, whistle-blowing pseudo-pundits and America-Firsters who are quick to defame those of different cultural backgrounds will, at the drop of a hat, tap their feet to tunes midwifed by fellow Americans whom they deride. Call this Hypocrisy Blues. These folks would be well advised to pay heed to Leon Redbone, "Please Don't Talk About Me When I'm Gone":
Please don't talk about me when I'm gone
Oh honey, though our friendship ceases from now on,
And listen, if you can't say anything real nice,
It's better not to talk at all is my advice.