Finding Soul in Southern Louisiana
Published July 8th, 2024
Photography by Jay Kana unless otherwise noted.
Lead image by Charlie Whinham.
Yet again, my Mother was right.
“You’ll thank me one day for this.”
From ages three until 10, I swore she was wrong about making me learn how to play the piano. What was so wrong about it? In my early years and finite, short-sighted wisdom, playing street hockey with my friends was a better use of my formative years, not learning theory, scales and Royal Conservatory of Music songs. When you’re that young, you get very little say in anything. And while I learned to like it in my teen years, 1980’s me didn’t understand the push for music.
Fast forward to May 2024 and 46 year old me was experiencing Louisiana with colleagues. Yes, the French Quarter was enthralling and lively, the plantations and small towns were poetic and the music was/is marvellous.
Our itinerary on a wildly warm and breezy Friday morning brought us to St. Landry Parish Visitors Centre in south central Louisiana.
The itinerary described our time there as “The St. Landry Parish Visitor Center located at I-49 Exit 23, was opened in 2011 as one of the first visitor centers in the state designed to be an attraction in itself. The Center is an award-winning example of how sustainable practices can and should be incorporated in the design and function of a building as well as a state certified welcome center.
Enjoy a live music demo and learn about the history of the parish, including Zydeco music.”
Photo credit Charlie Whinham
The two musicians who would be entertaining and educating us are Jeffery Broussard, a lifelong musician and leader of Jeffery Broussard and the Creole Cowboys and fellow musician, Ethan Moody, who’s thoroughly talented with a fantastic future ahead of him.
The entertainment side is simple; they brought French accordions and an acoustic guitar and played Zydeco music.
Photo credit Nancy Bordeleau
What exactly is Zydeco music? It’s upbeat, catchy, toe-tapping soulful music. It blends Creole music, blues, rock and roll, Cajun music, soul, R&B and it’s the stuff that can make you smile or weep. It’s music you feel first and hear second.
With music being thoroughly objective, to me it was what I’d want on a summer night playlist as I sway in my backyard hammock.
The education side was a delight as Broussard shared stories of his influences, early introduction to music, performing and how it’s a pillar of his life.
He shared (and performed) that the song “I am Coming Home” by Clifton Chenier is one that he seldom gets through all the way as it’s an emotionally charged song draped in memories for him.
The handful of songs they performed were flawless and most importantly, soulful, sincere and sonically sensational.
They fielded questions from my colleagues on history, heritage and personal experiences.
My questions were all music theory based. What key is the accordion in? Are most Zydeco songs in a certain key and why? Would a minor blues scale with a lifted seventh still work in a Zydeco piece with dominant major chords?
I was so focussed on their answers that I don’t recall who in the group mentioned that I play guitar but someone did.
Side note; I taught myself how to play guitar at 14 after seeing a Guns N’ Roses live in Hippodrome de Vincennes, Paris, France concert on MuchMusic.
Photo credit Charlie Whinham
Broussard gave me a quick look which visually asked “you good?”and my slight forward nod gave him his answer. Flustered, fidgety, nervous and excited, he invited me up to play a song with him and Moody using the latters guitar.
I’m a good-ish, competent guitarist and musician in that I know dozens of chords, inversions, versatile with rhythmic patterns and can follow the chord changes. And I humbly share that with them.
The two had a quick exchange and playing it safe, decided on a traditional song with the chords being F C Bb.
Then the smartphones came out from my travel companions. Vertical video, pictures, horizontal video, plus the main camera that recorded everything via the team at the Visitors Centre.
Circling back to my Mother’s push of piano on me 40+ years ago, I was able to follow Broussard’s and Moody’s melodies by ear on of the French accordions to find and keep my place as a rhythm guitarist on an aged acoustic guitar.
Photo credit Charlie Whinham
The experience happened in what felt like triple time so it was a bit of a blur but what I do remember that it was my first time playing for anyone aside from my cats in over two years and that aside from my foot tapping slightly off-beat in the beginning, it was a personal and professional highlight.
Always having an eye on the band leader, I did manage to smile a few times between my focus on not making a mistake and being sure to add just enough background feel to the song without overpowering it.
While the song lasted around three minutes, it felt like a blink when I strummed the final F chord to resolve the song.
The two seemed impressed that I followed along because it’s always a risk bringing up a stranger that another stranger says can play an instrument.
After sputtering out a mouthful of thank yous, gobs of gratitude and two heartfelt handshakes later, I went back to my seat as pictures and video filled our What’s App chat thread.
Sculpture on the grounds of the St. Landry Parrish Visitors Centre
Over the past few years, my professional travel side has seen some personal stamps in the proverbial passport but it was nothing like this. This was the first time I played guitar with professional and profound musicians while travelling and really, I don’t think anything will top this. Sure, there’ve been campfire nights and trading of stories with other musicians/artists on performing, recording and writing. This one felt different because it was different in every way.
I’ve played in various bands through over 100 performances, recorded two albums with The Noble Rogues, done session guitar work and have taught guitar, all of which stemmed from what my piano teacher, being my Mother, taught me.
Travel can be more than the journey and destination. It can be the unexpected. It can be capturing cultural lightning in a discoloured, scuffed glass bottle. In this case, travel was my time machine, sans Marty, Doc Brown and a DeLorean.
I’ll write more on my travels through Louisiana in the coming weeks. For a first piece, it feels right to lead with what impacted me most; a story of sharing what I’m fortunate enough to have thanks to my Mother, my musical side.
Thanks, Mom; you were right. Again.
To plan your own soulful experience in St. Landry Parrish, visit their website, cajuntravel.com
