Founded 1963 Relaunched 2019. The Postmodern South.
Month: <span>October 2011</span>
Month: October 2011

As we approached a church on Washington Avenue, we noticed that people seemed to have come outside to watch us pass. The band in front broke into a slow version of “Just A Closer Walk”, I thought at first as a respectful gesture to the congregation that was clearly still meeting. However, I soon realized that it was because of the cemetery in the next block, an ancient one with the above-ground tombs that remind New Orleanians that those who have passed are still among them, and so the song was in honor of the dead. Not just the dead of the cemetery, I imagined, but probably the deceased members of Young Men Olympian, the deceased band members, those who lost their lives in Katrina, those who were cut down all too young through neighborhood violence. African-Americans in New Orleans often say “God bless the dead” after mentioning a deceased person, and the city is no stranger to death. But the city is also an affirmation of life, and the band soon followed the dirge with “I’ll Fly Away”, the mirror image, which reminds us that what is grief for loved ones is bliss for the departed. Past the cemetery, the party atmosphere returned, but it is appropriate that New Orleanians will pause the party long enough to honor the dead. 

Not all the second-liners are dancers. Some participate in the rhythm with sticks, cowbells or empty beer bottles, anything that can keep a beat. Interviews with older New Orleanians suggest that at one time, when neighborhood rivalries were fiercer, second-liners had the responsibility of protecting the band and marchers from attack and carried weapons. Nowdays, their weapons are strictly musical, reinforcing the clave patterns of the bands’ bass drums. 

Not all the second-liners are dancers. Some participate in the rhythm with sticks, cowbells or empty beer bottles, anything that can keep a beat. Interviews with older New Orleanians suggest that at one time, when neighborhood rivalries were fiercer, second-liners had the responsibility of protecting the band and marchers from attack and carried weapons. Nowdays, their weapons are strictly musical, reinforcing the clave patterns of the bands’ bass drums. 

Not all the second-liners are dancers. Some participate in the rhythm with sticks, cowbells or empty beer bottles, anything that can keep a beat. Interviews with older New Orleanians suggest that at one time, when neighborhood rivalries were fiercer, second-liners had the responsibility of protecting the band and marchers from attack and carried weapons. Nowdays, their weapons are strictly musical, reinforcing the clave patterns of the bands’ bass drums. 

As the second-line passes through different neighborhoods, people come out of houses and businesses alike. The party spirit is infectious, and some come off their porches dancing, and occasionally even join in behind the band heading on up the street. When the parade passes a particularly-significant intersection, such as 2nd and Dryades, where the Sportsman Lounge and Wild Magnolias headquarters are located, there may be a large crowd of people gathered on the sidelines. Occasionally, the second-line itself will head into a bar or lounge for a refreshment break, or in order to salute another neighborhood or marching club. 

As the second-line passes through different neighborhoods, people come out of houses and businesses alike. The party spirit is infectious, and some come off their porches dancing, and occasionally even join in behind the band heading on up the street. When the parade passes a particularly-significant intersection, such as 2nd and Dryades, where the Sportsman Lounge and Wild Magnolias headquarters are located, there may be a large crowd of people gathered on the sidelines. Occasionally, the second-line itself will head into a bar or lounge for a refreshment break, or in order to salute another neighborhood or marching club. 

As the second-line passes through different neighborhoods, people come out of houses and businesses alike. The party spirit is infectious, and some come off their porches dancing, and occasionally even join in behind the band heading on up the street. When the parade passes a particularly-significant intersection, such as 2nd and Dryades, where the Sportsman Lounge and Wild Magnolias headquarters are located, there may be a large crowd of people gathered on the sidelines. Occasionally, the second-line itself will head into a bar or lounge for a refreshment break, or in order to salute another neighborhood or marching club. 

Once all the divisions had “come out the door”, the parade began to move. But second-lines are unusual parades. Parades in other cities usually move down major thoroughfares, but second-lines often keep to backstreets. And while most parades are rather formal affairs, the second-line is more a party in motion. The dancers called “second-liners” are behind the various bands of each division, such as the Hot 8 Brass Band or the Young Pinstripes, but they’re also on the sidewalks alongside, and even the porches. People move from participants to observers, and then back to participants again. And the whole time, people are walking up beside you offering to sell cold drinks, cold beers, even New Orleans-style snowballs. And while a second-line is about four hours of marching under the hot sun, you hardly notice because of the constant bass-and-snare drum groove from the band in front of you. They’re the ones who have reason to be hot and tired, and they seem to be having more fun than any of us. 

Once all the divisions had “come out the door”, the parade began to move. But second-lines are unusual parades. Parades in other cities usually move down major thoroughfares, but second-lines often keep to backstreets. And while most parades are rather formal affairs, the second-line is more a party in motion. The dancers called “second-liners” are behind the various bands of each division, such as the Hot 8 Brass Band or the Young Pinstripes, but they’re also on the sidewalks alongside, and even the porches. People move from participants to observers, and then back to participants again. And the whole time, people are walking up beside you offering to sell cold drinks, cold beers, even New Orleans-style snowballs. And while a second-line is about four hours of marching under the hot sun, you hardly notice because of the constant bass-and-snare drum groove from the band in front of you. They’re the ones who have reason to be hot and tired, and they seem to be having more fun than any of us. 

Once all the divisions had “come out the door”, the parade began to move. But second-lines are unusual parades. Parades in other cities usually move down major thoroughfares, but second-lines often keep to backstreets. And while most parades are rather formal affairs, the second-line is more a party in motion. The dancers called “second-liners” are behind the various bands of each division, such as the Hot 8 Brass Band or the Young Pinstripes, but they’re also on the sidewalks alongside, and even the porches. People move from participants to observers, and then back to participants again. And the whole time, people are walking up beside you offering to sell cold drinks, cold beers, even New Orleans-style snowballs. And while a second-line is about four hours of marching under the hot sun, you hardly notice because of the constant bass-and-snare drum groove from the band in front of you. They’re the ones who have reason to be hot and tired, and they seem to be having more fun than any of us.