Posted April 29, 2006
By Sean Nelson, MSN Music Editor

"Louisiana rain," sang local favorite Anders Osborne from the Acura Mainstage. "We don't care about no hurricane." It was a sentiment echoed by many of the performers on this, the first day of the first New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival since Hurricane Katrina wreaked havoc on the city and people of New Orleans.

On one hand, the incautious optimism of Osborne's 12-bar blues incantation was exactly the right note to strike at the beginning of the day, and the swelling crowd cheered wildly in appreciation. Still, it wasn't quite accurate. If there was a message to be gleaned from day one, it was not "we don't care," but rather, "life goes on."

And life does. Though New Orleans' population has been reduced by almost two-thirds in the past seven months, the Jazz Fest fairground swarmed with people eating, drinking and being merry. Music drifted on the welcome breeze from all directions -- zydeco to the left, gospel to the right, deep blues ahead and traditional New Orleans brass jazz everywhere.

Walking down the looping path, past the almost criminally delicious looking food booths maintained by some of the city's finest restaurants, past the craft stands boasting everything from tourist bead necklaces to $2,000 handmade accordions, and past the many stages and tents where musicians from all over the world have gathered to enliven the day with song, there was no mistaking the vitality of the city that Jazz Fest calls home.

Rose mint iced tea in hand, I took in Keb' Mo's heroic mainstage performance, which began as a solo set, then expanded to include a small band of local musicians who solidly filled out his lonesome sound. In a weekend filled with traditional sounds, it was exhilarating to hear a contemporary artist whose art, while firmly rooted in the blues, is also melodically and lyrically ambitious, and unmistakably aimed at the here and now.

Conversely, the soaring voice of Ms. Mary Griffin transported a rapt (and huge) audience at the Congo Square stage, with timeless gospel acrobatics. In her able hands, a song like the Staple Singers' classic "I'll Take You There" sounded like it could've been written during any year of the past two centuries.

And while there were memorable performances throughout the day by slightly lesser known artists (Andrew Hall's Society Brass Band, BeauSoleil, Sun Pie, St. Joseph the Worker and Yerba Buena all struck memorable chords), the day belonged to the two world famous mainstage headliners. First up was Bob Dylan, dressed in a loose fitting white cowboy shirt and hat, white pants, dark glasses and frequent smile. Backed by a rock-solid five piece R&B band, the greatest artist of the 20th century (well, that's my vote) and self-procliamed "poet laureate of rock and roll" burned through a 70 minute set of his '60s classics -- including "Maggie's Farm," "Highway 61Revisited," "Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues," "Positively 4th Street," "Don't Think Twice, It's All Right," "Like a Rolling Stone" and "All Along the Watchtower" -- as well as a handful of newer songs, like "High Water (For Charley Patton)" from his last album, "Love and Theft."

All the songs had been drastically re-arranged to fit Dylan's band's western boogie-ish sound -- part of the fun was trying to decipher the old favorites in their new musical clothes. And while the master's voice was a little on the thin and wheezy side, it was plain to see that the teeming audience was thrilled just to be in the same fairground with him.

Until introducing the band near the end of the set, Dylan never said a word between songs. He just planted himself behind his organ and led the band through the lively, often hilarious reworkings of his peerless body of songs. (You had to feel some sympathy for local band Cowboy Mouth, who drew the short straw and had to perform at the same time on another stage across the fairground.)

Next and last was Dr. John, the native son who, according to his introduction "has done more to bring New Orleans music to the world than any other performer at this festival." Bedecked in a garish royal blue suit and (almost) matching hat, the bearded, ponytailed Doctor resembled some kind of pimp -- albeit a kindly one -- as he ambled onto the stage to lead an all-local band through an hour-long funk workout that sidestepped his few hits in favor of songs (like the hysterical "Dog") that best embodied the music of his home town. Near the middle of his lively and impressive set -- New Orleans must be the only place in the world where Dylan opens for Dr. John -- came a reminder of Anders Osborne's words from early in the afternoon in a song from Dr. John's recent "Sippiana Hericane" album. "Sweet home New Orleans," he sang. "Home sweet home, flood is gone. Home sweet home, flood is gone."

Amid all the celebration, an unexpected burst of emotion swept through the audience and back onto the stage, where Dr. John, who is usually nothing if not irreverent and fun loving, was visibly moved. It was a perfect Jazz Fest moment.

Here's hoping there'll be more like it tomorrow.