ARNAUDVILLE — Tommy Malone has always wanted to do what he’s doing now — and that’s his own material.
“It’s something I’ve dipped my toe in all along, even during the subdudes and in-between all the break-ups,” said Malone, frontman of the legendary Americana band out of New Orleans. “It’s just been sitting there and rarely do I get to play any of it.”
“So I’ve always had a hankering — always liked that word, hankering — to do this other material,” Malone said. “It’s just been sitting there and rarely do I get to play any of it.
“So, I’ll be bringing stuff that I’ve had for sometime, honestly, but haven’t had much of a chance to play for people,” he said.
NuNu’s is located at 1510 Bayou Courtableau Hwy. Tickets are $25 and available here.
“I’ve got this kind of hybrid guitar that’s somewhere between an acoustic and a baritone,” said Malone. “It’s what I use when I go on the road.”
The pandemic did a lot of things to a lot of people and most of it did not so good. For Malone and the subdudes, it brought an end to the band and a new beginning for the musicians.
“The group finally laid it to rest,” said Malone, who began charting a new, personal route for himself when covid hit the U.S. in March 2020. “And then simultaneously, the ’dudes just broke up.”
Malone said the split was something everyone agreed on.
“It just wasn’t fun anymore. It wasn’t creative. It wasn’t fun,” he said. “It seemed like everybody was interested in doing other things. It was kind of like the perfect time.
“It was mutual with everybody,” said Malone. “I’ve made peace with my fellas. Everybody’s doing fine and doing things they love; creative projects and stuff.”
Malone’s 2022 tour schedule takes him to Oklahoma, Chicago, Ann Arbor, Richmond and and he’s working on other shows in Annapolis, Philadelphia, Texas and the West Coast.
“I want it to be fun, creative and simple and I want it to make sense.”
Tommy Malone
Time and wisdom has Malone taking a different approach to performing, and keeping it to two gigs per outing figures prominently into it.
“I keep it simple. I limit my shows to two. I’ll go out, I’ll do two and I’ll come home,” he said. “I want it to be fun, not terribly difficult or draining. Even my voice, it won’t hold up like it used to.
“Simpler and easier is how I approach it, where it’s fun again. I feel like we used to always try to pack too much in. By the end of it, you’re just beat and worn out. Everybody’s in a bad mood.
“I want it to be fun, creative and simple and I want it to make sense,” said Malone. “And I want to go where people really are interested.”
In other words, the veteran musician is past the days of building an audience.
“I mean, that’s silly,” Malone said. “I have to take advantage of what I have now, or have done in the past, and work with that.
“But it is a young man’s game, you know?” he said. “But I’m happy to just go where people want to hear it.
“Like I said, do two shows on the road and then come home. And that is my approach,” Malone said. “Get a good night’s rest, eat well, take care of business, and that’s it, man. No delusions of grandeur.”
Come October, Malone hopes to be in Northern California “to do some recording,” with a full band, he said. “It’ll be my project, so I’m excited about that.”
Looking back on his music career, Malone pretty much jumped in the deep end and learned to swim.
“No plan,” said Malone. “Like Van Morrison said, ‘No plan B.’ I didn’t have any frickin’ plans. I was flailing around like a mongoose. I don’t know, you know what they say, stuff happens like it’s supposed to, I guess.
“But I feel very lucky. Very lucky that. I’m able to do this, still,” he said. “I don’t know if that sounds hokey or cheesy, but I’m amazed.
“I wasn’t real sure when the pandemic hit. I was going through some other stuff. It was good, but it was difficult and it kind of put you into some soul-searching mode like, ‘Man. What am I doing?’
“I almost wanted to quit,” Malone continued. “I almost just wanted to quit music and putter around the house ’til I’m 67 and get my social security and Medicare.
“Just write songs and just sit in my little space, play for myself,” he said. “But a friend of mine who was in the last version of the subdudes — Tim Cook — he’s a dear friend and he really was inspirational in getting me wanting to play again. He really was. So I’m grateful for that, too.”
Cook now manages Malone, who lives in Metairie.
“You know what, I never dreamed of living in Metairie. I was kinda like, ‘Metairie? Oh, lord,’” said Malone with a laugh. “But we’ve got this beautiful little house, nice backyard, and I’ve got a music space in a separate building.
“It’s quiet. It doesn’t flood, big plus,” he said. “Crime is honestly not an issue. I kinda like it. Kinda like it.”
