THE UGLY AMERICAN

Anyone who wonders why American tourists are not always well received in France should check out the photo of this shirtless, pot-bellied Yank wandering through the manicured gardens of the Versailles palace as if it was the beach at Coney Island. In the summer, Americans jog bare-breasted through the Tuileries gardens, down the Champs-Elysees and up the stairs at Montmartre. Just because they’re on vacation doesn’t mean this historic European metropolis is their private playland. French women may sometimes go topless on their beaches (a rarity these days) but you’d never see a native going shirtless through the French capital. Respect is a two-way street. 

IN PRAISE OF REAL THINGS

ROUGHING IT IN FEMØ

Back in France after four days at the Femø Jazz Festival with the Vintage Jazzmen. Now in its 25th year, the festival takes place each summer on the small Danish island of Femø (4 sq. mi., 125 permanent residents). The headliner this year was New Orleans's own Lucien Barbarin, who did a funky set with the Danish group Six City Stompers. Our band included Dan Vernhettes (tpt.), Francis Guéro (tbn), Jean-Luc Giraud (dms), Pierre-Luc Puig (bass), Enzo Mucci (banjo), and guest vocalist Denise Gordon.
     Femø is a strange place. The island itself is tranquil, remote, rustic, with vast fields of wheat and rye criss-crossed by narrow roads, surrounded by the blue Baltic. There are two villages consisting of a dozen or so traditional houses, a few shops and cafes, and a port with a grocery store, a sausage stand and an outdoor bar that is frequented from morning to night by Danes dedicated to what appears to be the national sport: nonstop guzzling of beer and schnapps.

     I have never seen such relentless boozing—even in New Orleans. Men, women, young and old, seem to spend most of their time imbibing. As a result of this—and a fatty diet heavy on sausage, pork, and cheese—many of the Danes we saw on the island were obese and most of the men sported pot-bellies the size of watermelons. Unfortunately, this does not stop them from going around shirtless, letting it all hang out, and in many cases exposing tattoos marked by a frightening gothic angularity. Admittedly this is vacation time and probably a non-representative sample of the Danish population as a whole. And the other side of the coin is that the Danes we met on the island were welcoming, tolerant, and easygoing.

     The festival takes place in the middle of a vast campground, surrounded by tents and trailers. (There are no real hotels on the island.) Upon our arrival, we were  taken aback by our accommodations: abandoned trailers with no toilets or running water, no electricity (until a Rube Goldberg network of extension cords was hooked up), and in many cases no wheels. These rusting hulks were musty and moldy, infested with mosquitos, and became veritable ovens when the sun beat down on them.
     None of which seemed to bother the organisers, who have done things this way for a quarter century. Actually longer: Femø traditionally attracted back-to-nature nudists who came here each summer to get away from the rigidly organized life of the cities and sprawl out in the sun, sleeping in tents or in the open air. The nudists eventually disappeared (or put their clothes on) but the festival retains elements of their no-frills culture.

A remnant of nudism remains in one restricted area of the island: the so-called Women's Camp, which each year attracts several hundred women of all ages. It began as part of the women's rights movement, but is now dominated by lesbians. Men are strictly prohibited, though transsexuals who were born male are admitted with proper identification. Needless to say, the boys in the band didn't get a chance to make first-hand observations.  (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Femø)

STEVE BLAILOCK, 1944 - 2013

Steve Blailock had moved to Texas by the time I arrived in New Orleans in 2007, but he was the kind of guy that people talked about even when he wasn't there. I met him at the Palm Court during one of his periodic visits and he more than lived up to his reputation as a passionate and inventive jazz guitarist. His whole body would get into the music—feet stomping, head nodding, torso rocking forward and back as played. He could play any kind of music, but was especially impressive on blues numbers like "Trouble in Mind" or "Careless Love" where his Mississippi Delta roots came through loud and clear. I played with him from time to time when he was in town, and though I did not know him as well as some of the guys he had played with regularly during his New Orleans years, I felt a special bond with him. Maybe it was his Mississippi accent, which reminded me of my Mother's family in Jackson; maybe it was the good-old-boy warmth of his manner and the unaffected enthusiasm he exuded whenever he was on the bandstand. We always greeted each other with a big bear hug and enjoyed playing together. I knew he had had trouble with drugs and alcohol in the past, and some musicians recalled that he had a terrible temper in those days. But as far as I could see he had kicked all that. Who knows what led him to shoot his Chinese wife and blow his own brains out on July 19? Perhaps all the passion that went into his music also had a dark side. Perhaps something just snapped in his brain. But I can't help thinking that if he'd had a guitar in his hands at that fatal moment instead of a gun, we'd still be looking forward to his next visit to the Palm Court. Rest easy, old friend. Your music still echoes in our hearts.
http://www.nola.com/music/index.ssf/2013/07/longtime_new_orleans_jazz_guit.html

