Southern Bookman

New MOMA expansion continues museum's real estate maneuvers, as Times critic Michael Kimmelman details

The Museum of Modern Art's relentless expansion since moving to its permanent home on West 53rd Street in 1939 has transformed its Midtown Manhattan neighborhood.

In an early review of the MOMA's latest renovation, opening Oct. 21, ace New York Times architecture critic Michael Kimmelman shows how the museum turned over the years into one of New York City's insatiable real estate brokers.

The $450 million project adds 47,000 feet of exhibition space, allowing MOMA to display more of its permanent collection. It also adds a performance stage, a rooftop restaurant and a dramatic canopy. On the negative side, the MOMA's sculpture garden will be less accessible.

One of MOMA's most touted additions is a gallery for changing exhibits, visible from the street and free to visitors. Alas, MOMA had to tear down the American Museum of Folk Art to build the new space.

The MOMA expansion continues major museums' race to grow bigger and attract more visitors. The MOMA turns ever more corporate as its masterpieces speak against capitalism's ravages. Co-founded by Abby Aldrich Rockefeller, John D. Rockefeller Jr.'s wife, the museum has navigated between those poles since its beginning.

Kimmelman's review implies that the project by Diller Scofido +Refro, in collaboration with Gensler, undoes mistakes from Yoshio Taniguchi's widely criticized 2004 expansion. Taniguchi's work led to crowded hallways and escalators as the museum's visitors surpassed 3 million a year, as Kimmelman details. The new MOMA will ease traffic flow. Earlier expansions had been done by Philip Johnson and Cesar Pelli.

When the MOMA moved to West 53rd Street in 1939, the area consisted of low-rise rowhouses, Kimmelman says. The MOMA's six-story home of white marble, clad in a new kind of insulated glass called Thermolux, according to the MOMA's web site, transformed the street like the landing of a spaceship, as Kimmelman said.

Now, skyscrapers in that part of Midtown soar toward the sky, blotting out the sun. Owned by foreign oligarchs, many of the outlandish high-rises remain vacant, killing the area's small businesses.

Conceived as a palace of modern art, the MOMA with its real estate hunger has enervated the area's vitality. Monstrosities rising to an inhuman scale,  empty storefronts and a corporate uniformity have replaced interesting shops and middle-class homes.

Art lovers will flock to the MOMA, which expects an increase to 3.5 million annual visitors. The main interest for many will still be taking selfies before Van Gogh's "Starry Night," as Kimmelman notes.

 

 

 

 

Farewell, Ginger Baker

The rock supergroup Cream's universal popularity is unimaginable today.

Ginger Baker, the group's pyrotechnic drummer, died Sunday at age 80 in London. Baker, bassist Jack Bruce and guitarist Eric Clapton reached a new level of rock success with Cream, drawing huge crowds with their turbocharged music and selling millions of records. Their once innovative power rock today seems as old-fashioned as the big band era did in the 1960s. Fractured audiences and collapsing album sales now thwart widespread appeal.

Baker, who saw himself as a jazz drummer, hated Cream's ear-breaking sound as Clapton and Bruce accumulated more and more amps for stadium performances. While Baker looked down at rock music, he was acclaimed as one of rock's greatest drummers, fusing jazz and blues rhythms.

Cream's luminous career ended quickly, wrecked by animosity between Bruce, who died in 2014, and Baker, as his New York Times obituary recounted. Baker and Clapton joined Steve Winwood to form Blind Faith, which also flashed briefly.

Known for his unpleasant personality, Baker played with several more bands over the years, and reunited with Bruce and Clapton in 2003.

Several rock stars died early. Baker, who battled heroin addiction, survived the rock era's excesses. Two other aging rockers, Mick Jagger and Paul McCartney hailed Baker as a consummate musician. Clapton continues to perform.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Farewell, Leigh Harris, "Li'l Queenie"

Tipitina's opened just before I left Louisiana as a young man.

I saw Gatemouth Brown, Professor Longhair and Asleep at the Wheel at the club at the corner of Napoleon Avenue and Tchoupitoulas Street in New Orleans' warehouse district. No act matched the excitement of Lil' Queenie and the Pecolators.

Leigh Harris, the diminutive woman with a big, raucous, New Orleans voice, died Saturday at age 65 from breast cancer. Performing as Li'l Queenie with her high-octane band, she blasted out soul, funk, rhythm and blues, and jazz, the city's musical gumbo. Dying her hair orange and pink, she created a stage persona as New Orleans-marinated as Dr. John's.