Award-winning writer and musician Dege Legg, aka Brother Dege, has charted an unconventional career course, following a creative spirit and impulsive gut along a zig-zag path that has included stints as a journalist, warehouseman, mechanic, homeless shelter caseworker, and for five years, late night cab driver in the Acadian hub city of Lafayette, Louisiana.
Documenting this dashboard vantage point of the after hours underworld of Cajun and Creole country is his new book, Cablog: Diary of a Cabdriver, out Nov. 10 by UL Press. Crafted from Legg’s personal journal, Cablog is a rare exhibit in the nonfiction genre, a poignant documentation of the often neglected fringe of our community. With an ear for dialogue and eye for detail, Legg captures the charm and despair of real-life character plights. Cablog picks us up for a shotgun ride through the storied downtown corners and less traveled backroads that, much like Brother Dege’s music, dive into a gritty Southern Gothic folklore that is both infamous and inspiring.
Nathan Stubbs (NS) caught up with Dege (BD) for a brief Q&A about Cablog, and how he’s coping through all the historical mayhem of 2020. Go here for a review.
NS: You’ve toured throughout North America and Europe several times with your band Brother Dege & The Brethren. How are you adjusting and what’s daily life like now that the pandemic has put live concerts and travel on hiatus?
BD: All good. To be honest, I needed a break from the grind. After a solid decade of banging around in vans, at the club level, I was a little burnt. I’d already blocked out the spring and summer 2020 for recording and the CABLOG book, so it all worked out perfectly with minimal distractions. And it gave me a chance to recharge the batteries. But now I’m feeling a little stir crazy and ready to roll.
NS: Do you expect live concerts will come back bigger than ever? Or is live entertainment forever changed?
BD: Who knows? All bets are off. But maybe both. It’ll probably come back huge at the enormo-dome level and slowly come back in the club sector. So many smaller venues have closed down because of the pandemic stuff that it may take a bit to get them back open. NS: You’ve worked so many jobs – musician, cab driver, journalist, line cook, homeless shelter caseworker. If you were to choose another career path aside from music, what do you think it would be?
BD: If I had to do it again, I would’ve gone the academic route and become a professor of something interesting or gone the full-pirate program and lived on a boat. NS: So many people are going through job adjustments with the coronavirus/COVID-19 pandemic. What’s Brother Dege’s best career advice?
BD: First off you have to be nuts to do music or art as a career after a certain age unless you’re lucky enough to be Bruce Springsteen or someone like that. It’s a tough living with a ton of anxiety. But then again, the creative life kind of chooses you, and then you just hang on and try to keep it out of the ditch. It ain’t always easy. Advice: trust your gut, take the slow-growth train, and don’t wait for anyone to do anything for you. Just go out and do it, especially if you live in the Deep South. Nobody’s going to do it for you.
BD: My quarantine TV diet is mostly exclusively composed of kooky YouTube videos on obscure topics like overunity generators, exopolitics, anti-gravitic technology, Van Halen live footage (1977-79), 20th century Arctic exploration (i.e. dudes getting stuck in the ice), and survival documentaries (dudes getting stuck on mountains), nanotech/A.I. (programmable matter). Plus a bunch of other nutty stuff.
NS: A lot of bands are increasingly featuring their music in commercial advertisements. Is that something you’ve considered? Could you ever see “Partial to the Bitters” as part of a coffee promotion or “Hard Row to Hoe” in like a John Deere ad?
BD: 20 years ago scoring a commercial was considered selling out. Now it’s like a saving grace moment for most indie artists. It’s the wild west out there in music land, so as long as you’re not selling war machinery or genocide, I think it’s fairly acceptable nowawdays. I’ve never had any of my music in any commercials, so I’m not sure what would work.
NS: You’ve also been nominated for a Grammy as well as being an award-winning writer. What accolade are you most proud of or is giving awards for art all bullshit?
BD: They’re kind of bullshit and ceremonial – pats on the back from the corporate overlords for being a good slave. But they also toss you credit in the straight world, so I don’t know. Not everything has to be art-damaged madness.
NS: In the book Cablog, you chronicle some of the racial prejudices, mental health issues and drug addictions that are very much in the news today in terms of police reform. What would you say you learned about law enforcement from the vantage point of a late night cab driver?
