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Hot 8 Brass Band
Hot 8 Brass Band

Checking Out the Hot 8 Brass Band at the Howlin’ Wolf

After a steak dinner at Crescent Steak House and a dessert at Angelo Brocato’s, I drove back to my hotel and tried to decide whether to go to a gig my homeboy Edward Jackson was on at the Blue Nile, or to hear Wessell “Warmdaddy” Anderson at Snug Harbor, or to check out the @Hot8BrassBand at the Howlin Wolf on South Peters. I soon realized that the Howlin Wolf was a block from the Courtyard by Marriott where I was staying, so I walked down there and checked out the Hot 8 Brass Band’s weekly Sunday night set. Even though I was exhausted from four hours of second-lining, I had a ball. The Hot 8 Brass Band have recently released a new album entitled The Life and Times of the Hot 8 Brass Band, and I bought a copy at the gig. You can keep up with new releases and scheduled appearances of the band by visiting http://www.hot8brassband.com/#12c/custom_plain or liking them on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/pages/Hot-8-Brass-Band/7758779639.

The crowd really didn’t seem to want to leave, and I didn’t either, but all good things must come to an end. I was facing a six hour drive back to Memphis that I could not postpone due to jury duty, and some of the bands, like the Hot 8, incredibly had only a brief rest period before having to be at another engagement. But I came away from the second-line experience with a feeling of exhiliration more than one of fatigue. Somehow, as I stopped in rather ordinary Metairie for coffee and food on the way out of town, it seemed as if I had passed between worlds. With I-10 gridlocked for some reason (perhaps the Saints game), I headed north across the Causeway instead, and back to Memphis, my mind replaying the day’s amazing scenes. 

The crowd really didn’t seem to want to leave, and I didn’t either, but all good things must come to an end. I was facing a six hour drive back to Memphis that I could not postpone due to jury duty, and some of the bands, like the Hot 8, incredibly had only a brief rest period before having to be at another engagement. But I came away from the second-line experience with a feeling of exhiliration more than one of fatigue. Somehow, as I stopped in rather ordinary Metairie for coffee and food on the way out of town, it seemed as if I had passed between worlds. With I-10 gridlocked for some reason (perhaps the Saints game), I headed north across the Causeway instead, and back to Memphis, my mind replaying the day’s amazing scenes. 

The crowd really didn’t seem to want to leave, and I didn’t either, but all good things must come to an end. I was facing a six hour drive back to Memphis that I could not postpone due to jury duty, and some of the bands, like the Hot 8, incredibly had only a brief rest period before having to be at another engagement. But I came away from the second-line experience with a feeling of exhiliration more than one of fatigue. Somehow, as I stopped in rather ordinary Metairie for coffee and food on the way out of town, it seemed as if I had passed between worlds. With I-10 gridlocked for some reason (perhaps the Saints game), I headed north across the Causeway instead, and back to Memphis, my mind replaying the day’s amazing scenes. 

I had moved between bands and divisions during the second-line, but from Claiborne Avenue on I decided to stay behind the Hot 8 Brass Band, who were keeping the groove with an intensity that belied how hot and tired they had to be. Past a Church’s Fried Chicken, we swung around onto Martin Luther King, a divided thoroughfare that used to be called Melpomene. The street wasn’t as wide as Claiborne, and the crowds were thick on both sides. Some had parked in the neutral ground, or set up folding chairs there, and one man had set up a barbecue grill and was selling food. The smell drifted invitingly over the parade route. 

I had moved between bands and divisions during the second-line, but from Claiborne Avenue on I decided to stay behind the Hot 8 Brass Band, who were keeping the groove with an intensity that belied how hot and tired they had to be. Past a Church’s Fried Chicken, we swung around onto Martin Luther King, a divided thoroughfare that used to be called Melpomene. The street wasn’t as wide as Claiborne, and the crowds were thick on both sides. Some had parked in the neutral ground, or set up folding chairs there, and one man had set up a barbecue grill and was selling food. The smell drifted invitingly over the parade route. 

I had moved between bands and divisions during the second-line, but from Claiborne Avenue on I decided to stay behind the Hot 8 Brass Band, who were keeping the groove with an intensity that belied how hot and tired they had to be. Past a Church’s Fried Chicken, we swung around onto Martin Luther King, a divided thoroughfare that used to be called Melpomene. The street wasn’t as wide as Claiborne, and the crowds were thick on both sides. Some had parked in the neutral ground, or set up folding chairs there, and one man had set up a barbecue grill and was selling food. The smell drifted invitingly over the parade route. 

The Young Men Olympian Second-Line In Front of the Dew Drop Inn 2011

Many of the uptown projects in New Orleans have been torn down and replaced by modern-looking townhomes, but the residents still poured out onto front porches and lawns to see the second-line as it passed down LaSalle Avenue. Over to my left I spied the legendary Dew Drop Inn, an African-American nightclub and hotel that launched the careers of many great musicians and singers. Although closed since Katrina, the sturdy building survived the monster storm, and there is talk of renovation and reopening. Turning onto Louisiana Avenue, we came to Big Man Lounge, apparently a known gathering spot for brass bands and second-liners. Here the bands actually came to a stop, and the members of the Young Men Olympian disappeared inside the lounge for a rest and a refreshment. Hearing my name called, I turned around to see Edward Jackson, the trombonist with To Be Continued who was marching today with the Hot 8, who gathered out in the neutral ground of Louisiana Avenue near the lounge. 

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.