Basin Street Band

History, experience have musicians on same page

Basin Street Band (l-r) Tommy Shreve, Sarah Gauthier, Tony Broussard, Dudley Fruge (behind Broussard), Jimmy Hebert and Ron Fruge / Ted Thibodeaux photo

by Dominick Cross

LAFAYETTE, La. — Tony Broussard don’t play.

Well, ok. He plays sax. And he sings.

But where he doesn’t play is with the bands he’s put together or been a part of over the years, which is to say chocked full of some good musicians.

Take Boogaloo, Force, Sound Advice and All-in-All, and, especially now, Basin Street Band.

Time was on Broussard’s side when he got the itch to return to the music scene with a new band after being away for several years.

He started scratching that itch in 2016.

“I wasn’t in a rush,” Broussard continued. “It was just going to be on my terms and my time table. And it was going to have to be the right guys.”

And that’s fine. However, an unexpected obstacle — “a huge revelation” — revealed itself at the outset.

“Everybody is playing in every band,” he said.

Tommy Shreve / DCross photo

Friend and musician, Daryl Fontenot, informed Broussard of a new reality: “There are no bands anymore that start up and you have dedicated players in that band,” Broussard said he was told.

In other words, it seems the Gig Economy had even encroached on the profession where it probably got its name in the first place.

“Everybody’s playing in five, six different bands,” said Broussard. “How do you put a band together with any kind of continuity if you always have different players sitting in with the band.

“It just boggles the mind.”

Broussard took note, figured in some ego and financial reasons and more or less concluded: “I don’t know, man. I think there’s both aspects to that,” he said. “And I think the other thing is that there’s just no music. No money. The money they’re paying is the same money I was making 30 years ago.

“That’s just the way that it is. That’s just the music business. There aren’t the venues that they used to have,” said Broussard, who may have touched on an inconvenient truth when he added: “And just the social attitude about drinking alcohol and driving and all of that, it’s changed the landscape of the music industry.”

Still, he persevered.

“So, it took me probably three years before I started to get people together to try and put a band together,” said Broussard. “I knew what I needed as far as the players went, what kind of players I needed for this band to make it work and give it the groove it needed.”

Talent and skill are one thing, but a key ingredient for Broussard was experience.

“And it’s not something you can teach anybody,” Broussard said. “You can’t teach somebody about a groove if they’ve never experienced a groove.

“A band that can get in a groove together is such, man, an emotional thing,” he said. “It’s just not something you can teach. It’s a chemistry. Not only is it a musician chemistry, but it’s a musical chemistry. And it has to happen naturally.”

So, while time was on Broussard’s side to put a band together, timing was a whole different thing.

“By the time I did find the right group of musicians to start playing,” he said. “It was the middle of COVID.”

No worries, by the time COVID cases came down and masks pulled off, Basin Street, after a change of personnel here and there, was ready to rock and roll — with a stellar line-up:

Tommy Shreve, guitar; Ron Fruge, guitar, Jimmy Hebert, bass; Dudley Fruge, drums; Sarah Gauthier, vocals; and Broussard, alto/tenor sax.

And all of the musicians can and do sing.

Ron Fruge and Jimmy Hebert / DCross photo

“What’s really cool is that I’ve never played in a band with the caliber of musicians that are in this band,” said Broussard. “It elevates everybody’s playing. You don’t have to think about what you’re doing and you can just concentrate on making the music.

“And that’s where we are with this thing, man. It just happens naturally,” he said. “It’s scary-good sometimes. It really is.”

It doesn’t hurt that musicians in the band have a history together, some going back decades.

Tommy Shreve and Dudley Fruge were roadmates when they toured with Zachary (Richard),” said Broussard. “Jimmy (Hebert) played with Zachary for a while.

“And Dudley’s brother, Ron, is a freakin’ monster on his own. Great guitar player, great singer,” he said.

And Hebert and Broussard also go way back to Boogaloo. Hebert has performed and/or recorded with Zachary Richard, Hunter Hayes, Richard Lebouef, and Kevin Naquin.