BD: Whew. Working nights, you’re right on the front lines of the craziest stuff that’s happening in your city on any given night, and cops are right up in it, so it’s not an easy job. I wouldn’t want to do it. And I don’t think most people that criticize cops would be up for doing it either. I’ve been roughed up by cops in the past, but maybe I had it coming, so fair play. But they definitely overreact a lot, probably as a result of getting burnt out and cynical, while cleaning up the mess that’s part of any system. I should remind people that I’m just a kooky artist and definitely don’t have all the answers.
NS: Do you think there’s another book in your future? What other topics could you see yourself delving into in book form?
BD: Yes. The plan is to do a series of books of the “LOG” variety. The next book in the series would be a ROADLOG book – about my experiences touring in rock & roll bands over the past 20 years. CABLOG covered 5 years on the job. ROADLOG encompasses 20 years of the kookiest, nuttiest, most absurd stories from the road, all of which I’ve been documenting in a massive Word document that will be a challenge to edit and revise, but it’ll be worth it. I may have to split into two ROADLOG books (Pt. 1 & 2). Musicians are pretty entertaining creatures when they’re not on a stage. After the ROADLOG book, I have another LOG-type book in mind. It’s still coming into focus. But that’ll make it a set of three in the LOG series. Hopefully, people will be able to buy them like a box-set of CDs, but it’ll be books, which will be cool, I think. It’ll look nice on a bookshelf, like a set of wacky encyclopedias.
NS: It’s hard to escape today’s politically-charged climate. As a writer/artist in the deep south, how are you absorbing our state of politics? Is it starting to seep into your work?
BD: Man, I’m so far in the rabbit hole that it’s almost impossible to have a healthy conversation with most people about politics. I’m 20 years in. I read a ton of books. Plus I know I’m kind of off the traditional grid of thinking, but this is my journey. So I don’t even bother – at least online where it’s ridiculously conservative and tribal on both sides. Like Church Ladies all ridiculing one another. Fuck off. What a waste. Quit being so square. Loosen up. Especially artists. Nobody’s going to you for political advice, dude. I try to look at everything as an exercise in abstract thought. It keeps me sane.
NS: The book CABLOG takes place in the early 2000s. So much has happened since then, it almost seems like a different era. Can you set the stage for us a little bit for the book? What were you going through personally then and looking back, what do you find significant about what was happening locally at that time?
BD: In 2003, I was broke, living in a motel, unemployed, and my band of ten years (Santeria) had just broken up. They all got jobs, married, or went back to school. I had no Plan B. But I still had the eye of the tiger, even though I was going nowhere. You’ve got to have a serious crazy bone in you to survive as a creative person down here. No question. Otherwise, the nerds and odds will just peck you to death. But I got lucky and found a job as a cabdriver. I try to turn everything into an art project – jobs, heartbreak, defeat, whatever – just to make it fun and ward off the humiliation of reality. It’s my survival mechanism. I knew I was going to write about this taxi stuff as soon as I walked in and met the boss and some of the other people that worked there. I was like, this is gold! But I also just needed a damn job, because I was broke. Sometimes I question the nonsensical trajectory of my own life, but I suspect that I was put here to turn this kind of shit into gold.
The coronavirus/COVID-19 pandemic has a friend in people.
People, that is, who do not wear a mask or social distance in public.
It’s anybody’s guess why some of our fellow humans refuse to mask-up. It could be political, it could be religious, it could be they are uninformed, or, misinformed.
Whatever the reason, as of Monday, July 6, 2020, Louisiana had 66,327 of its residents test positive for the virus. Of that number, 3,188 people have died.
While we wait on a vaccine, a miracle, or possibly an astroid to render this all moot, there is something the average person can do to help quell the spread and keep themselves, their loved ones, and, yes, even other people’s loved ones, above ground.
Wear a mask. Properly. And social distance, of course. But today, let’s take a closer look at the mask issue.
Enter the Acadiana Planning Commission (APC) and the Acadiana Open Channel (AOC). Downtown Development Association and One Acadiana are also on board.
The two public entities, APC and AOC, are working on a Public Service Announcement to encourage donning a mask, especially after the increase in infections in the state and Lafayette in particular.
“What was happening was there was a surge with young people,” said Monique Boulet, chief executive officer, LA Planning District 4. “The numbers are higher than they have been to date since the beginning of this thing.
“So there’s really a great concern that people don’t understand the simplicity of wearing a mask and actually trying stop this thing or slow it down,” she said.