EX-PRESIDENTIAL FRONTRUNNER INDICTED FOR "PIMPING"

Remember Dominique Strauss-Kahn, the former head of the International Monetary Fund who was accused of raping a maid at the New York Sofitel in May 2011? The one-time French presidential frontrunner got off the hook that time after the New York D.A. dropped charges due to unreliable testimony by the alleged victim. ("DSK" later settled a civil lawsuit brought against him by the maid for a reported $6 million.) Apparently unable to learn his lesson, Strauss-Kahn was indicted this Friday for "soliciting prostitutes" for sex-parties that he admittedly took part in at the Carlton Hotel in Lille. His attorneys predict victory and vindication in a trial that could last as long as one year. The former political superstar better hope they're right: he risks ten years in prison and a € 1.5 million fine if convicted.

MAJESTIC SITES AND BITES

John and Vitirice Rankin's last day with us was devoted to two of France's most majestic sites: the Chateau de Saint Germain, built under François I, and the Chateau de Versailles, home of the Sun King Louis XIV.
We took a leisurely stroll through the gardens of the Chateau de Saint Germain, with a spectacular view of the Paris and its western suburbs from its terrace, and had lunch at an outdoor cafe located in the park. Versailles was even more spectacular, though we did not try to enter the Chateau itself due to the carloads of tourists who formed a line of several hundred yards snaking across the cobblestone courtyard. But the park, with its classical statuary, manicured hedges and dozens of ornate fountains (none functioning at the time, unfortunately) was worth the visit in itself. An added attraction was a series of monumental sculptures by Italian artist Guiseppe Panone.
Back home, John and I worked on some Django Reinhardt tunes—Daphne, Minor Swing, Swing 42, Dounce Ambiance—which we hope to do live next time we get together at the Columns in New Orleans in October. Dinner was at the Brasserie du Théâtre, across the street from the Chateau de Saint Germain, bathed in its golden nightie illumination. Sylvaine and I introduced our guests to several varieties of local oysters (no ketchup or horseradish, only lemon juice or vinegar and shallots), raw mussels, sea snails, and possibly the world's best baba au rhum, liberally doused with Saint James rum and topped with home-made crème Chantilly. The night before, Sylvaine had fed them a rabbit stew (fricasée de lapin) washed down with a nice Macon red, so we had them pretty well acclimated to the French way of life by the time they left.

A MIDSUMMER'S UPDATE

Our arrival at our summer base in the Paris suburb of Saint Germain-en-Laye last month was greeted by a spate of cold rainy weather that the had persisted through much of the Spring. This caused widespread depression among the French (who are easily depressed anyway), though they shouldn't have been surprised. Springtime in Paris is a cruel myth; the season is most often chilly and soggy. Sylvaine and I were not that unhappy about the weather, since we had left New Orleans amid 95 degree heat and steam-bath humidity and found the fraîcheur a welcome relief—like having free air-conditioning inside and out. We even made some fires in our fireplace, which was cheery and cozy, although it was late June. The weather eventually warmed up—it’s in the 80s now, and the French are starting to complain about the heat. The upside of all this is that our garden is starting to explode with late-blooming flowers: roses, hollyhocks, wisteria, lavender... Sun sets late here this time of year, so we sit on our patio sipping cool drinks and listening to the birds sing until past 10 pm while the sprinkler waters our moss-infested lawn. 

Not that we haven’t been busy doing other things. Sylvaine set about repainting the guest room while I grabbed my clarinet and took off on a brief music tour. On July 1, I played at Switzerland’s Zofingen Jazz Festival with Dan Vernhettes’ Vintage Jazzmen and Gospel singer Denise Gordon. On July 4, I met up with my old friend Luciano Invernizzi for a dinner concert in Castello Colloredo, Italy. This picturesque village near the city of Udine boasts an ancient, crumbling castle and a restaurant with an upscale menu that belies its nondescript name of “La Taverna.”  We played in the Taverna's garden and enjoyed an exceptional meal of asparagus mousse and braised veal.

         

Next day I was off to Baden-Baden, where I linked up with drummer Trevor Richards, trumpeter Clive Wilson, bassist Bob Culverhouse, pianist Simon Holliday, and a terrific Scottish trombonist named Dave whose last name eludes me at the moment. For centuries, the historic German spa at Baden-Baden has been a playground for Europe’s royals, rich and over-privileged. The tradition continues today, though with more ostentatious vulgarity than old world elegance. As we dined at an outdoor curry restaurant near our hotel, we were treated to a display of in-your-face rolling stock that drove nonstop down the narrow cobblestone street: Audis, Mercedes convertibles, BMW roadsters, Ferraris, Porches. The town was crammed with upscale boutiques. Most of the people wandering around the streets sported Swiss watches, gold bracelets, and designer duds that underscored the Germans’ reputation for conspicuous consumption. The next day we played an open-air concert in the garden of the famous Kurhaus, the white-columned 19th-century edifice that houses the town’s casino. Five days after my return to France, I teamed up with bassist Enzo Mucci and guitarist Christophe Davot for a trio job at a jazz-café called the Gramophone in Marly-le-Roi. Next month I hit the road again for another Gospel set with Denise Gordon and the Vintage Jazzmen in Femø, Denmark August 1 and 2.

