A Small Blog
Looking at Life in Small Pieces
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Written by Jack Reid
I may be that the first recording of ‘Zodico’ music was by Texas musician Lightnin’ Hopkins, but the geographic center of the zydeco world is in the Parishes of Southwest Louisiana. The Creole heritate of accordion driven dance music is undeniable and there are any number of scholarly treatises on the origins, social implications, and cultural impacts of the world of zydeco. I will concentrate on my experiences visiting that world and its impact on my musical tastes and world view.
The very first band to play at Antone’s Club when it opened on Sixth Street in Austin was Clifton Chenier. Chenier had already devastated the crowd at Soap Creek earlier and Clifton’s Brother Cleveland, the frottoir player and fully blown minds by demonstrating he could lift an oak table off the floor—with his teeth! Yes, Austin’s Home of the Blues began with the King of Zydeco. This is the takeoff point for my exploration. The pure elasticity of and ability to incorporate multiple sources into the music form is integration: appropriation and assimilation. Clifton’s song “Zydeco Sont Pas Salés” is a commonly pointed to as the beginnings of the word Zydeco. “the snap beans aren’t salty” Creole French pronunciation sounds like the word zydeco.
BooZoo at Dog Hill I subsequently saw Clifton, Buckwheat Zydeco, and a few others at clubs and street fairs in Austin. These sparked my interest enough that I ventured into the homeland with an adventurous girlfriend and some like-minded compatriots. We drove deep into the swampy parishes, through rice fields and crawfish farms to roadhouses like Slim’s Y Ki Ki and Richards to be in the element of zydeco. We went to Dog Hill, the home of Boo Zoo Chavis, who recorded an English language version of “Paper in My Shoe” and had a regional hit for the Goldband label licensed by Imperial in the 50s. We went to a trail ride where the music was punctuated with the aroma of barbequed pig tails and fried hog skin or gatton.
Beau Jocque at Richards At the time we attended the Southwest Louisiana Zydeco Festival near Opelousas, LA, the biggest acts were Boo Zoo, Nathan and the Zydeco Cha Chas, and Beau Jocque. Break out younger acts were Step Rideau and Keith Frank. Whereas Clifton Chenier played a piano accordion everyone else played diatonic or button style accordions. Rhythm/percussion instrument, a rubboard played with bent spoons called the frottoir. The first few years, all the songs and stage announcements were in Creole French. As the crowd grew with more tourist, English became dominant.
Keith Frank at a Trail Ride stage The dancers of that region had a specific style when on the floor. Da-Da-Da-Stomp, Da-Da-Da-Stomp! In a cartoonish vision, I saw the outside edges of the wooden club jump up with each stomp as my beer glass ‘walked’ across the table.
Long Live the Zydeco Stomp!
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“Age changes you in ways you least expect” I heard this quote in a movie last week, but can’t remember which one. I thought about it off and on for a few days with the conclusion that this is most certainly a true statement.
Sitting outside a coffee shop, reading Patti Smith’s book “My Train,” I became filled with a thoughtfulness regarding my life. Feeling like a cheap imitation of Smith, I start writing on a scrap piece of paper thoughts for a post.
I’ve always been aware of Patti Smith because of her music. Often called the “punk poet laureate,” Smith has an impressive musical repertoire which still influences many.
After reading “Just Kids” a few years ago, I became a huge fan of her literary mind as well. I am at the same time appreciative and envious of her experiences and courage to travel her many creative paths—all while keeping in mind the difficulties of her life which arrived uninvited.
From my 2013 Twitter: I wonder what compels me to constantly try to do things out of my comfort zone?
Was I courageous in the paths I took in my life? Did I travel to places I always wanted to see? Did I follow a risky decision to some sort of personal transcendent conclusion? Can I still call myself a life-long learner? Am I still willing to explore new things out of my comfort zone? Yes and No.
Yes. In the summer of 2018 the hubby and I took a 5K mile road trip—in our Ford Fiesta–up to Minnesota, down to Nebraska over to Colorado and across to New Mexico—stopping on the way to see family and friends. No. I vow never to do this again.
Yes. I still read fiction and non-fiction. I recently discovered Wired magazine which I admit to some of it being over my head, but I’m learning. No. I don’t finish books that don’t grab me in the first chapter or two.
Mom and me. She had me reading at a very young age. My mother used to say ‘only boring people get bored.’ Though I often say to others I have no regrets in this life, I occasionally lament some of my mistakes. But my life was not and is not boring. May your life be the same.
Yes, I out of my comfort zone riding the tram in Telluride. 
A younger me with my son who I raised as a single mother. -
One of my favorite lines is “if you remember the 60’s (or 70’s) you weren’t really there.” Well it seems plenty of us were really there and are remembering the Armadillo World Headquarters–that venerable music venue in Austin, Texas which was THE place to hear live music from 1970 through the early 1980’s.
Having been pointed in the direction of the ‘I Remember the Armadillo’ Facebook page by my brother Jack, I became an immediate fan. I proceeded to spend way too much time reading the posted memories, checking out the list of bands and dates they played, and creating my own nostalgic musing. Since my downstairs neighbors worked at the Armadillo, and would put me on the ‘list,” it seemed I was there every time the doors opened.
Just about every band or musician you ever heard of and, some you hadn’t, played at the ‘Dillo. Always the best audience, we gave a standing ovation for everyone—Ravi Shankar to Jerry Lee Lewis, Commander Cody to Frank Zappa, Freddy King to Boz Scaggs, and the list goes on. The Armadillo embodied everything about that era in Austin, the music, the camaraderie, the wafts of smoke (you know what I mean). But, it was definitely, first and foremost about the music for me.
So this weekend, I grooved to some of my old LPs, did a little dance and felt the love.
Listen to some good music this week.
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A Small Blog 