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Delta Bound
The first time I heard the Delta Bound album, Romain and I were on our way to Lafayette,
deliberating over what music to play next. When he asked if he could get my opinion on the
experimental history album he’d been working on, how could I have refused? I was trapped in
the passenger seat. But despite my initial reservations, after a few songs I began to realize that I
was listening to something extraordinary.
Instead of recording a trad jazz album with yet another permutation of the genre’s classics, Romain places
those songs within their historical context with an extended auditory meditation on musical memory and
Louisiana’s violent history.
The resulting album is unflinching, visionary, and sincere. I’d never heard
anything like this particular assemblage—a 16th century account of
Hernando
De Soto’s expedition
set to a lilting clarinet,
Sister Helen Prejean’s clarion
voice ringing out for justice, bittersweet avant-garde poetry, Black
Masking Indians chanting on
St. Joseph’s Night
, Jeffrey Broussard’s
turbulent accordion
—whose disparate elements draw from
Louisiana’s deepest wells.
When Romain asked me to write the liner notes, I eagerly
accepted. But I was worried that if I tried to explain the album
or interpret its meaning, it would only diminish the work. Art
must be allowed to reveal itself on its own terms. What I offer
instead are my reflections on the broader questions
posed by this album.
How does music carry memory? How
does New Orleans music carry memory
differently? Is there meaning in historical
violence? What is the meaning of Louisiana’s
historical violence? These questions may be
impossible to fully answer, but the urgency of the
present moment compels us to at least try.
-- Holly Devon
1. Introduction
(Holly Devon)
2. Delta Bound
(Feat.
Bruce Sunpie Barnes
)
3. De Soto Part 1
4. Le Dormeur Du Val
(Feat. Anna Laura Quinn)
5. Sweet Lorna
(Feat.
Paul Chéenne
)
6. What About This
(
Frank Stanford
)
7. Send Me To The ‘Lectric Chair
8. Letter to John Paul II
(
Sister Helen Prejean
)
9. La Chanson de Mardi Gras
(Feat.
The Daiquiri Queens
)
10. Joie de Vivre
(
Zachary Richard
)
11. I’m On The Wonder
(Feat.
Jeffery Broussard
)
12. St. Malo
(Feat.
Cedric Watson
)
13. Primer
(
Daiquiri René Jones
)
14. Buddy Bolden’s Blues
(Feat.
Kid Chocolate
)
15. Free Day
(Sidney Bechet)
16. St. Joseph Night
(
Queen Mary Kay
)
17. De Soto Part 2
18. We’re A Very Young Country
(
Sister Helen Prejean
)
19. Nuages
(Feat. Anna Laura Quinn)
One Mardi Gras the people sought shelter from the freezing rain hurling itself onto Frenchmen Street.
A trad jazz band was playing at the Spotted Cat, and the room was warmed by swaying bodies; the
revelers floated across the dance floor like ethereal marine animals. As the
rain pelted the foggy
windows
, those sultry old ragtime tunes floated them through temporal currents.
In New Orleans, forward isn’t the only way to move through time.
When
Sidney Bechet recalls his grandfather
, by the way he talks you’d swear he knew his grandfather as
a young man, that once he even saw him fall in love. He tells his grandfather’s love story like he watched
him take a young woman in his arms, right in the middle of Congo Square, and dance with her so close
their fates intertwined with each other’s bodies.
His father may have been the one to tell him the story, but Sidney Bechet
speaks from inside the memory itself.
Jelly Roll Morton played his memories across the ivory keys
as he recounted them to Alan Lomax. When he
remembered the way oldtimers used to play piano in the
Storyville days, his fingers told the tale.
In New Orleans, memories
linger in the humid air.
Living in New York, Jelly Roll
Morton must have been surprised at how fast
the current of time was moving, how
quickly he was forgotten.
How had the music he was just
cradling in hands flown so far
and so fast?