A result of such high caliber musicians who know each other, “You don’t have to teach anything,” said Broussard. “You don’t have to say anything because it’s happening.”

It’s what folks have come to expect after witnessing the talent and skill of Shreve, the Fruges and Hebert over the years; they hardly need an introduction.

An unknown quantity, however, was Gauthier.

“I didn’t know this girl from Adam. She happened to be sitting in with Major Handy,” said Broussard. “Somebody had taken a video and that’s how I first became exposed to Sarah.

“And man let me tell you, Sarah just brings just a whole other thing — just her style and versatility — man, I can’t say enough about Sarah and her stage presence and how she presents a song,” he said.

Ted Thibodeaux, a local musician who returned to the area not too long ago, concurs. (Editor’s note: I couldn’t make a recent Basin Street gig, so Ted took some of the photos and talked about the band for this story when they played at The Ruins.)

“I never saw Sarah (Gauthier) sing before,” said Thibodeaux. “I don’t know where she came from — Saturn, maybe? Seems like she’s from another planet she’s so good.”

Thibodeaux explained: “Anybody who can sing Janis Joplin and then jump like that with no hesitation to sing ‘At Last’ (Etta James) is really good.””

Gauthier teaches theater (her first love) in the Louisiana Public School Systems Gifted Program and she runs Theatre Acadie.

“I learned I could sing later on in life and so this gives me the opportunity to fulfill my performance desires without having to be in a six-week long rehearsal for a play,” Gauthier said. “So I’m still able to get on stage and do what I love doing.”

She got her late start singing with New Iberia’s Blue-Eyed Doll from 2011-2015. These days, Gauthier also sings with the band Ask for Ashley.

Then Basin Street came calling.

“When they asked to sing with them, I was like, ‘Yes.’ It was not even a question,” said Gauthier. “I like singing rock and roll. And I think there’s more of a performance aspect there.

Sarah Gauthier and Tony Broussard / Ted Thibodeaux photo

“But with Basin Street, I really get to hone in on my vocal craft. They are stellar musicians with a ridiculous amount of experience. I’m learning a lot as a musician with those guys.”

Gauthier said there’s a lot to appreciate being a member of Basin Street.

“I love it that I’m not the only singer in the band,” said Gauthier. “Every single person in the band sings and four of us sing lead, so I get to sing a lot of backup and I just get to dance and play the tambourine.

“I feel like everybody is singing from their soul, so that’s great because that’s the only way I know how to sing,” she said. “Everybody puts their all into it.”

And like Broussard, Gauthier can feel the intangible vibe within the band.

“It’s kind of magical. We really have a good mesh on stage,” she said. “There’s a really great connection and it’s hard to find that where everyone feels really comfortable with one another.

“You can feel when somebody’s kind of changing the groove or adding something to it and we all just go along with it,” said Gauthier. “It’s great.

“They know music backwards and forwards, so even if we skirt around and do a little something, we all know how to get back to where we were.”

Broussard said having pair of stellar guitar players like Shreve and Fruge goes a long way with a band.

“When they can work together, it’s very rhythmic. Percussive might even be a way to put it as far as how that contributes to the groove just by the nature of having two guitar players,” Broussard said. “There’s a percussiveness in the sense in how a guy plays guitar and rhythm guitar and letting songs breathe.

“You don’t have to have music at every second of the song,” he said. “In my opinion, the tightness of a band is not how they manage all the notes, but how they manage the quiet time — those spaces — how precise they are with the dead spots of a song.”

Basin Street covers plenty of genres, from rock and roll, R&B, to local music from Wayne Toups, Zachary Richard, and Marc Broussard.

“It’s kind of magical. We really have a good mesh on stage.”

Sarah Gauthier

“You have to do your standard stuff. You got to do like, ‘I Got Loaded,’ and some of the swamp pop things just because of South Louisiana,” said Broussard. “But we mix it up with some Neville Brothers. We do ‘Pockaway.’ Some bands just do that during Mardi Gras. Man, that’s a great song.”

You can also expect to hear some Robert Palmer, Janis Joplin, The Band, Aretha Franklin, Delbert McClinton, Tina Turner, Wilson Pickett and other crowd favorites.