Considering the target market of young people, APC re-upped some schoolyard snark, “Say it, don’t spray it,” that may ring a bell as a PSA slogan.
“When somebody says that to you, you don’t realize you’re spraying them,” said Boulet. “And that’s the whole point, right? to stop the spray out of your mouth from traveling to somebody else.”
Other potential encouraging words include Mask Up, Acadia! We wear because we care! Take masks to heart and do your part!
“And so message is really toward the young people,” Boulet said. That would be the 30 and under crowd.
The idea is to have people, like local musicians, football coaches and other residents record a video of themselves encouraging the wearing of masks.
Tips and other suggestions are in the graphic above. When finished, electronically submit your vid to https://www.aocinc.org/submit
“Chubby Carrier did a video. We’re going to go on-site with AOC to catch some of the football coaches at UL (University of Louisiana at Lafayette),” said Katrena King, Regional Planner II, Community Development Specialist. “And I was in touch with the Michots of Lost Bayou Ramblers and the Michot’s Melody Makers and they seem to be excited about the project and are hopefully going to send us something as well.
Ryan Cazares, optometrist at Scott Eye Care, musician, and who spearheaded Musical Instrument Library, sent in a video showing “how easy it is to wear a mask, and he put on a mask,” King said. “Just a personal spin on their own tagline but knowing what our campaign is about: masking up.
“We’re just trying to reach out to whoever might bite back,” she said. “The more lines out, hopefully, we’ll get a few responses. Basically, as many videos we get we can create PSAs.”
The business community needs to get involved, too.
“The businesses should really be standing up in front of everybody and saying, ‘We want to stay open. Please wear a mask,’” Boulet said. “Because if we close again, it’s going to be because things are out of control again and how do you stay open.”
AOC will do the tech work involved with the project. Most people involved will use their smart phone to video their message, but AOC will go to a location if that’s not an option.
Once in AOC’s hands, the plan is to get the 30-second finished product out on social media and even television.
“If they wanted to just slice the audio off, (AOC) could also make radio spots,” said Boulet.
The APC’s involvement in the PSA, in part, can be found in its mission statement: “The APC serves the public sector with planning and implementation of Community, Economic, and Transportation Development throughout the Acadiana region.”
In addition, the APC board is made up of seven Acadiana parish presidents, so when the pandemic hit, it was the go to body to do some outreach.
“We work very closely with all of the parishes,” said Boulet. That means things like transportation, broadband and watershed (which includes 16 parishes, FYI). “So, when this COVID thing started, we started the calls fairly early on. Maybe it was at some point in March.”
APC invited area mayors, the Louisiana’s Department of Health, the governor’s office, the offices of Louisiana’s senators to get involved in the discussions about the pandemic on conference calls.
“We’ve had Butch Browning (Louisiana State Fire Marshal) on to talk about when the capacity started becoming limited, what the implications of that was for different restaurants,” said Boulet. “A lot of these mayors, especially from the small towns, they’re the voice, right? but they really needed more information than we were getting from the press conferences.
“The calls have continued,” she said. “We didn’t anticipate they would last this long, but they have continued.”
A recent call, “was a very intense conversation about the reality of what’s happening,” Boulet said. “So, we had Tina Stefanski (Region 4 Office of Public Health Medical Director), on all of the calls.”
Depending on the evolving pandemic situation, different experts sit in on the calls and share advice.
“It’s just a support call,” said Boulet. “But it brings real information to them and allows them to ask questions in and around the information that’s been made public.”
Conversations include questions about the pandemic and related fallout, such as evictions, utility bills, etc.
As it happened, the idea for the PSA came from such a phone call.
“We are kind of the facilitator for regional issues, areas of concern that they share, which is a lot,” said Boulet. “Many of them have the same issues and concerns and questions in many different areas.
“That’s our function to pull that all together and really try to solve the problem together where we can,” she said.
“We’re not going to hold an open, public event in Girard Park as we have in the past,” said Barry Ancelet. “We’re not going to do that this year.”
Festivals Acadiens et Creoles board president, Barry Ancelet (left), sits in with Balfa Toujours at Girard Park. -DCross photo
And with that, Ancelet, president of the board of Festivals Acadiens et Creoles, confirmed the fears of many on a stormy Thursday, June 25, 2020, as the coronavirus/COVID-19 pandemic continued to rattle and spike in the Pelican State and across the country.
However, that’s not to say that the 40th celebration of all things Cajun and Creole, set for October 9-11 in Girard Park, is a wash. Call it Plan B.