In New Orleans, legends are remembered.
Wasn’t it Jelly Roll Morton who recorded
Buddy Bolden’s blues
,
picking them out of the air just before they slipped out of reach?
All the sounds in the New Orleans air of his childhood
became notes in his songs, from the high society strut to
the Spanish tinge. He played a naked dance like the
ones the girls used to strip to in the District. None
of this New York forgetting.
“In New York you just get rid of it,” says
Danny Barker. “In New Orleans you
linger on.”
Down in the bayou
, music encircles
time even as it moves through it.
Every year in West Louisiana the
Courir de
Mardi Gras
sing old songs by the graves of
fallen musicians before they fight in the fields
for the
contents of the gumbo pot
.
Every year on
St. Joseph’s Night
, the
memory of Congo Square walks through
the cracked streets, feathered and
resplendent. Queen Kim of the
Original Wild Tchoupitou
-
las carries the rhythms of a
people at war.
Not all memories hanging in
the air are benign.
What does the land remember of its
people? Tunica, Chitimacha,
Natchez, Choctaw, Biloxi,
Bayagoula. De Soto, Antoine DuPratz,
Sieur de Bienville. (Whence came the
international conquistadors
and their
supernatural plague?) Bambara, Mandinga, Wolof,
Fulbe, Ibo, Fon, Kongo. (How much easier they seemed to
make peace with the swamp.)
“That square, in a way of speaking, was my grandfather’s square,”
says Sidney Bechet. “He was always ahead of the music there. It was
there in his mind even before he got to the square and began performing it.
It was his drum, his voice, his dancing. And people had to come. They couldn’t
move away from it. It was all the people.”
For as long as the written word has lived in Louisiana, the highway that is the
Mississippi River has run
blood red
. But everything can be beautiful under a
poet’s
gaze
, and some stories are there to help you stare the
Devil down.
Bruce “Sunpie” Barnes was born in 1963 in Benton,
Arkansas. The tenth of eleventh children, Barnes grew up in
what is now Benton’s Ralph Bunche community. Barnes’s
parents were sharecroppers who worked on various
plantations in southern Arkansas and the Delta before
migrating north to find work in Saline County’s open-pit
bauxite mines. In Bauxite, Barnes’s family lived in tar-paper
shacks in what was known then as “Africa Camp” before
moving to Benton.
Barnes’s first exposure to music came through his father,
Willie Barnes Sr., who was a blues harmonica player raised on
plantations around fellow musicians such as “Big Bill”
Broonzy, Sonny Boy Williamson II, and Roosevelt Sykes.
Because his father was reluctant to pay for piano lessons for
him, he taught himself instead, taking the name “Sunpie”
from an uncle who routinely visited from Bastrop, Louisiana.
Barnes later learned the harmonica from his father. Soon,
Barnes was playing songs by his father’s favorite bluesman,
Sonny Boy Williamson.
Barnes started working with the National Park Service (NPS)
in 1984, becoming a park ranger and naturalist at the Jean
Lafitte National Park and Barataria Nature Preserve located
just outside New Orleans, Louisiana. He conducted
educational tours of the 23,000-acre wetland preserve, and he
played in local venues in the evenings. After more than twelve
years with the Barataria Preserve, Barnes went to work at the
New Orleans Jazz National Park in 1999, where he played
music while educating visitors about the culture and traditions of his adopted home.
Alongside his band, the Louisiana Sunspots, Barnes has pioneered a unique mixture of zydeco, blues, gospel,
jazz, and African and Afro-Caribbean music into a sound that he dubbed “Afro-Louisiana” music. Barnes
plays accordion, harmonica, piano, trombone, rub board, and various other instruments.
In August 2010, Barnes succeeded Chief Albert Morris as leader of the Northside Skull and Bones Gang,
continuing a tradition that dates to 1819. Every Mardi Gras, members of the gang dress in homemade skeleton
costumes and call on ancestral spirits from New Orleans and Africa. The gang gathers before dawn and, prior
to marching through the street, sings songs in Créole French and English, waking the citizens of New Orleans.