Leaving New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina, Harris found a serene life in rural North Carolina with her husband, musician Rick Ledbetter. She kept making music, recently releasing the album "Purple Heart." In February, she was inducted into the Louisiana Music Hall of Fame.

Her New Orleans anthem, "My Darling New Orleans," was one of the songs featured on the soundtrack of "Treme," David Simon's HBO show about the corruption and resilience that surrounded the city's recovery from Katrina's devastating flooding.

That recognition was welcome; Li'l Queenie and the Percolators' sound was too New Orleans-flavored to gain widespread national success.

She was magical in her hometown, commanding the stage's light, true New Orleans royalty.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Museums, music venues mark the places where Carter Family, Jimmie Rodgers stamped country music

A.P., Sara and Maybelle Carter traveled in a primitive automobile over treacherous mountain roads to reach a recording session in Bristol, Tenn., in August 1927.

The group later called "The Carter Family" overcame flat tires and mechanical problems to make it to Bristol from their rural home in southwest Virginia's Appalachian Mountains. The young Maybelle, Sara's cousin and A.P.'s sister-in law, was eight months pregnant. Later, the shy young mountain girl would gain fame as "Mother Maybelle," the queen of country music.

Nowadays, the trip is much easier, as recounted in an article in Sunday's New York Times Travel section. Bristol, and the neighboring  East Tennessee tri-city towns of Johnson City and Kingsport, have built museums, music venues and tourist attractions to mark the 1927 sessions, known as "the big bang of country music," although country hits had been recorded previously in Atlanta and elsewhere.

The birth of country music route extends into Bristol, Va., just across the state line from its Tennessee twin city, and farther into the Virginia Mountains, where the "Carter Fold" presents musical performances at the Carter home.  Now crowds flock to the isolated mountain valleys where the music was born.

RCA Victor scout Ralph Peer, who had captured Fiddlin' John Carson in Atlanta four years before, recorded several mountain artists during the 1927 Bristol sessions. But the Carter Family and Jimmie Rodgers made the foundational recordings of country music, setting a course for popular song as well.

Rodgers,  formerly a railroad brakeman in Mississsippi, ventured beyond the primitive string-based sound with the bluesy, jazzy "T for Texas," or "Blue Yodel." The record about love gone wrong and rambling across the country reflected an urban sensibility that would make Rodgers the first big crssover country star.

Sometimes discounted as a musician in comparison with black blues pioneers like Robert Johnson and Blind Lemon Jefferson, Rodgers in his brief career cut short by tuberculosis towers over country and popular music.

He's not a guitar virtuoso like Johnson, but his chord progressions influenced later bluegrass and country guitarists. While his yodels now sound old-fashioned, he wrote memorable lyrics that tell stories of cinematic documentary authenticity. He also was a jazz pioneer, recording with Louis Armstrong and other black musicians, and expressing the dislocations of American urbanization in songs like "Miss the Mississippi and You." The theme of country people finding alienation after moving to the city would be common in country music, and American literature.

But to me the Carter Family recordings are truly miraculous, unworldly music that brings something new into the world. AP Carter, who had gatheerd most of the group's songs at rural gatherings, often giving himself songwriting credit, was a conventional singer at best. His braying, nearly off-key voice, overwhelm some of the songs. But his strong voice chimes with Sara's on the memorable "Will You Miss Me When I'm Gone."

But his wife, Sara, was a rare, mesmerizing talent. Her mountain pronunciations, otherworldly high notes, and haunting vocal shadings, display the virtuosity of a natural genius. She was a uncommon singer who understood her gift without need of instruction. A groundbreaking artist, she brought to American music a wildness, a sense of adventure, an experimental newness. Like Bessie Smith and Billie Holiday, she changed the course of American music.

And she was not the only native genius on the recordings. Maybelle Carter's guitar playing, partially learned from a black man named Lesley Riddle, set the templet for all future guitar gods. Maybelle's combination of rhythm and lead playing still echoes in Nashville recordings. She's up there with Louis Armstrong and Johnson as early 20th century musical innovators.

Peer himself had misgivings when the bedraggled Carters rolled in from the Virginia hollers.

