NELA Strong

Local musicians have banded together, keeping their art form alive using social media outlets. Screen-to-screen, they have been filling living rooms, kitchens, and backyards with the music of our hearts.

ARTICLE BY VANELIS RIVERA

For those of us locked in, slowing down has also meant paying attention. For better or worse, the threat of contagion and the fear that arrives with uncertainty has driven us inward. Many have been examining values, past routines, and spirit. Life has forced us to stop and stare at ourselves, our family and friends, our neighbors, and our community. While turning to faith has always been a balm to our worries, there are other salves that can further aid us in this unprecedented time. Now, more than ever, we must focus on what speaks to our soul, and, perhaps, also what sings to it.

“Without hard times and trouble, we probably wouldn’t have modern American music as it is,” says Ira Barger, local blues and folk singer/songwriter who developed the ongoing NELA Couch Concert Series. Barger, who lost three gigs in one day during the first week that bars and venues began cancelling gigs, began thinking of his peers, some whose only source of income comes from performing live. Full-time musicians usually book venues three to four days a week. Unless they also teach music on the side, the last weeks have been hustle after hustle of having to recoup those losses. Barger’s idea to help his fellow musicians came from Couch Tour, a phenomenon grown from the jam-band scene, where a private music event or a live concert is streamed live. As he began sharing his vision with peers, Barger quickly found that the undertaking would be greater than originally anticipated. He turned to established local musician Josh Madden, whose invaluable experience organizing music events like the Dylan Jam, John Lennon Birthday Celebration, and Woodstock: A Tribute, allowed the couch series to run on a sustainable model.

“Here are our key words: virtual venue. That’s what we’re trying to be,” says Madden, who strives to undertake music live streams with a sense of normalcy. “If you approach something in a way that you’re used to, it’s not such a culture shock.” Not unlike a music venue, the NELA Couch Concert Series welcomes musicians to contact them and shoot them a demo for a performance spot. Like most clubs would do, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday night slots are being filled by mostly up-and-coming musicians, but everyone is currently getting paid the same, though they prioritize full-time musicians by providing them longer sets or regular weekly spots. “Anyone that contacts us that has experience playing live for an audience, we are finding a slot to put them in,” Madden says. Thus far, they’ve been able to fill each day of the week with one to three hours of music. Those judgement calls are made on a weekly basis, and depend entirely on their donation pool. “We do intend to keep doing this after the social distancing period is over,” says Barger, revealing their plans to move the organization into nonprofit territory.

Another virtual music outlet with a similar donation-based setup to the couch series, is Locked Up Live with Monty Russell and Friends.“I’ve been at this for a long time,” says Russell, a 40-year veteran entertainer. “I know how the musicians feel.” Russell not only experienced the financial crisis of 2008, but also the social shift that occurred after the September 11th attacks. “There was a whole new model in 2001. There was a period of time when nobody wanted to play anywhere of any size or travel anywhere. It took months to recover from that.” Though not as “drastic” as the current COVID-19 shutdown, it’s not the first time musicians have had to revamp their profession based on socio-economic turns. “When you play for a living, you always have to adjust your model because people coming out to see live music kinda goes up and down. It’s like any other business,” he says.

Russell’s current adjustment emerged from a chance encounter with Jay Howell, owner of Cotton, Planter’s Gastropub, and The Eli. Having played at his venues before, Howell was naturally concerned with how Russell had been handling the turn of events. Before the outbreak, Russell had a jam-packed week of gigs spread across a few cities including New Orleans, Baton Rouge, and Austin for SXSW. “Right now, I’m just trying to find a new model,” he told Howell, who called him back about playing at The Eli. The focus of Locked Up Live is to pay musicians as if they were playing a gig at The Eli. Musicians who utilize the venue have professional audio and video equipment at their disposal, as well as the visually captivating main lounge room. Keeping mindful of the social distancing guidelines, the team makes sure the only person in the room is the performer. “It’s pretty amazing the ability for us to get on Facebook and broadcast like that,” reveals Russell, who, though a seasoned performer, would get nervous when a fan would open Facebook Live in any of his shows. “Now, I gotta really play well,” he laughs. Russell, who hadn’t always had the chance to see his counterparts play, notes that an added advantage of music live streams is being able to tune in as a musician and listen to what his colleagues have been working on.”

