Week in Review – October 19th, 2025

“True Companion”

Monday started with a walk in the park. We both talked to our financial advisor during our walk – Diana being sure to let him know she was ahead of me. He was calling to commiserate on our legal bill for estate planning and the like – the price remains the same.

I got a few interesting pictures on Tuesday. Will and Christine’s professional pictures from the Eiffel tower:

And these three rock stars that are making my retirement savings blossom:

$4/share when I joined to $19 shortly after I left – I’m sure that’s all my hard work…

Those guys are in Roatan, Honduras at the annual recognition event that Diana and I loved the last two years – some things you miss out on in retirement – particularly spending time with those three daily.

While we’re on non-weekly activity based content, I learned that a “Nickelodeon” was originally a jukebox that took a nickel to play a song – that’s where the TV channel came from. I did not know that.

Continuing in that vein -a funny that Diana got from Ken – “if a con is the opposite of a pro, does that mean that congress is the opposite of progress” – most definitely!

We, and particularly I, had a pretty poor showing at trivia on Tuesday. Even worse given that it was Thom’s birthday. The only highlight was the cannoli’s that Thom brought form Brocato’s – perfect little nibbles. We had a table based trivia question – what movie has the line, “Leave the gun, take the cannoli”? I guessed Pulp Fiction, everyone else got it right – Godfather part I.

“Leave the gun, take the cannoli” is a famous line from the movie The Godfather. It was delivered by the character Peter Clemenza after his associate Rocco kills a traitor and it was an improvised line by actor Richard Castellano, who added it after his wife suggested it to him.”

Here was the final question. We bet the maximum and got it wrong by a long shot. I think we bet 49 as the answer, you get 5 points either way from the correct answer of 25 and we somehow arrived at 49.

The “Number of seasons in the original Star Trek” did get a funny story out of McD. After she guessed the answer correctly, she told me her favourite episode was “Trouble with Tribbles.” And went on to describe how cute the “tribbles” really were:

We flew to Kansas City on Wednesday, ahead of the Marc Cohn and Shawn Colvin concert on Thursday night. Marc has Parkinson’s disease and we wanted to see him one final time.

Wednesday night diner was at the Antler Room. My search for “best restaurants in downtown Kansas City” had this one on it – and I almost skipped by, envisioning a trophy animal head type of establishment. Thankfully I gave it a second look. The shared plate menu was amazing, located in a house in a historical neighborhood.

Diana looked at the small menu and said, “I’ll eat anything on this list.” That lets me know it’s an amazing selection. And it was. We started with cauliflower, then carrots, then radiatori pasta with crab, and finally amazing mushroom things. Everything was so good. When I got to the concert on Thursday night, the guy next to me, the lead architect on the renovation of the Folly theater, said it was his favourite KC restaurant. The cauliflower (reminds me of the amazing place in Bend, Oregon when Finn was there):

Carrots can be so wonderful:

And finally the crab pasta (I didn’t capture the wonderful mushroom pockets):

If you find yourself in KC, skip the steak houses and BBQ joints and go here.

After all that, we had made a reservation at 1587 Prime for 10pm. This is Patrick Mahomes (KC Chiefs quarterback #15) and Travis Kelce (KC Chiefs tight end and Taylor Swift fiancée #87) new place. It opened a few months ago and folks in town told us it takes months to get reservations.

There was a party going on in this place. I couldn’t believe it was full at 10pm – and it was. They were playing great music at a good volume, but it was still easy to have a conversation at the table – some amazing acoustic planning. We were going to have a drink and the steak tartare. Our server talked us into the carpaccio instead – good call – the steak, truffles and mushrooms were amazing. The tuna tartare, served with some fancy foam, was also delicious.

1587 was way over the top, and the service was perfect – casual, relaxed, kind and knowledgeable – very hard to teach. I was impressed by the environment and the wait staff.

I started Thursday with a swim in the 22nd floor lap pool (nice feature that clearly pre-dated the Marriott acquisition – they wouldn’t spend the money for a lap pool.) After that we walked to Homegrown for brunch. It’s weird how quiet downtown KC is during the day – no cars on the streets, parking lots empty, restaurants quiet – where is everybody? Brunch was good but nothing exceptional.

The concert arrived on Thursday night – a solid hundred yards from our hotel.