"They wander in," Peer told Lillian Borgeson during a series of interviews in 1959. "He's dressed in overalls and the women are country women from way back there. They looked like hillbillies. But as soon as I heard Sara's voice, that was it. I knew it was going to be wonderful."^[

 

Film Comment magazine a beacon of hope for print

I discovered "Film Comment" magazine the other day.

Much to my surprise, I found that the magazine published by the Film at Lincoln Center series has been coming out since 1962. Since I am a lifetime magazine junkie, I thought I would have discovered "Film Comment" long ago.

The magazine gives hip/academic analysis of films ranging from American blockbusters to obscure foreign productions. Writers such as  The New York Times film critic Manohla Dargis and staffers J. Hoberman, Dave Kerhr, Michael Sragow and Amy Taubin give an auteur's perspective, while remaining grounded.

Also impressive is the magazine's historical outlook. I appreciated a retrospective on the late Doris Day and a feature on United Artists' 100th anniversary.

Another strong piece is Taubin's interview with director Jim Jarmusch about his recent zombie black comedy "The Dead Don't Die." The film received negative reviews, but Jarmusch's thoughts about his scriptwriting made me want to see it.

The film's cast exudes acting brilliance: Bill Murray, Adam Driver, Chloe Sevigny, Tom Waits, Danny Glover, Steve Buscemi, Tilda Swinton. There's even an appearance by Iggy Pop.

I noticed Film Comment because it had a cover story on Quentin Tarantino's "Once Upon a Time....in Hollywood." 

Although I've never liked Tarantino's films all that much, "Once Upon a Time....in Hollywood" has stirred my interest. I suppose it's because I loved the violent TV and movie Westerns the film references, and have long been fascinated by the 1960s conflict between the old and new Hollywood that the film registers. I've also always loved book, movies and TV shows about the glitzy, noirish Los Angeles, whether in the 1930s or 1960s.

Film Comment Editor-in-Chief Nicholas Rapold gives a good wrap-up of Tarantino's look back at Los Angeles in 1969, but I particularly liked Howard Hampton's sidebar on TV's influence on the production.

As Hampton points out, a group of marginal actors in 1960s Hollywood, including Bruce Dern, Jack Nicholson, James Coburn and Warren Oates, eventually gained fame in the edgy, revolutionary New Hollywood films. Hampton finds an obscure model for Leonardo DiCaprio's Rick Dalton: Ty Hardin, who starred in a TV series called Bronco.

An imaginative magazine produced for a selective audience like Film Comment offer sthe best hope for print's future. While refined general interest magazines like Harper's, the New Yorker, the Atlantic and National Geographic battle on, general interest magazines sink.

Film Comment has a strong Internet presence, but its crisp writing and editing, inviting layouts and vivid photography make a statement for print.

Will Jimmy Buffett demolish Fiddlin' John Carson?

Jimmy Buffett's company wants to build a monstrous Margaritaville development in downtown Atlanta, destroying the building where Fiddlin' John Carson in 1923 recorded the first national country hit.

The Margaritaville plan sounds like the kind of high-concept debacle that has plagued the city for years. Remember Planet Hollywood and the ESPN Zone? These urban pleasure palaces sizzle for a few years, then fizzle out, leaving a hole in the urban fabric.

Buffett's development across the street from Centennial Olympic Park would bring the destruction of a small building at 152 Nassau Street where Carson recorded "That Little Old Log Cabin in the Lane" in 1923, along with "The Old Hen Cackled and the Rooster's Going to Crow."

Famed New York talent scout Ralph Peer recorded country singer and fiddler Carson and several local black performers at the building for Okeh Records. Despite Carson's wavering voice and the recording's scratchiness, "The Little Old Log Cabin" caught fire. The song's success led to a flourishing Atlanta recording industry, which eventually faded away as country music found a permanent home in Nashville.

Unless architect and downtown resident Kyle Kessler can succeed with a last-ditch effort to save the 152 Nassau building, the original site of Atlanta's recording industry will disappear, according to an excellent article Tuesday by the AJC's Jeremy Turley. Despite Kessler's online petition that has received 8,000 signatures, the Buffett company is preparing for the imminent demolition of the 152 Nassau building, Turley reported.

A deal with former Mayor Kasim Reed led to the Margaritaville developers receiving building permits for a 21-story Wyndham Hotel and time-share condos above an amusement park, according to the article. The city planning department sought to stop the project, but the developers threatened to sue. Reed then told the company he would support the plan if the luxury hotel were included, the newspaper reported.