“We can present a song and give it our own flair and flavor, but also be precise and consistent of what it is we’re playing,” he said. “It’s a mixture of stuff, but it’s been our goal to do great music that not many bands, if any bands, are doing.”

Thibodeaux said Basin Street left an impression.

“Phenomenal, man. The level of talent in this group and the camaraderie and the professionalism…” Thibodeaux trailed off. “The sound was good. It wasn’t too loud. It was mixed. He had a variety of strong vocalists.

“I don’t even dance, but for some reason this night, I was dancing,” he said.

Rare air, rare breed: Lifelong friend remembers Bruce MacDonald, guitarist extraordinaire, and, quite the character

Hard Heads, circa 2002, from left, Ben Shank, Danny Kimball, Gary Newman, Bruce MacDonald, Gary Graeff. (the late) Ken Tiger/photo

by DOMINICK CROSS

LAFAYETTE, LA. — Another impactful musician will no longer walk among us.

Stellar guitarist, Bruce MacDonald, 74, died Sunday morning (April 27, 2022) after a long illness basically in the form of congestive heart failure.

MacDonald played with Zachary Richard, David Egan, The Bad Roads, Rufus Jagneaux, Coteau, Little Queenie, George Porter, Exuma, Hard Heads, The Song Dogs, Native Sons, King Creole, Mamou, BeauSoleil, Cat Head Biscuit Boys and others.

There won’t be a funeral, so you’ll not find his body in a casket or his ashes in an urn because MacDonald donated his body to science.

But what you will find is a grand event, organized by guitarist Tommy Shreve, set for 7 p.m., April 20, 2022, entitled “Lafayette Musicians Unite for a Brother, A Memorial Benefit for Bruce MacDonald,” at Warehouse 535, 535 Garfield St., Lafayette.

Music will be provided by Red Beans and Rice Revue, The Bucks, Has Beans with special guests Sonny Landreth, Zachary Richard, Roddie Romero and Alex MacDonald, Bruce’s son.

“This guy has contributed so much musically,” said Danny Kimball, drummer/percussionist and lifelong friend of MacDonald. “To think about Lafayette music if he hadn’t been here, there’d probably no Rufus, no Coteau, not mention all of the other bands.

“He moved the music itself forward in this area,” he said. “I mean, Coteau changed Cajun music.”

Kimball chuckled when he recalled MacDonald’s take on Cajun music.

“Bruce said, ‘It’s just folk music that’s there to be jacked-around with.’”

MacDonald also had an impact on the New Orleans music scene “with George Porter, the Song Dogs — I mean, he was working in rare air over there — Weasel was respected as a player,” said Kimball.

‘Heart poured in every note’

‘He played with such a fierceness and tons of soul’

Kimball said MacDonald, whose day job was a house painter, hadn’t worked in some time because of poor health.

That said, in addition to the April celebration of MacDonald’s life, an online fundraiser at GoFundMe was established by Kimball and Rhonda Egan under the medical, illness and healing category before he died.

Getting MacDonald on board took a some coaxing, according to Kimball.

“I knew he was going to give me every excuse in the world not to do it,” said Kimball. “That’s how he is. I said, ‘Bruce, this is something we need to do for you and we need to do for us.

“‘We’re going to have to let you go and it is not going to be easy for a lot of people in this town. And that’s when he looked at me and said, ‘Okay. I just want you to take care of Julie and take care of my boy. Make sure they’re ok.’

‘He moved the music itself forward in this area. ‘I mean, Coteau changed Cajun music.’

Danny Kimball

“And I said that’s what this money is going to be for,” said Kimball. “We’re going to make sure that she’s okay as she makes the transition to the next phase of her life.”

Julie is Julie Marshall. She and MacDonald were longtime friends before their friendship took a romantic turn and they ended up sharing a home for 20 years.

Although MacDonald and Marshall had disability incomes, “half of that left yesterday,” Kimball said Monday.

a/k/a Weasel

Going back to his teen days, MacDonald was tagged with the nickname Weasel.