The Folly theater was gorgeous. I was asking the usher about the new seats. He told me they widened them, taking out one per row, about 20 years ago. The guy sitting next to me turned out to be the lead architect for the renovation – he had to negotiate the acoustic damping discs versus the group who wanted to retain the details of the ceiling. I don’t know how it sounded before, but after it’s excellent. The discs are similar, but much smaller than those in the Royal Albert Hall.

And then there was the concert. I think I said before that Marc Cohn has Parkinson’s disease and this may be his last tour. We knew this, but were not prepared for the vision of him walking out so frailly and relying on Shawn Colvin for his balance. The first song just floored us:

He may be “tougher than the rest” indeed. That’s a setlist from a couple of days before and pretty close to what we heard.

Marc started his solo set with 29 Ways, a Willie Dixon cover, and a great example of his wonderful backup pianist:

Shawn Colvin took over for a bit to give Marc a break:

Marc came back for his two famous songs, first “True Companion”, our wedding song (I smile every time I hear “my arms are open wide” and remember our choreography):

And then, “Walking in Memphis” – “Ma’am I am Tonight”:

The concert finished with a cover of Van’s “Into the Mystic”, morphing into all his other well known songs. What a poignant event – a great musician sidelined by a horrible disease – particularly for someone who relies on the steadiness of his fingers for his livelihood..

How about this song leading up to the encore. Geez:

We walked to the “River District” on Friday morning for brunch at the Farmhouse. This was a yummy farm to table spot that had some interesting mushrooms for their omelets. Diana chose to explore the river area while I walked back to the hotel. She accidentally found a large homeless encampment and then explored the rest of the river area. We had commented earlier in the week that there were so few people living on the streets, and Diana found out where they congregated.

Here’s some quick research on the history of Kansas City, which appears to be modern and booming city:

History of Kansas City

Other than some traffic leaving the airport for our drive home, this was a smooth trip for a last concert from Cohn.

We watched the “Diplomat’ TV series on Friday night – so well written and acted.

We enjoyed the show with a “Smoky Blue Rogue Creamery” cheese – wonderful! The best cheese that I’ve tasted in a long time.

I watched LSU lose on Saturday morning in college football – such an underperforming team. Alabama did win for the Ogan contingent visiting for homecoming weekend. UT did eke out a win over Kentucky – a late birthday present for Thom, albeit barely a win.

My main book this week was “Blood, Bones and Butter” by Gabrielle Hamilton. Anthony Bourdain advertised this as his favourite chef book – I loved it all around.

Speaking of a friend’s kitchen:

“Her kitchen, over thirty years ago, long before it was common, had a two-bin stainless steel restaurant sink and a six-burner Garland stove. Her burnt orange Le Creuset pots and casseroles, scuffed and blackened, were constantly at work on the back three burners cooking things with tails, claws, and marrow-filled bones—whatever was budgeted from our dad’s sporadic and mercurial artist’s income—that she was stewing and braising and simmering to feed our family of seven. Our kitchen table was a big round piece of butcher block where we both ate and prepared casual meals.”

Orange Le Creuset pots always make me remember the taste of my Mum’s wonderful Boeuf a la Bourguignon.

I enjoyed this “speaking on the inhale” passage:

“but Hilda’s jowls jiggled with every “oui, oui, oui,” that she offered—in that way that the French have of speaking on inhaling rather than on the exhale, “whey, whey whey”—in apparent commiseration with everything Jean or my mother uttered.”

The New Yorker cartoon entertained me – I find those very funny sometimes too, other times I just shrug:

“while inside our mother would whistle along with the classical music station, stir pots of fragrant stews, and repose in her chair, howling out loud, a New Yorker open on her lap and a particular cartoon cutting her in half.”

How better to describe this brunch than a fallen Victorian woman with her skirts:

“I made stacks and stacks of those chimichanga bowls by dropping the flour tortilla into the deep fryer, where it would float and sizzle on the surface for a moment like a lily pad on a pond. Then, with a deep ten-ounce ladle, I pushed down in the center, and the tortilla came up around the bowl like the long dress and underskirts of a Victorian woman who had fallen, fully clothed, into a lake, her skirts billowing up around her heavy sinking body.”

On cooking for kids as an accomplished chef:

“This was the last meal I could prepare that still had adult appeal to it, because the next morning, the four-foot-tall “nothing green, nothing spicy, nothing healthy, nothing dark, nothing but nuggets” crumb snatchers arrived and for the rest of the summer we cooked little more than plain spaghetti and plain chicken.