Designed to draw aging affluent Parrotheads, the development will be near the giant downtown Ferris wheel, State Farm Arena, Mercedes-Benz Stadium, the College Football Hall of Fame, the World of Coca-Cola and the Civil Rights Museum.

Despite these attractions, someone would have to be pretty wasted in Margaritaville to buy a time-share in downtown Atlanta. The Buffet company's plan contains all the signs of those Atlanta developments that have crashed in the past.

Ace AJC columnist Bill Torpy sounded the alarm in May about the threat to the Nassau Street building. The preservationists don't want to prevent Buffett fans from having their fun. They only ask that the Margaritaville plan incorporate the building in some way.

But the developers say they need to destroy the building to install a garbage facility, or a restaurant "grease trap," according to the AJC.

The preservationists point out the irony of a Buffett enterprise removing a major landmark of Atlanta's music history. Buffett began his career performing in small Atlanta clubs, according to Torpy and others.

The building on Nassau street isn't that distinctive, and has housed many businesses over the years, including a "Gone With the Wind Museum."

The Buffet corporation could easily find a way to preserve the place, perhaps as a museum of Atlanta's musical history, including Buffett's career.

The country pioneer Carson has a darker tie to Atlanta's history. He stirred anti-Semitic fervor by performing on the street during the Leo Frank murder trial in 1913. Frank, whose innocence has been established by historians, was convicted for the slaying of Mary Phagan and subsequently lynched by a mob in Cobb County.

Along with its place in music history, the 152 Nassau Building should be preserved as one of the last downtown sites dating back to that turbulent era of Atlanta's past.

 

 

 

 

 

Musician Doug Kershaw's "The Ragin' Cajun" a story of redemption

Louisiana performer Doug Kershaw's "The Ragin' Cajun" finds joy and redemption in a rough life of setbacks and self-destruction.

To be published in October by Mercer University Press, "The Ragin' Cajun" tells the common musician's story of numbing performances, drug addiction, poor life choices and unscrupulous managers and record producers.

The book stands apart from other rock memoirs in the literary quality of its revelations about Cajun culture.

Along with the Cajuns' well-noted joy, humor and musical talent, the book discloses the culture's violence, depression and propensity for addiction.

Sadly, it also details how cultural repression and existence on the edges of American life led to deep feelings of inferiority. In recent years, Cajun music, literature and cuisine have found long-overdue recognition.

Written with the novelist Cathie Pelletier, the book brings light to a little known and vanished way of life. Kershaw spent his first years on a houseboat on Louisiana's Mermentau River, where his Cajun family eked out a primitive swamp existence before World War II.

His father, Daddy Jack, precariously supported the family as a fisherman and trapper while his mother, Mama Rita was mired in punishing work. Their life seems medieval in its lack of modern comforts.

Unlike the happy portrait in Kershaw's signature song "Louisiana Man," his father was a violent drunk who frequently beat his mother and threatened the rest of the family. In a gruesome and gripping account, Kershaw tells how his father killed himself with a shotgun.

Despite Daddy Jack's violence, Kershaw remembers him fondly as a hard-working, resourceful man who generally treated him with kindness. Father Jack also gave his son the gift of music. And, the inspiration for "Louisiana Man," one of the best songs of the rock era:

"He's got fishing lines strung across the Louisiana river,
got to catch a big fish for us to eat.
Setting traps in the swamps catching anything he can,
he gotta make a livin', he's a Louisiana man,
Gotta make a livin',  he's a Louisiana man."

The book's Dickensien story gains narrative power when Mama Rita moves the family to the small town of Lake Arthur. There, Kershaw, who began playing a fiddle fashioned from a cigar box, launches his musical career playing "Jole Blon" and other Cajun favorites outside a cafe.

The strength and perseverance of Mama Rita were a constant rock for Kershaw until her death. The book relates how she gained her own slice of fame from Kershaw's career.

Kershaw and his brothers Pee-Wee and Rusty begin playing in the rough Cajun clubs in Jennings, La. Eventually, Kershaw and his brother Rusty find regional success on radio and early TV. Beset by unscrupulous managers, the Kershaws make their first recordings and land regular engagements at clubs along the Highway 90 strip around Lake Charles near the Texas border.

Now performing as a duo, Rusty and Doug record a couple of hits and land a spot on the most famous country show, the Grand Ole Opry in Nashville, Tenn. The book gives recognition to the group as rock pioneers. Fusing traditional Cajun music with country and the blues, Rusty and Doug helped create rockabilly, the driving force of early rock.