Bruce “Sunpie" Barnes
Paul Chéenne
Paul Chéenne is a saxophone player, sociologist, anthropologist, and
photographer born and raised in Normandy, France. He started to learn
the saxophone at the age of seven and discovered reggae music
unexpectedly at the age of 10. By the age of 16, Paul founded the Clean
HeArt Sound System, a DJing crew playing 100% Jamaican music. By the
age of 20, he had already had the chance to work with Jamaican reggae
legends such as Max Romeo, Israel Vibration, Mighty Diamonds, Lee
Scratch Perry, Buju Banton, and Gyptian.
After completing a degree in sociology and anthropology a few months
prior to Hurricane Katrina, Paul came to New Orleans to participate in
the rebuilding. Paul started playing with the Young Fellaz Brass Band in
2009 while performing with different bands and learning more about
New Orleans standards and traditions. In late 2010, Paul played for the first time with TBC Brass Band, of
which he has been a band member ever since.
“T.B.C represents for me the best of New Orleans music, not because I’m a part of it but because I truly
believe that it carries the soul of New Orleans streets and second line culture with it. No glitter, no fakeness,
real powerful and soulful music. Nothing else. I feel lucky and honored to be a part of this crew and these
guys are my family here. I am humbled to be a part of this tradition and cherish it every day.”
Born out of close friendships and a mutual love of classic Cajun dance music,
the Daiquiri Queens made their debut at the 2017 South Louisiana Blackpot
Festival & Cookoff. They have since gone on to become local Louisiana
favorites for late-night dances and major festivals alike, performing at the New
Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival, the Old Tone Roots Music
Festival in upstate New York and Festival International de Louisiane in
Lafayette.
Fronted by guitarists Jamie Lynn Fontenot and Miriam McCracken, the
Daiquiri Queens bring a fresh new take and style to traditional Louisiana
French music. Their harmonies are paired with the seasoned playing of
accordionist John Dowden and fiddler Kelli Jones, with Chelsea Moosekian on
the drums. The quintet’s debut album, produced by Chris Stafford of Feufollet,
was released in 2020.
The Daiquiri Queens
Frank Stanford is an American poet best known for the epic,
“The Battlefield Where the Moon Says I Love You”. Born in
1948 in Mississippi and raised between Memphis and
northern Arkansas, Stanford was a poetry prodigy with a
reputation among the Fayetteville literati.
In 1975, he established Lost Roads Publishers in order to, as
he put it, “reclaim the landscape of American poetry.” In 1977
he published the much awaited book,
The Battlefield
Where the Moon Says I Love You
, which brought him
rising acclaim.
A year later, however, Stanford took his own
life, leaving with the public his poems and
his legend.
Frank Stanford
Sister Helen Prejean is known around the world for her
tireless work against the death penalty. She has been
instrumental in sparking national dialogue on capital
punishment and in shaping the Catholic Church’s vigorous
opposition to all executions.
Born in 1939 in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, she joined the
Sisters of St. Joseph in 1957. In 1982, she moved into the St.
Thomas Housing Project in New Orleans in order to live
with those she was working to help. While there, Sister
Helen began corresponding with Patrick Sonnier, who had
been sentenced to death for the murder of two teenagers.
Two years later, when Patrick Sonnier was put to death in
the electric chair, Sister Helen was there to witness his
execution.
After witnessing this execution, Sister Helen realized that
this lethal ritual would remain unchallenged unless its
secrecy was stripped away, and so she wrote a book:
Dead
Man Walking: An Eyewitness Account of the Death Penalty in
the United States
. The book and its accompanying speaking
tour ignited a national debate on capital punishment and
inspired an Academy Award winning movie, a play, and an
opera.