It’s hard to cook for kids, and when something doesn’t appeal to them, instead of saying a polite no thank you, they instead break into a giant yuk face and shriek “eewww” right in front of you, as if you had no feelings at all. There were moments that summer when I felt more distressed by a nine-year-old’s disgust with a fleck of basil in his tomato sauce than I had in the entire previous decade when ostensibly more serious failures had occurred.”

Of being identified as a member of the cooking class:

“Every single time that I sit at a restaurant’s bar, order the txacoli or grüner veltliner rather than the sauvignon blanc, ask for the razor clams and not the calamari, I am sniffed out immediately by the server as an industry peer. Having said nothing. “Who are you?” I finally asked, having picked up every single one of his gang signs. “I’m Mark. Mark Bittman.” The father of Emma turned out to be Mark Bittman, the cookbook writer and New York Times columnist. Of course she loved balsamic vinegar and Parmesan cheese and fresh ground black pepper.”

Going to college in later years, knowing how to cook:

“In the world I had occupied before coming to this campus, I was the one with the words. In those kitchens filled with transient part-timers, it was an obvious testament to my potential for high intelligence that I completed the crossword puzzle each day of the week, including Sunday, in pen. That I could remember and recite a few stanzas of Chaucer. In this new world, where twenty-three-year-olds discussed Barthesian tropes and post-Hegelian moments with the same ease with which I boiled water for pasta, I smarted with the realization of my own amateurism.”

This made me think of the delight of Commander’s Palace and all the waiters for a table lifting the domes at the same time:

“and Russian Imperial Service, in which the entire dining room is surrounded suddenly by two hundred fifty waiters—exactly one waiter per guest, each bearing one silver-domed plate—and at the signal of the captain, all two hundred fifty waiters step forward, in stunning synchronicity lift the domes”

On starting her first restaurant:

“My resolve to start a new kitchen-free life was further weakening in the direct warmth of Misty’s home style of cooking, her bumpy, misshapen tomatoes ripening on the back steps, her cabbages shredded and broken down with salt and vinegar, her hunks of pork swimming in smoky, deep, earthy juices. Unwittingly, she was untethering me from my ten-pound knife kit, propane torches, and ring molds and showing me that what I had been doing these past twenty years—and what I had come to think of as cooking—was just the impressive fourteen-ring string of a twelve-year-old exhaling her first lungfuls of a Marlboro. Nothing more than the tricks of the trade. She was waking me, in her nearly monosyllabic way, out of a dark and decades-long amnesia. But then, without telling me and worse, without taking me, Misty worked her last day at the catering company and went across town to pursue an opportunity to open a restaurant. Misty, without letting on in the slightest, was in the early stages of opening a restaurant across town, with her brother as co-chef, and because she would never behave in such poor form as to poach cooks from the catering company, she did not offer jobs to anyone there. She just left. Her spot across from me at the prep island remained empty as we continued to cook the old familiar menus on autopilot.”

More about starting that place:

“I WAS NOT LOOKING TO OPEN A RESTAURANT. THAT WAS NEVER ON MY mind. I was just dashing out to park the car one spring morning, when I ran into my neighbor Eric, a guy I knew only peripherally from years of living on the same block. I didn’t even know his last name, but we often saw each other during that hectic morning ritual of alternate side parking that New Yorkers, or at least East Villagers, seem to barely accomplish in time to beat the meter maid. It’s a twice a week early morning ritual, Mondays and Thursdays or Tuesdays and Fridays, depending on which side of the street you’re on, in which everyone on the block with a car comes rushing out of their building to move their machines, still wearing their pajamas and with pillow creases still marking their faces. Eric was sitting on the stoop in front of a long-shuttered restaurant space mid-block, and as I zoomed by in my sweatpants and hastily”

On the regular annual trips to the house of the in-laws:

“There before us sat a Pompeiian villa, with a large room smack in the center of the house that has no ceiling. It’s called an impluvium, meaning where the rain is gathered, and I have often noticed that my son Marco.