After Rusty decides to leave the duo, Doug Kershaw continues as solo performer and songwriter in Nashville, hanging around with other future stars like Kris Kristofferson and Roger Miller. As with other musicians rising to fame, Kershaw gets hooked on drugs, in his case alcohol, amphetamines and eventually cocaine. Apparently he avoided heroin, which has wrecked so many musicians' lives.

Battling his addictions, poor business decisions and disastrous first two marriages, Kershaw perseveres and achieves success, thanks to an appearance along with Bob Dylan on Johnny Cash's national TV show. From there, Kershaw's fame grows as a frequent performer on TV, in Las Vegas, and in international concerts. He also records several hits.

But his personal life collapses. As financial worries mount, his addictions worsen. Later sections of the book grow less appealing. Brutally honest, Kershaw gives an unpleasant self-portrait of an unreliable, abusive personality. He explodes at band members and gains a bad reputation for showing up late for performances. His volatile behavior led to the hackneyed nickname echoed in the book's title.

Redemption comes with his marriage to his third wife, Pam. Despite starting a family with Pam, Kershaw continues his destructive behavior until Pam insists that he change his ways. With that dose of tough love, Kershaw at last finds tranquillity.

Assisted by his co-author Pelletier, the 83-year-old Kershaw tells his story in a frank, sometimes vulgar voice. His accounts of seeking to overcome addictions can be grueling, but he remains engaging even at the worst moments.

His earthy humor and folksy anecdotes reflect the Cajun joie de vivre that enabled them to overcome poverty and persecution. The book displays the story-telling power of "Louisiana Man."

The Mercer University Press deserves praise for publishing "Ragin' Cajun," which belongs among lauded recent memoirs by Bruce Springsteen, Keith Richards, Bob Dylan and Neil Young. Along with giving an in-depth look at the music business, Kershaw and Pelletier illuminate a forgotten segment of Cajun culture.

The book provides a valuable discography, including recordings Kershaw made with his brother Rusty, who died in 2001. Kershaw's extensive recordings, including those of traditional Cajun songs, warrant in-depth exploration.

With his Cajun novelty numbers and crowd-pleasing antics, Kershaw has been discounted as merely a niche musician. A dynamic performer, stylish songwriter, distinctive singer and accomplished fiddle player, Kershaw stands with the recently deceased Dr. John, Allen Toussaint and Fats Domino in the top tier of Louisiana musicians.

And, as this book richly illustrates, among the state's best storytellers.

 

On the Friday before the Museum of Modern Art's Closure: Miro, Pollock and Frank O'Hara

On the Friday before the Museum of Modern Art's closure for four months, crowds swelled throughout the afternoon.

A blockbuster exhibit, Joan Miro's "Birth of the World," spoke warnings from the era of Franco and Hitler. After the startling realism of his early paintings, Miro's work grew more ominous and fantastical, giving witness to the age of the dictators.

Viewers stood transfixed before Miro's monumental "Birth of the World," which expresses the fragility of our earth and existence. The elemental objects of the painting, emerging from a swirling gray background, speak of our life's delicate balance, that time is running out to save our planet.

The great masterpieces on the fifth floor drew huge crowds, desperate for final glimpses of works that would be shuttered until October. What shifts in history would occur before then? Would the world even exist?

Van Gogh's transcendent "Starry Night" drew the most visitors, as well as Monet's "Water Lillies" mural. The people stood in silence, as if saying farewell to loved ones. Young and old banded together, some taking Iphone photos to carry with them during the long season without art.

At the Jackson Pollock gallery, I felt the presence of Frank O'Hara, the MOMA curator who found enduring poetry in his lunch hour walks around Manhattan. Both men had been killed by accidents on Long Island.

Now, years later, the museum was expanding for a new era. The museum claims it will be able to show more of its collection, that it will serve a larger segment of the public. More and more New York institutions seek to cater to the wealthy.

I was a young man when I first visited MOMA, stunned by Pablo Picasso's "Guernica." Now, the time of the dictators had returned, the world was again in peril. I headed down the escalator and walked into the overcast afternoon. On Friday afternoon, people rushed past, headed toward the weekend.

Glenda Jackson's "King Lear" on Broadway to close early

The Broadway production of "King Lear" starring Glenda Jackson will close a month early.