“We’re exploring ways to have musical performances available virtually, and in very, very closed, limited context,” Ancelet said. “We want to support the musicians and we want to support the food vendors, so we’re exploring ways that we could do that while without putting large crowds together.”
Ancelet said he turned to folks at Festival International de Louisiane, who came up with a plan to salvage its annual April event online in just a matter of weeks.
“Festival International did a really good job of pioneering some ideas and they’re eager to work with us, to help us conceptualize things to do and we won’t vanish for a whole year,” said Ancelet.
Three locations have been scoped out for live streaming performances. In addition, though not confirmed, Ancelet is working with KRVS 88.7 FM, and others to stream the festival on the Internet, radio and other outlets.
“We’re also going to feature historic performances from our vast archives,” he said. Chris Segura, archivist at the Center for Louisiana Studies, is working on “identifying some memorable moments.”
Corey Ledet and His Zydeco Band. -DCross photo
So the show will go on, but in this case, the mantra is more of a mission.
“We are keenly mindful that the musicians and the restaurant people have been among the hardest hit by this economic shutdown,” said Ancelet. “So we’re desperate to do something for them, not to mention for all the other reasons we’d ordinarily do it. But especially in this case.
“We feel like we’re balancing social, cultural and economic concerns,” he said. Securing bands for the Plan B concept should not be an issue.
“Our festival is almost exclusively bands from driving distance,” Ancelet said. “We’re not going to be able to have as many bands, but we’re going to try and involve as many bands as we can, and, who are willing to.”
In a way, culling the line-up may not be as difficult as one may think, based on a suggestion from a bandleader, according to Ancelet.
“He said, ‘Hey, man. If y’all got to cut some, prioritize the bands that are composed of people for whom gigging is a primary source of income,’” said Ancelet. “The musicians’ community has been absolutely remarkable in the sense of cooperation and support and thinking realistically about this.
“It shows a healthy sense of solidarity.”
Another aspect of Plan B concerns the food vendors. Think the food truck concept.
“And that’s the way the Food Festival looked and worked already, except they were all bundled together,” Ancelet said. “If we figure out a way to spread them apart and associate them with the venues that we’re exploring to do it, something will work. We’re going to be able to help out.”
And then there’s the festival goers.
Jon Bertrand, Pine Leaf Boys. -DCross photo
“The other aspect of this, the festival’s fans, the attendees, we’ve been all weathering this difficult period as well and everybody deserves an opportunity to celebrate, if we can figure out a way to celebrate in a responsible way,” said Ancelet.
Simply cutting and running was an option, too. In theory, anyway.
“The easiest thing for us to have done would be to say, ‘Hey, you know what? Pull the plug. Never mind. We’re not going to lose any money. We’ll be ok. We’ll just survive it until next year,’” Ancelet said. “But we don’t want to do that.
“We feel responsible. We feel like we owe it to the musicians, the restaurants and the fans to see if we can figure something out,” he said.
And while a second wave of the pandemic is expected in the fall, many states, our’s included, haven’t quite dealt with the first wave and the one-time flattened-ish virus infection curve is expanding.
It seems that the premature rush to return to normal at the behest of pandering politicians and ill-informed business owners, coupled with careless people tricks – like not wearing a mask in public and ignoring social distancing guidelines – have contributed to the unfortunate and precarious situation.
So much so that on June 22, Louisiana Governor John Bell Edwards announced the state will not move to Phase III of reopening for 28 more days because of the climbing cases of infections and hospitalizations.
“It would be callous and irresponsible of us to proceed as though nothing was wrong,” said Ancelet. “Last thing I would want is for a couple of weeks after the festival, if we did it the normal way this year, is to see a report about a huge spike in cases.”
It was the second week of June and after three unintentional phone calls to Sam Broussard over two days, I figured it was a sign that I should phone the musician straight away.
Besides, based on conversations with Sam Broussard that I’ve had since the mid-1990s, a call to him usually adds a necessary touch of levity.
At this juncture in June 2020, we’re currently looking at the coronavirus/COVID-19 pandemic, the mass demonstrations across the country over the death of George Floyd, an African American, at the knee of a white police officer, and, not surprisingly, the rising numbers of virus infections.
Sam Broussard with David Greely, left, and Steve Riley at Steve Riley & the Mamou Playboys 25th Anniversary concert at Acadiana Center for the Arts in 2013. DCross photo
Nationally and politically, the feeling of real change mixes cautiously with the troubled air regarding minority relations and law enforcement and other U.S. race issues.