A woman arrived on her motorino, a bicycle with a small motor the size of a hairdryer you have to pedal to ignite, and pulled from the handlebar’s basket giuncata and mozzarella cheese, still

warm, that she had made herself using seawater, though no one could explain if this was from a parsimony—too poor to buy salt—or an aesthetic impulse to create the perfect balance of salination in the cheese using water”

On an annoying husband who doesn’t get it:

When he said he was thinking about the new iPhone, in spite of having a rather new iPhone right now this very moment already in his pocket, I dissolved irrevocably. I lost the first fifteen days of my vacation with that iPhone comment. I lost my vacation to a seething, hot black rage that crawled up the back of my neck and covered my head and nose and mouth until I was suffocated by it and could barely breathe and certainly could not speak or make eye contact. It’s true; I tend to run a little hot.”

D’Angelo passed away this week in his fifties. I don’t know his music well, but one of my local heroes, Jon Cleary, appears to:

Remembering D’Angelo

From a bus in Florianopolis to an audience with the King from Indianola

It’s 1995 and I’m riding 12 hours on a bus in Brazil, an uncomfortable, bouncy, long, overnight journey on bad roads from Sao Paolo to a coastal town called Florianópolis, many miles distant. Buried somewhere in my bag is a tape that had arrived the week before in my New Orleans mailbox. It was from a friend in the UK. ‘Listen to this’ said the handwritten scrawl on the cover. So, as the long night stretched ahead and the ceaseless panorama of dreary Brazilian jungle paraded past the bus window, I dug out the cassette, glanced at the picture on the cover of someone I’d never heard of, put the headphones on and pressed play.

I knew nothing about D’Angelo, had never heard of him. I was prepared to be underwhelmed; the name seemed pretentious – something a major label exec. would have come up with. Over the next ten or eleven hours, I listened and nodded off and woke, the music still playing, and listened and glanced at the blackness through the window and listened some more and flipped the tape over again and fell back asleep. My curiosity grew as my discomfort and fatigue deepened. And while I dozed, woke and slept, the music filled my head and my imagination, and I think it’s true to say that the contents of my skull have not been quite the same since.

It was a game changer and an epiphany. The more I heard, the more it seemed to me that the music I was hearing on this cassette tape was the missing link: the connection between music of the future, as yet unborn, and the rhythm and blues and soul of two decades past, the world of Curtis Mayfield, Johnny ‘Guitar’ Watson and Donny Hathaway; that linear evolution that had been side-lined into oblivion by ‘crossover’, major label distribution and the ‘four on the floor’ Disco of the mid ‘70s.

In the mid nineties there was no internet yet, no googling, well at least there wasn’t for me, not in my neck of New Orleans in South Louisiana. No information, no way of finding out who was actually hands on, playing the musical instruments on this record. What was D’Angelo? Who was D’Angelo? I didn’t know but it seemed obvious that that voice was connected to those fingers on the keys, one mind at work, one brain and that there was genius there.

It’s 1996 and I’ve just arrived at John Porter’s house in Los Angeles from the airport. John, stirring a freshly brewed cup of tea, says excitedly, “I’ve been asked to produce a B.B. King record for MCA, an album of duets. Help me make up a list, the record company’s sent me the names of who they want and it’s the same people they always suggest: Willie Nelson, Carlos Santana, Van Morrison, Eric Clapton…”

So we put their list on one side and came up with another hipper list on the other and I asked him, ’Have you heard of this guy D’Angelo? No-one really knows him, but he’s amazing. We should definitely get this guy, he’d be perfect’. He hadn’t, and really at that point, neither had anyone else. ’No’, he said, “sadly, the problem is the label won’t go for it’. It’s typical, they only want big famous names that’ll guarantee record sales”.

It’s 1997 and I’m in New York, at the recording studio for the first day of tracking. I’d arrived with John before everyone else showed up and I was at the piano, checking it out, getting the morning’s cobwebs pout of my fingers. John Porter came from the control room, stuck his head round the door with a slightly mischievous smile on his face and said,”Oh, By the way, I forgot to tell you, guess who’s coming in today? D’Angelo”. I couldn’t believe it. I’d been listening to nothing but Johnny Watson and D’Angelo for the last six months.

Minutes later D’Angelo walked in to the room, empty but for me and the mics and the instruments. He walked over to the piano, I stood and we shook hands, he said hello, smiled a shy smile, seemingly a little embarrassed to have interrupted my piano noodling. He sat behind the B3 organ and we played, grooving for about ten minutes, just the two of us in the room. Hearing those first few notes, I knew that I’d been right, that it was indeed him playing keys on the Brown Sugar record, it was one person’s brain behind all that music, music that had been spinning around and bouncing off the walls of my brain since that long bus ride in Brazil – confirmation that he was everything I suspected and more – and we hit it off.