Producer Scott Rudin announced that the show at the Cort Theater will have its final performance on June 9, The New York Times reported. The production had been scheduled to end on July 7.

The closure comes a year after the 83-year-old Jackson won her first Tony Award, given for her performance in Edward Albee's "Three Women."

First appearing on Broadway in the 1960s production of "Marat/Sade," the two-time Academy Award winner Jackson has been a favorite of New York critics and audiences.

Even Jackson's immense star power couldn't save a troubled production. Director Sam Gold's innovative interpretation of Shakespeare's 400-year-old tragedy received mixed reviews.

Nor did Jackson draw raves for her portrayal of Lear. She shockingly failed to receive a Tony nomination, with Ruth Wilson's dual performance as the Fool and Cordelia receiving the production's sole nomination.

Wilson's work fulfills a fascinating theory by some scholars that Shakespeare saw the characters as the same person. Both possess a pure love for the mentally failing king, and confront him with searing but healing truth.

London audiences were more receptive to a woman playing Shakespeare's most complex role. Jackson was lauded for her performance as the tormented king in director Deborah Warner's hit production at the Old Vic.

Lear is riven by masculine conflicts of pride, loss of authority and the waning of strength and sexual potency. I assume that Jackson portrays Lear as a primarily male figure, "every inch a king." The gender shouldn't matter. What counts is acting ability.

Gender is one of Shakespeare's major obsessions. Until the era of Charles II, boys played female roles. In "As You Like It" and other plays,women disguise themselves as men, exploring the comedy that rises from the confusion of mixed identities. Rather than radical, Jackson's performance continues Shakespeare traditions.

Shakespeare tragedies have been popular on Broadway, even in the recent past. Gold's production sounds difficult for audience comprehension, but the chance to see a great actress perform the theater's greatest role should be irresistible for theater-goers. The fizzling of Lear on Broadway is a troubling sign of cultural deterioration and the desire for unchallenging escapist entertainment.

 

 

New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival shows city's resilience

I once more knew what it means to miss New Orleans when I read Jay Pareles' New York Times article Thursday about the 50th Jazz and Heritage Festival, which begins this weekend in the Crescent City.

While New Orleans is known for its dysfunctional local government, high murder rate and economic distress, the Jazz and Heritage Festival is an overwhelming success.

As Pareles reports, the festival each year raises $3 million for the nonprofit foundation that puts on the event, which covers two weekends. The foundation uses the money for a range of educational programs and support for local musicians.

Perhaps the Jazzfest owes its popularity to being a daytime event. Going against New Orleans' reputation as a city that never sleeps, the Jazzfest closes each day at 7 p.m., as Pareles reported. That puts the focus on the music, rather than high-tech light shows and such.

Purists have criticized the festival for booking big names like this year's Katy Perry, but out of 688 performers, 600 are New Orleans and south Louisiana acts with mainly local followings, according to Pareles.

This year, a heralded appearance by the Rolling Stones stirred excitement, but the venerable group had to drop out because of Mick Jagger's heart surgery. Then replacement Fleetwood Mac canceled because of some mysterious illness suffered by Stevie Nicks. Now, Widespread Panic will perform.

The event began in 1970 at Beauregard Square, later known as Congo Square, a slave market where jazz originated with the slaves' chanting and dances. Growing success after a few struggling years led to the event moving to the New Orleans Fairgrounds. Jesus, I also remember betting on horse races there as a young man. I attended several of the early festivals at the fairgrounds, but didn't go to another until years later, when the event resumed after Hurricane Katrina.

Along with the music, the festival offers a great selection of Cajun, Creole and other varieties of New Orleans food. Sometimes I think of going just to get another helping of jambalaya.

You can have the Stones, Fleetwood Mac and Widespread Panic. I'm homesick to see New Orleans performers Irma Thomas, the Meters, the Neville Brothers and so on. I'd especially love to see master pianist Ellis Marsalis perform April 28 with his sons Wynnton, Branford, Delfeayo and Jason. Now in his 80s, Ellis played a big part in the festival's early success.

Every year when the Jazzfest rolls around, I think of my late friend Loftin, who had a complete collection of Jazz Festival posters. Hard to imagine that this will be the fifth Jazzfest he'll miss.

This year's poster shows the family of performers who have appeared at Jazz Fest, including those no longer with us like Professor Longhair and Fats Domino.

Many believe New Orleans won't survive. Old and new generations of Jazzfest musicians say otherwise.