Sister Helen works with people of all faiths as well as those who follow no
established faith, but her voice has had a special resonance with her fellow
Catholics. Over the decades, Sister Helen has made personal approaches to two popes,
John Paul II and Pope Francis, urging them to establish the Catholic Church’s position as
unequivocally opposed to capital punishment under any circumstances. After Sister Helen’s urging, under
John Paul II the catechism was revised to strengthen the church’s opposition to executions, although it
allowed for a very few exceptions. Not long after meeting with Sister Helen in August of 2018, Pope Francis
announced new language of the Catholic Catechism which declares that the death penalty is an attack on the
inviolability and dignity of a person, with no exceptions.
Today capital punishment is still on the books in 30 states in the USA, but it has fallen into disuse in most of
those states. Prosecutors and juries alike are turning away from death sentences, with the death penalty
becoming increasingly aberrant . Sister Helen continues her work, dividing her time between educating the
public, campaigning against the death penalty, counseling individual death row prisoners, and working with
murder victims’ family members.
Sister Helen Prejean
Cultural activist, environmentalist poet, and singer-songwriter Zachary
Richard’s roots are deeply planted in his native Louisiana. Inspired by
the various styles of the region, his songs go beyond the limitations of
any particular genre. Zachary’s style is uniquely his own.
Zachary received his first recording contract at the age of 21. With the
advance money from the record company, he purchased a Cajun
accordion. From that moment on, he was swept up by the French
language culture of Louisiana.
From 1976 until 1981, Zachary lived in Montreal, recording seven
French language albums including two gold albums,
Mardi Gras
and
Migration
. Zachary returned to Louisiana in the early
1980s and began another phase of his career, this time
recording in English.
In 1994, after an extended absence from the
French market, Zachary returned to
Canada to play at the Acadian World
Congress in New Brunswick.
Passionately inspired by his heritage once again, Zachary
began a new collection of French songs; the result was
Cap Enragé.
This double platinum (Canada) album
established Zachary Richard as one of the foremost
singer-songwriters in the French-speaking world.
The celebrated Creole poet, Aimé Césaire, once said
that to separate himself from one of his languages
(French and Créole) would be like cutting off one of
his hands. It is much the same for Zachary.
Participating completely in two distinct cultures and
creating in his two languages, French and English,
Zachary’s artistic experience is unique. He is the most
American of French songwriters, and the
most French of the American.
Zachary Richard
My grandparents were part of the last monolingual generation.
Though they didn’t speak English there was [in Louisiana] an
understanding, a reasonable agreement [between French and
English speaking people]. But when my parents went to school, they
were forced to speak English though they’d never before heard a word of
it.
While raising their children, what my parents’ generation started to
do was to stop speaking to them in their mother tongue and start
speaking to the children—that is, my generation—in English. As a
result, we spoke English at home, but whenever a French-speaking
elder was there, we spoke French out of respect.
I was always fascinated by these elders because it seemed to me they
enjoyed life so much more. My grandparents’ generation was always
a kind of mythic generation for me. They had just an incredible love
of life.
I’d say my relationship to speaking French is a kind of search for
that state of mind, that feeling of happiness I found in Andre
Boudreaux’s sitting room. Everybody there was laughing and
enjoying themselves. My grandmother put her handkerchief on the
floor and danced on its four corners—she was the only one in the region who
could do it.
And so there was a kind of exuberance, a way of moving through life that was totally
outside the very serious American view of success. Work and more work—I think that was
really my impression of what we can call my American experience.
Nevertheless there was that other part of my experience as a young boy, that place
where we all truly enjoyed ourselves. Everything that happened there was the most
joyous part of my life, and I am trying in my way to reclaim that.
Joie de Vivre
Jeffery Broussard, born in 1967, is a zydeco accordion and
fiddle player. Jeffery is the son of the esteemed accordionist
Delton Broussard. At the age of eight he started his musical
career in his father's legendary band, The Lawtell Playboys.