And if we zoom in, we can see that local demonstrations have been peaceful in Acadiana. If truth follows fiction, the statue of a confederate officer/slave owner in downtown Lafayette may soon come down from its pedestal.
Also at this time, since the late-March shutdown, the state is looking at going to Phase 3 in the overly optimistic drive to return to normal regarding the pandemic.
Already this month, Second Saturday ArtWalk returned, and it appears live music has returned to some venues, indoors/outdoors, in the region.
So when I called Broussard, we chatted a bit about the chaotic world that we’re all immersed in accompanied with the usual wit, sarcasm, frustration and maybe even hope that such calls have entailed over the years.
During the call, I learned Broussard is in the process of working on his and Barry Jean Ancelet’s follow-up to their “Broken Promised Land” recording some three years ago.
So we set time aside for an interview for Bayou Hack Press (www.bayouhackpress.com) two days hence.
In a nutshell, the 2017 recording is Broussard’s music put to Ancelet’s Cajun French poetry. It’s a concept that worked so well it received a Grammy nomination in the Best Regional Roots Album category.
The day arrived and before we got into the new recording, “Blacker Than the Devil’s Feet,” I had to ask Broussard if he’d play an indoor gig these days.
Nary a second passes.
“No,” said Broussard.
Not that I was surprised with his answer, but I asked him why, as the state stumbles through Phase II, while Lafayette plows straight into Phase V.
“The numbers are going up in the places where large gatherings are happening,” Broussard said. “I think Arizona has 7,000 new cases (‘question mark,’ he added). I just saw that. Indoors is too risky, especially for my age group.
“I think the chances of getting the virus are very, very slim, but that’s not good enough,” he said. “For me.”
“I don’t really want to do any gigs. Maybe at the beginning of August I’ll look around, but I don’t think anything’s going to change,” said Broussard. “I’m going to let the number of new cases decide when I work. And, again, that’s because of my age group.”
For the record, the multi-instrumentalist/singer songwriter is 68.
I told Broussard about local clubs offering live indoor music that coming weekend. And since then, I’ve seen social media posts of unmasked bands and unmasked dancers passing a good time over the weekend.
They’re some crazy souls in my book. Broussard has his own take on it.
“To me, there are two classes of people: People who don’t mind the risk of endangering the life of a healthcare worker; and those who do mind,” Broussard said. “It was just a couple of weeks ago that we thought they were so precious.
“And now, it’s kind of like, ‘Oh, well. I need my freedom,'” he said. “I just bear in mind how much we care about them.
Barry Ancelet, director, Festivals Acadiens et Creoles at Girard Park. DCross photo
“If I got sick, I’d have to think, ‘Oh, my God. Someone’s going to have to take care of me,'” Broussard continued. “I think that step right there is missing in the calculations of the ‘freedom-loving’ crowd.”
I mentioned that one of the reasons given for opening up cities and towns was that hospitals didn’t fill up like previously thought.
Broussard said Arizona apparently maxed out their ICU capabilities with the rise in new cases. I said it will be interesting to see what happens around here amid the rush to reopen.
“Nothing good,” Broussard dryly stated.
With that, we moved on to the original the reason I’d called.
Broussard said that all of the music and most of the poems (songs) for “Blacker Than the Devil’s Feet” were written specifically for the album. On the previous album, Broussard wrote the music to poetry already written by Ancelet, save one.
“The modus operandi is that I write music to his poetry. It doesn’t always fit, it seldom fits like a glove, so he and I get together and work on it,” Broussard said. “We worked on carving his poems to fit the music that I come up with.
“And we try to do that without soiling the integrity of the poetry,” he said. “It works really well. We have fun doing it. We’re not doing it in person now, but over the phone.”
“It’s a good process. It’s a good working relationship,” said Broussard. “We don’t refuse each other anything which definitely makes it easy. We make suggestions to each other about things.”
The collaboration works so well probably because the two men have known each other since they shared a first grade class as students in Lafayette.
“The process has never failed,” Broussard said.
Ancelet agrees.
“We have never had one moment of serious disagreement about anything,” said Ancelet. “It’s the easiest thing, ever. Now he’ll say, ‘I think you’re missing something here.’ Or, ‘We need to hit this harder or come up with a hook.’