Last week, Sylvaine and I drove to the Normandy fishing town of Saint Valery-en-Caux, where the sun was out but a cold wind was blowing so hard we could hardly stand up. Swimming in the crashing surf was out of the question. So we headed further west and returned via Trouville, where we had a wonderful seafood luncheon on the terrace of the Hotel Central—an old favorite of ours—and sat on the sandy beach for a couple of hours reading (Faulkner for me, a French magazine for Sylvaine) and listening to the wind and waves. 

Shortly after our return to Saint Germain, we were joined by visitors from New Orleans: guitarist John Rankin and his wife Vitrice. We have spent the past few days showing them around Saint Germain and Paris, eating and drinking, playing music, and generally trying to make them jealous of the sybaritic French lifestyle. Our scheme seems to be working: they have plunged into their sightseeing adventure with cameras clicking and wallets emptying as they buy the tempting wares of the open-air markets, sip coffee and beer at the outdoor cafes and treat us to lunch at charming little plat-du-jour restaurants. Yesterday we took them around the Latin Quarter—the Sorbonne, Luxembourg Gardens, a superb Chagall exhibition, the 11th-century Saint Germain des Prés church, Saint Sulpice (where the albino monk killed the nun in The Da Vinci Code) et al. Today, they’re off on their own, guidebook and metro passes in hand. If they ever find their way back, we’ll have dinner in the garden and watch the sun set. It’s a tough life, but somebody has to live it.

TOMMY SANCTON GIGLIST - JULY - SEPTEMBER 2013

I'll be spending the entire summer in Europe, so my usual appearances in New Orleans are suspended until the end of September.

Here's a short list of my European concerts this summer:

Monday, July 1: Zofingen (Switzerland) Jazz Festival with The Vintage Jazzmen of France

Thursday, July 4:  Castello Colloredo (Italy) with Luciano Invernizzi's New Orleans Jazz Band.

Saturday, July 6: Baden-Baden (Germany) with the Trevor Richards Jazz Band.

Friday, July 12:  Le Gramophone, Marly-le-Roi (France), with Enzo Mucci and Gilles Chevaucherie.

Thursday, Aug 1 / Friday Aug 2: Femø Jazz Festival (Denmark), with The Vintage Jazzmen of France

Friday, August 30: Le Gramophone, Marly-le-Roi (France), with Enzo Mucci, bass, and Christophe Davot, guitar.

"Hymns & Spirituals" CD

Offbeat Magazine has just posted a podcast of my recent interview about our new CD "Hymns & Spirituals." The album is a compilation of performances at Trinity Episcopal Church in New Orleans from 2007 to 2009. It is currently available at Louisiana Music Factory, the Trinity Church bookstore, and the Historic New Orleans Collection shop. Check it out: Podcast of Tom Sancton interview

JAZZ IN MARCIAC

Just back from the "Jazz in Marciac" festival in southwest France. Founded 35 years ago by the local mayor, Jean-Louis Guilhaumon, this annual event in a small village of 1,100 souls has become one of Europe's major jazz festivals, drawing a quarter of a million visitors over a two week period. Headliners this year included Wynton Marsalis, Harry Connick, Jr., Sonny Rollins, Lucky Peterson, Bobby McFerrin, Esperanza Spalding, Joshua Redman, and Diana Reeves, among others.
     The big name artists all performed under a 5,000-seat tent, while a stage set up in the town square hosted the so-called "Off Festival" acts. That's where I performed on August 14th and 15th with a hand-picked group of Europe-based musicians under the name of the "Tommy Sancton New Orleans Swing Sextet." The band consisted of trumpeter Jerome Etcheberry (France), bassist Mathias Allamane (France), drummer Guillaume Nouaux (France), trombonist and vocalist Paddy Sherlock (Ireland), guitarist David Blenkhorn (Australia, now living in France) and myself (New Orleans) on clarinet.

Tommy Sancton New Orleans Swing Sextet at Marciac

The idea was to play New Orleans-inspired music without trying to adhere strictly to the "trad" style. The use of an electric guitar in place of a piano helped give the band a somewhat freer, more modern sound. Each musician brought his own ideas and stylistic approach to the mix. I found the resulting music fresh and exciting and hope to do some more festival work with this group next year. Off stage, the band had a great time eating the local culinary specialties—foie gras, cassoulet, confit de canard, etc.—and jamming in some of the little bars near the square.