There, Jeffery was exposed to a number of great players,
including Calvin Carrere, the king of the zydeco fiddle. Jeffery
has retained the precious melodies and songs he heard at home,
at social gatherings, and on the band stand.
Louisiana is a hotbed of creativity and
culture, the flames of which have been
stoked by the Creole people. Zydeco
was originally called "Creole music"
and it combines European, African,
and Caribbean musical traditions
with syncopated rhythms. Within
the Zydeco musical community, the
bilingual Jeffery Broussard is
renowned for his skillful use of the
accordion and the fiddle. From the
depths of despair in the bluesy tracks to
giving you the time of your life in
the party tracks, Jeffery Broussard knows
how to impart emotion to his crowds.
Jeffery Broussard and Robbie Robinson founded Zydeco Force in the late 1980s, a band who was at the
forefront of the nouveau zydeco movement. Jeffery's accordion and vocals defined the nouveau style of
Creole music. He incorporated the soulful sounds of R&B into contemporary zydeco music and dance.
Since then, Broussard has come full circle in his career. He grew up in the traditional zydeco, brought in a
new sound in the 1980s, and has now returned to his roots. With his band, Jeffery Broussard & The Creole
Cowboys, Jeffery is cultivating and inspiring new generations of Creole Zydeco fans.
In 2008, music journalist Herman Fuselier wrote, "If the crown (for King of Zydeco) was resurrected, my
top candidate would be Jeffery Broussard. My idea of king is not the guy with the hottest band, most
popular song, or most women around the bandstand. I think of a musician who can command the
accordion like no other. That's easily Jeffery Broussard, who is pound for pound the best zydeco accordion
player around."
Jeffery Broussard
One of the brightest young talents to emerge in
Cajun, Creole, and Zydeco (Louisiana French)
music over the last decade, Cedric Watson is a
four-time Grammy nominated fiddler, singer,
accordionist, and songwriter with seemingly
unlimited potential.
Originally from San Felipe, Texas, Cedric made
his first appearance at the age of 19 at the
Zydeco Jam in Houston. Just two years later, he
moved to South Louisiana, quickly immersing
himself in French music and language.
Over the next several years, Cedric performed
French music in 17 countries and on seven
full-length albums with various groups,
including the Pine Leaf Boys, Corey Ledet, Les
Amis Creole with Ed Poullard and J.B. Adams, and with his own group, Bijou
Creole.
Cedric Watson & Bijou Creole resurrect the ancient sounds of the French and Spanish contra
dance and bourré alongside the spiritual rhythms of the tribes of West Africa, who were sold as
slaves in the Carribean and Louisiana by the French and Spanish.
Cedric plays everything from forgotten Creole melodies and obscure Dennis McGee reels to more
modern Cajun and Zydeco songs, even occasionally throwing in a bluegrass fiddle tune or an old
string band number. He is also a prolific songwriter, writing almost all of his songs on his double row
Hohner accordion. Cedric’s songs channel his diverse ancestry (African, French, Native American and
Spanish) to create his own brand of sounds.
Cedric Watson is careful to acknowledge the full range of musical influences in the work. As he puts it, “We
don’t want to forget that one of the biggest contributions to our culture, music and heritage was made by
the Native Americans. I find that the old Zydeco rhythms sound like a mix of African and Native American
ceremonial rhythms.”
Cedric Watson
Daiquiri grew up in different parts of New Orleans,
studying at the New Orleans Center for Creative Arts
(NOCCA) and then the University of South Florida, where
they lived after Hurricane Katrina. They double majored in
gender studies and anthropology with a minor in religious
studies, and got involved with the slam poetry and music
scenes, playing first guitar, then banjo, and finally harp.
Fate seems to have played a crucial role in Daiquiri’s
development as an artist: they are tone-deaf, which
naturally led to spoken word instead of singing. Later, they
switched instruments after a musician friend couldn’t fit
their harp into the tour van and entrusted it to them. The
eldest of four, Daiquiri would make up stories to entertain
their younger siblings on long car trips and in the bedroom
they all shared together up until high school.