“Bruce, what a character. He’s like a caricature or something, you know. It’s like you can’t create this guy. And everybody knows him in Lake Charles as Weasel — from his character.”

Bruce MacDonald Robin May/photo

MacDonald’s mother “got on me about it,” Kimball remembered. “She goes, ‘Danny. I didn’t named Bruce ‘Weasel,’ I named him Bruce.’ And I go, “‘Ok, Mrs. Weasel.’ And she put her head in her hands. She was a doll. Oh, God. Mary Ellen was so special.”

It was about a decade or more ago when MacDonald preferred his given name to his nickname.

“He was kind of tired of it,” said Kimball.

Homeboys

Kimball and MacDonald go back to their days at LaGrange High School in Lake Charles. That, coupled with the fact that they would play in bands together for nearly as long, gives the drummer keen insight into the guitar player.

“Off and on forever. Yeah, he’s family,” said Kimball. “He’s like a brother to me.”

Brotherly love, however, wasn’t in the cards at their first encounter as high school sophomores. An early version of The Bad Roads was playing a house when MacDonald and two others arrived.

“I didn’t know these people,” said Kimball, watching it all unfold behind the drum kit. “They were drunk on their ass.”

MacDonald repeatedly shouted out a request to the band.

“‘Hey, mother fuckers, play Beach Boys,’” Kimball recollected. “He wanted to hear Beach Boy songs and he was obnoxious.”

The band insisted that the rowdy trio leave the party and they left.

Three weeks later at a Lake Charles hangout, the two met again.

“Somehow, I ran into Weasel again. I’d lost my ride and I was stranded there,” said Kimball. “Bruce gave me a ride home. He was in his dad’s car. Somehow we, I forget the exact deal, but the night he gave me a ride home, he scared me to fucking death.

“He was drunk on his ass. He was going down Enterprise Boulevard about 60 mph, running stop signs. It was raining,” he continued. “And when I finally got him to my parent’s house, which was on the way to his house, I got out, closed the door and he peels out.

“I swear to God, I fell on my knees in the ditch and thanked God I’m alive,” said Kimball. “And I never wanted to see that mother fucker again.

“Of course, the next week, I was over at his house,” laughed Kimball. “I fell in love with his mother. And we just started hanging out together with his little crew.”

Guitar curious

MacDonald was learning to play guitar at the time.

“He had this thing called the Color Way,” Kimball said, where the novice picker put little color-coded stick-ems on their fingers that coincide with the chords in the book.

Briant Smith and Terry Green, two guitarists in The Bad Roads, also started hanging around and they told MacDonald to ditch that method “and started showing him how to play,” said Kimball. “He was just starting to pick it up.”

Megan Barra/poster

MacDonald then became a roadie for The Bad Roads.

“And he was the worst roadie in the world,” Kimball said. “We paid him $25 a night to move the equipment. So what he would do is find some yo-yo that knew a little bit about the equipment and pay him $10 and he’d take the $15 and go buy beer. But he could solder really well.

“And if I demonstrate how he soldered, it was a physical thing how his elbows were out when he soldered, you’ll die laughing,” he said. “It was just amazing. He was such a character. We were all characters, bopping around playing music.”

Eventually, Green left the band and Smith took over lead and MacDonald played rhythm.

“He’d been learning how to play the whole time,” said Kimball. “And wanted to learn how to play so he could play Beach Boy songs.”

San Francisco

Kimball was the first of his friends to head out to San Francisco in 1968 and a few months later, MacDonald and Benny Graeff showed up, “because I was out there and said, ‘Man, y’all gotta come out here and check this out.’”

MacDonald was taken by Santana, who hadn’t even released an album yet.

“And then he saw the (Grateful) Dead. He, like, picked up the vibe, the whole thing,” said Kimball, who told his friend to wait until he sees the Sons of Champlin, “one of the top bands in San Francisco. They could give a shit about, ‘making it.’”

Kimball recalled an interview with Jerry Garcia (Grateful Dead) in which the musician was asked who he thought was the best guitarist in the Bay Area and he replied, Terry Haggerty, a guitar player with Sons of Champlin.

“He was a monster,” said Kimball.