“We do that kind of stuff,” he said. “We have this great relationship that is extremely productive and creative and respectful.
“When this process is working at its best, when it’s hitting on all eight cylinders, what it does is it uses the past to construct something new,” Ancelet said. “It’s not prisoner to the past. It’s using the past as a deep, rich resource.”
“Blacker Than the Devil’s Feet” is a line in a couple of the songs on the album.
Still, not all is dark on the upcoming release, Ancelet said with a caveat.
“It’s got some light moments, too,” Ancelet said. “But an album that’s going to be entitled ‘Blacker Than the Devil’s Feet’ – it’s going to have some blues, man.”
The songs “weren’t written to order,” said Broussard. “It’s just from his body of work, some of which is published, some has not been.”
Broussard said the duo is “pretty far” along in the process for the album.
“About 80 percent,” he said. “We have twice as many songs as we need and we have a lot of recording to do from other musicians.”
Under current pandemic circumstances, that process is down the road.
“I don’t know how to arrange it. I can’t afford to get sick from the virus, so I’m not really sure how we’re going to do that,” said Broussard. “Meanwhile, I’m playing everything, but that’s not the ideal.”
A long pause.
“Let’s just say that’s hardly the ideal,” he chuckled. “I did it the first time (on ‘Broken Promise Land’).”
Broussard said he plans to call on “our usual suspects” who are musicians from the annual Gospel Brunch at Ancelet’s house, such as Gina Forsyth and David Greely, in addition to some other local players.
“And we’ll need real drums and percussion and a few other singers,” Broussard said, adding that he and Ancelet will “be singing most of it.”
Anna Laura Edmiston was a guest vocalist first time around and featured on “Coeur casse.” “We will probably have some women singing on this one,” said Broussard. “Barry enjoys hearing certain poems of his sung by a woman.
“Sometimes a poignant poem can be more so if you change the gender – a point of view,” he said.
Broussard said he and Ancelet are still culling the herd of songs.
“We haven’t decided what songs will make the cut. They haven’t been in good enough shape to listen to,” Broussard said. “That will happen when I make the songs listenable enough. “
In other words: “I’m fleshing the songs out from the bare bones state that they were in,” he said.
“I would much prefer to work with him face to face. And also I need him to sing,” said Broussard. “It’s not as much fun this way. We have a great working relationship and I miss it.”
The upcoming release, like the previous one, isn’t what one would call Cajun music in the way, say, Steve Riley & the Mamou Playboys (of which Broussard is a member) may play.
“The way I look at it for myself, there’s two kinds of Cajun musicians,” said Broussard. “There’s the kind that pretty much plays Cajun music most of the time. And then there are musicians who are Cajun.
“We’re just doing what we want,” he said. “And, in that, we have a lot in common with the old guard of Cajun musicians. They certainly did whatever they wanted to do.”
Another pause and the pachyderm in the room raised its trunk regarding gigs since the pandemic was finally acknowledged in this country in March.
“We lost all of them,” said Broussard. That would include Strawberry Park Festival, Rhythm and Roots, the Lincoln Center, Balfa Camp and lots of other festivals and gigs. “These are gigs that other Louisiana bands lost as well.”
All local touring bands and those who gig locally were in the same boat and everyone took a hit.
“Music has always had a low profit margin, except for the old style record company,” Broussard said. “So, you worry about which venues will have to shut down forever, like some restaurants have had to do.”
Lots of bands sell their recordings at shows, but if there are no shows, well…
“So, you can’t sell records, and often money from that goes to transportation expenses,” said Broussard. “But nobody’s flying and there’s no place to fly to because there’s no gig when you get there.”
And even back in the pre-pandemic era, profit on recorded music sales were minimal.
“The only way to make money with recordings is to perform, or get them licensed within movies or commercials,” Broussard said. “You don’t make money selling records anymore unless you have sole ownership of them.”
All good things must end, and, so, too, all bad things. Right?
The day will dawn when social distancing and masks and ventilators follow the pandemic out of town and live music safely returns.
“I think it will be healthy when it cranks back up. I think it’ll be really good because audiences will have a renewed appreciation,” said Broussard. “But to me, the words, ‘crank back up,’ that means a vaccine. A vaccine is what it’s all about.”
Then again, there’s the bleach and ultraviolet light cure as proposed by a certain U.S. president.
“There’s that,” Broussard said. “Swallow an ultraviolet light bulb and then chase it with bleach.”