Poetry on the page is quite literally two-dimensional.
Performed on stage, a third axis adds a whole new
dimension to the same words; timbre of voice, rhythm and
timing, body language and visual style. Daiquiri’s
performances go even further, creating a four-dimensional
poetic space where text and music combine with
experimental theatre and improvisatory storytelling. Every
performance is a séance, a lucid dream we are invited
into, governed by chance and the whims of the
mystical artistic force which Federico García Lorca
called duende.
Daiquiri embodies the artist as seeker, always
surging forward and breaking new ground.
“I almost never repeat a story, it would get boring,” they said.
All those stories, existing only for whoever happened to be in the room, a fleeting
synthesis of memory and imagination that Daiquiri has zero attachment to—they’ll
make up new stories next week. “Sometimes it’s just an act of tortured joy when the
adrenaline hits before a performance and the ideas start talking to each other. A
physiological thing. I have to hypnotize myself into performing. I have to seduce
myself, in a way—and that’s when the piece has its own life.”
Daiquiri René Jones
New Orleans native Kid Chocolate picked
up the trumpet at the age of nine and has
toured the world playing music since the
age of 15. The protégé of great musicians
such as Clyde Kerr Jr., Sam Alcorn, Greg
Stafford, Leroy Jones, and many more,
Kid went on to become Dr. John’s
trumpeter. He has won a Latin Billboard
Award, two Grammy nominations
and one Grammy in 2010.
Kid comes from some humble
roots, and he came by his choice
of instrument in an unusual way.
“My mother took me to Maw
Maw and Pop’s house, and after
a little rummaging, we came up
with a clarinet and a cornet,” he says.
“My mother told me that whichever is the
cheapest to repair, that is the instrument you’ll
play.”
After Katrina, Kid Chocolate had a scare with Bell’s palsy, a form of facial paralysis. For someone who
makes a living playing a trumpet, it’s a terrifying condition. “I almost went crazy,” he says. “I woke up
one morning and couldn’t move the right side of my face.” He was agonized at canceling all his
upcoming performances, until he called his friend Irvin Mayfield, with whom he was supposed to go on
tour. “[Mayfield] said, ‘Well, I guess you’ll just be a singing, tambourine-playin’ mother—‘til you can play
your horn again.’” Mayfield’s kindness and the success of the tour carried him until he recovered.
He now leads a seven piece band of the finest young musicians in the city. Their music consists of original
music fusing all of Kid’s favorite musical elements coupled with his renditions of New Orleans
Jazz/Blues/R&B classics. This is the expression of Kid Chocolate’s understanding of Traditional New Orleans
Music.
He also enjoys the time spent working with students. “There’s nothing like when you’ve been explaining the
same thing over and over for weeks and weeks, and then, a student finally has that ‘a-ha’ moment. Now they’re
ready to show that they’ve really learned because true learning is when you begin to do what you know.”
Kid Chocolate
Big Queen Mary Kay Stevenson was only eight years old
when her mother, Big Queen Mercy (Mercedes
Stevenson), and two friends masked for the first time as
Baby Dolls (a popular Black Masking tradition in New
Orleans). “She and her friends thought they were cute”,
Mercedes recalled, “Everybody would say ‘Oh, here come
the Baby Dolls’.”
Three years later, Mercedes joined the gang of Chief Jolly
(George Landry), the founder of the Wild Tchoupitoulas
Black Masking Indians who would later record a
legendary eponymous album with the Neville Brothers,
Mr. Landry’s nephews. In 2015, just before she passed
away, Big Queen Mercy gave the gang to Big Chief John
Ellis and now Big Queen Mary Kay and the family
continue as the Original Wild Tchoupitoulas (OTW).