MacDonald, at the time, “wasn’t the player we have now. Bruce was fumbling around, but he synthesized those guys,” Kimball said. “That’s where he went and started working from and all that later on came out through him.”

MacDonald, Breaux & Zach

Kimball called “Migration,” Zachary Richard’s “big breakthrough album” in Canada in 1978. MacDonald and Dana Breaux were on guitars.

“It was basically Coteau and Zachary’s songs, as far as I’m concerned,” said Kimball. “Tells you Zachary’s really smart. ‘Migration’ broke him in Canada big time.”

The two guitarists had a unique working relationship and style.

“(MacDonald and Breaux) had all of these dual harmony things going on that were really amazing. Nobody was doing anything like that, having the patience to work all that kind of stuff out and push it the way they did rhythmically,” said Kimball.

Kimball explained:

“Dana and Bruce each had a guitar. A lot of the time they played on different sides of the stage. Bruce would run his extension speaker over to Dana’s amp, so it was sitting right there and Dana’s extension speaker was over on Bruce’s side.

“So they were like immersed in those two guitars. It was weird, it was fascinating,” he said.

In other words, the guitarists could hear what the other was playing and respond at the same time, merging the two guitars into one sound.

“The way they were so in tuned to each other they could pull off those ongoing rides together, harmonic rides and stuff,” said Kimball. “It wasn’t like everybody was trying to shred. It wasn’t about that. It was all these beautiful, melodic things and the rhythm was Cajun rhythms; shuffles and two-steps and everything.”

Reference point

Kimball said MacDonald’s performance at the Medicine Show 2 fundraiser for The Dr. Tommy Comeaux Endowed Chair in Traditional Music at UL Lafayette (captured on the Medicine Show 2 CD, recorded live at Grant Street Dancehall), is a classic example of his guitar skills.

Da Beans, with Kimball on drums, played that night.

“We didn’t have (Tommy) Shreve, he couldn’t make it and (Steve) LeCroix couldn’t make it, he was in Cape Cod,” said Kimball of the line-up that did consist of Gary Newman, bass; Sam Broussard and MacDonald on guitars, Pat Breaux, sax/accordion, Tommy Withrow, piano, and Mike Hanisee, guitars/vocals.

“I think we rehearsed for an hour,” said Kimball. “Our contribution on that CD is a medley of two songs, ‘We Been Runnin’ and ‘The Cuckoo’.

“We went through the set and everything’s going good and then we get into this thing and those two mother fuckers erupted. They just took the fuck over,” Kimball said. “There’s just four guitar rides, two on ‘Runnin’ and two on ‘Cuckoo.’ They both played absolutely brilliantly.
“Bruce had the last run and he ripped the roof off of the fuckin’ place. The roar at the end of that, when we stopped that song, the roar that came off the crowd — they were stunned,” he said. “We were stunned.”

“I listen to it periodically and I still get chills from what he did, and the whole band. But what Bruce did.” A quick pause, and then he continued. “Sam played Sam to the max. And they kind of pushed each other a little bit, you know? And it’s magic. Pure fuckin’ magic.

“So,” Kimball added. “If you want a reference point on Bruce MacDonald’s playing, go to that and listen to the breadth of the chops that that man had.”

Celebration

No different than a New Orleans Jazz Funeral, the celebration of MacDonald, April 20th at the Warehouse, will be just that: a rollicking remembrance of a friend, father and helluva guitar player.

“I don’t see it as mourning a death so much as celebrating a life,” said Kimball. “And what better way to celebrate a musician’s life than to just play some music.”

Kimball expects “a pretty seamless deal. We’re making a CD of recordings that Bruce played on, a lot of songs that he played and sang his songs,” he said. “So we’ll have that swirling around between bands.

“It’s a night of reminiscing, it’s a night of memories and the tribe getting together again like the Medicine Shows where you had to be there because you wanted to see everybody,” he said.

“We’ll just celebrate his life and hopefully people will keep him in their hearts and their minds,” Kimball said. “And hopefully, with all that music he created — there’s a lot of it out there — people will note that this guy was a great guy and a great player.”