So far, live streaming has been going well for many musicians, whether they’re using affiliates or going solo on their own pages, but playing without an audience is a lonely experience. Like many musicians, Heath Work from the ‘90s alternative rock cover band Hidden Tracks, couldn’t help but think of the local venues he frequented with his band. “You know who this really affects is the workers at the music venues, because the nights that they have bands are some of their best nights for tips,” says Work. Acting on his concern, Work decided to create the Band Together fundraiser with the intention of taking care of the people that have taken care of them. “All these people and all these venues are like friends and family to me,” says Work, reminiscing about meeting his wife at Sal’s Saloon. Clearly, as has become painfully apparent while confined to our homes, live music venues don’t just impact our community economically, but also socially.

In addition to the fundraiser, Work, wanting to use music to raise awareness and garner attention for the cause, scheduled a live stream concert for the first week of April featuring performances by Lowside Drive, Swamp Grass, The Cypress Knees, Echo Thieves, Josh Love, and, of course, Hidden Tracks. Unfortunately, some unexpected interruptions halted the planned live stream, one of which was lead singer of Echo Thieves having to opt out of a group performance due to her high risk of exposure as a nurse. Wanting to do the event justice, Work has plans to reschedule, particularly to show gratitude for all the patrons of live music who have generously donated. As of April 11th, $6,217 has been raised for the employees of venues with a history of regularly hosting live music such as Live Oaks, Tin Dog Tavern, Enoch’s Irish Pub & Cafe, Brass Monkey, Peppers Bar & Grill, and Sal’s Saloon. A second fundraiser is in the works, considering the possibility of Louisiana Governor John Bel Edwards extending the Stay at Home Order through May. As an art teacher, Work is no stranger to the power of creativity and music in times that call for deep reflection. It’s important to him that we pay attention to what impacts us individually and socially, and in so doing, find the urgency to preserve it.

It may seem like we’re in the rubble, living in the figurative trenches, but while some wallow, others create, like Ruston-based singer/songwriter Jade Reynolds. On March 26th, she posted a video of an original song on her personal Facebook page. Before singing, she began with: “I am legitimately scared and I think that you gain moments of perspective and clarity in times like this.” The song titled “Look for the Helpers” began its gestation period when Reynolds accidentally broke her 1962 Harmony acoustic guitar. When she posted a “rest in peace” post on Facebook, she didn’t think much of it, but in a matter of days, people were making suggestions on repairs and offering to help with payment. “I was really floored by that reaction,” she says. Having moved back to the south from Missouri, she’s been in awe at the strong and constant sense of community around her: “It’s nothing but people helping all the time.”

A guitar collector she knew in passing reached out to her and told her to take her pick of his batch of fifty-plus guitars, and play it for as long as she needed. By this time, many were quarantining, so she met him at his home with Lysol, offering to wipe anything she touched because he is immuno-compromised. Still, even under those circumstances, he welcomed her. Arriving home with a new guitar, she thought about her community paralyzed by the pandemic, the people who haven’t ceased to show up, and the goodwill she had received, such as her boss paying her an extra day when businesses began to close. “All of this kindness and all of this compassion and goodness is what is going to get everybody through,” she remembers thinking as she looked at the little parlor guitar she was holding, a symbol of all of the generosity. “I’m not in a position yet, to be able to give back on the level that people have been able to help me so far,” she says, but the one thing she can offer, as she always says, is to write an original song or cook some good food.

When she decided to write her “love letter” to the community, she kept coming back to Mr. Rogers’ quote, “Look for the helpers,” probably because, at the time, she was living it. Before composing the lyrics, Reynolds said a prayer asking God to give her some “comforting words.” Those words were on the page before she really even thought about what she was writing: “2 AM, I can’t even sleep / World is changing, no place for the mild and the meek / I cry out to you, God / In times like this it feels / We’re a million miles apart.” The chorus counters those sentiments with the uplifting message that faith can be found wherever you see “those doing more than just their part.” For the first time as a songwriter, she wrote lyrics without an accompanying tune, which is easy to do when you’re paying it forward by writing words from the heart.

The phrase “support local music” gets repeated often, especially because most full-time musicians live hand-to-mouth. “It’s easy to say that when times are good,” says Barger, “but it won’t be long before these folks start to sell instruments to make ends meet.” Right now, supporting local musicians takes the form of weekly donations, tuning in to live streams, sharing and liking posts, and/or following musicians on social media. It’s an optimal time to connect to artists and their craft on a level unexplored before now. “Before, you didn’t have the time to sit down and just focus on the power of the song, the power of the performance, the truth in what people were singing,” says Madden. At one point or the other, we’ve all taken music for granted. We’ve allowed it to become white noise, background music, something to put on rotation. Like many other parts of our lives, we now have the opportunity to re-engage, to hold close what lifts us up.

You can support local musicians by visiting the Facebook page of NELA Couch Concert Series, The Eli at Restaurant Cotton, and Hidden Tracks.