On St. Joseph’s Night at 45 Tchoup, the OTW’s
historical headquarters, this history is still alive. “You
know the Neville Brothers used to practice here with
us”, Queen Mary Kay tells us, “It was just like that,
everyone had to pick up an instrument, play
something.”
Singing along with Big Chief John Ellison, Baby Doll Tamara Stevenson, and Ambassador
Uncle Clyde Adams, Queen May Kay’s exultant declarations bind together past and present as
they stop at different porches in the neighborhood, where old acquaintances come out and
join the chanting.
For the Big Queen, it is an honor to carry on the traditions she remembers so clearly from
her own childhood. “I remember as a little girl,” she says, “there was this organization called
the Buzzards. Early Mardi Gras morning, we had to get ready for my mom but my grandma
would always allow us to watch them guys come out. They had these little baskets full of
flowers and they would kiss the women and give them flowers. And the whole while I’m
thinking ‘I hope I get a flower’. I could never get a flower! But I understood the uniqueness,
that it was their culture, their thing, and I’ve learned to understand that, in life, if you don’t
get your own thing and understand what you need to be doing, you gonna be totally lost. That
experience right there allowed me to appreciate being an Indian and appreciate those who
came before me, and did what they did to hold on to what we got.”
Queen Mary Kay
Arrangement:
Olivier Court Track 11
Sabertooth Swing:
Dan Ruch Trumpet, Vocals
Alex Canales Saxophones, Clarinet
Chris Butcher Trombone
Romain Beauxis Guitar
Spike Perkins Bass
Robert Montgomery Drums
Contributors:
Holly Devon Reading, track 1
Bruce Sunpie Barnes Accordion, track 2
Armando Leduc-Cruz Reading, tracks 3 & 17
Anna Laura Quinn Vocals, tracks 4 & 19
Seth Bailin Saxophone, tracks 2, 5, 7 & 14
Paul Chéenne Saxophone, track 5
Ryan Hanseler Piano, track 11
Cedric Watson Reading, track 12
Sam Dickey Guitar, Ngoni, tracks 12 & 18
Daiquiri René Jones Reading, Harp, track 13
Kid Chocolate Trumpet, Vocals, track 14
Original Compositions:
Gabriel Richards Tracks 3 & 6
Stephen Montalvo Track 4
Daiquiri René Jones Track 13
Jeremy Thomas Track 15
Chris Butcher Track 17
Sam Dickey Track 18
Artwork:
Henry Lipkis
Ben Myers Reading, track 6
Kalei Yamanoha Accordion, track 6
Sister Helen Prejean Reading, tracks 8 & 18
Jamie Lynn Fontenot
Vocals, track 9
Miriam McCracken Vocals, track 9
Zachary Richard Reading, track 10
Jeffery Broussard Accordion, Vocals, track 11
Jeremy Thomas Reading, track 15
Melony Jackson Vocals, track 15
Queen Mary Kay Vocals, track 17
Weedie Braimah Percussions, track 18
Production:
Romain Beauxis,
Chris Butcher &
Holly Devon
Engineered and mixed by:
Chris Butcher,
Butcher Studios, New Orleans
Mastered by:
Kevin Nix -
lnixmastering.com
1
Introduction
01:17
2
Delta Bound
05:18
3
De Soto Part 1
03:51
4
Le Dormeur Du Val
02:30
5
Sweet Lorna
03:17
6
What About This
01:58
7
Send Me To The ‘Lectric Chair
04:12
8
Letter to John Paul II
04:11
9
La Chanson de Mardi Gras
02:01
10
Joie de Vivre
02:34
11
I’m On The Wonder
06:07
12
St. Malo
02:23
13
Primer
03:24
14
Buddy Bolden’s Blues
03:07
15
Free Day
04:14
16
St. Joseph Night
02:18
17
De Soto Part 2
03:08
18
We’re A Very Young Country
03:18
19
Nuages
04:40