We fooled around on the instruments and chatted and he asked me if I dug Thelonious Monk, I said I did, I really did. He said he’d only recently got hip to him and then proceeded to casually trot out some ridiculously cool Monk licks that blew my mind. That’s when I knew that not only could this guy really, really play, but that that he had something different. He was possessed of genius, the real thing. In a world where that word has been bandied about and whose currency has been so devalued, he was a genius, the real deal. And I knew even then that this was one of the few times in my life I was likely to be in the same room as that much talent.

The session got underway. The musicians filed in introducing themselves, taking their places, twiddling controls and getting sounds, drinking coffee, telling jokes. John Porter and Joe the engineer came in to make some mic adjustments. ‘What are we doing?’ I asked. John said, “Dunno yet. The song B.B. wants to to cut is ‘Ain’t Nobody Home’ by Jerry Ragavoy. But first we should just play something for everyone to warm up and get some sounds. D. just said he wants to play some Johnny ‘Guitar’ Watson”.

B.B. was a delight to play music with, an absolute monster gentleman. And the rhythm section was killing too: Hugh McCracken, Steve Jordan, Leon Pendarvis and bassist Pino Palladino who had flown in from London, an old acquaintance of mine through a mutual friend, alto player, Mike Paice.

D’Angelo started singing ’Superman Lover’. The musicians fell in, one by one, and the combined instruments locked into a natural groove, everyone gracefully re-calibrating to D.’s unique sense of time as the unit, playing together for the first time, morphed into a well-oiled machine. His unique vocal phrasing, his timing and the way he approached the keyboard smothered extra layers of grease on the gears. For about twenty minutes we jammed, the band fine-tuned now like a cross between a Rolls-Royce and a ‘73 Cadillac Eldorado while the engineers made all the adjustments. We got to the end and I said fuck, that was incredible, let’s cut it. ‘Oh no,’ D. said, ‘I didn’t want to record it, I just felt like playing it!’

We got back to work, and If I remember correctly we cut ‘Ain’t Nobody Home’ in one take. We filed into the control room to listen back and everyone was pleased with what we’d got, ready to move on to the next guest artist and the next tune. I think it’s fair to say that at that time I was perhaps the only one in the room that had really familiar with D’Angelo’s music and knew that one of the things that made him so special was the way he sang his own background vocals. I suggested to D. who was sitting next to me, talking on the phone, that before he left he should stack up some falsetto harmonies on the chorus hook. He seemed pleased that someone had suggested it, almost too shy to have suggested it himself. I had a quick word in John’s ear and D. went back to the vocal mic and laid one part on top of another, quickly, effortlessly, flawlessly and brilliantly. And the song was complete. All that was left to do was to record Wardell Quezergue’s horn arrangement, a separate session that happened a few months later in New Orleans when John was in town working making a record with me at the Boiler Room studio.

D’Angelo was happy and had obviously enjoyed the morning’s work. I don’t think he’d ever done a session quite like this before, a little overawed to be in a New York studio recording with this calibre of session players, and for a legend like B.B. King, no less. He took a few selfies with B.B, introduced me to his friend, Amir, who had a great afro and his girlfriend, Angie, who was holding their new baby.

He was unhappy though with the phone conversation. It had been from his bass player, who had called to cancel – stranding D. at short notice without a bass player for an important gig. An idea had occurred to him though – a long shot. He’d been impressed by Pino’s masterful bass playing and before leaving asked him if there was any chance he might be able to change his plans and fill in.

The rest, as they say, is history.

Here’s the song:

I know – not that exciting after all of that.

Here are some more exciting things, the songs that Mark Cohn and Shawn Colvin covered:

Coexist peacefully, with patience and kindness for all.

Kansas City – Historical Overview

We visited Kansas City from 10/15/25 to 10/17/25 to see Marc Cohn in concert at the Folly theater. Here’s some history on the city:

The history of Kansas City began with French fur traders in the early 1800s and was later shaped by westward expansion, the Civil War, the railroad industry, and the rise of jazz music.

Early settlement and naming:

French trade: In 1821, French trader François Chouteau set up a permanent fur-trading post near the confluence of the Kansas and Missouri rivers.
Founding: In 1838, a group of investors purchased land near the trading post and established the “Town of Kansas,” named after the Kansa (Kaw) Native American tribe. The nearby settlement of Westport, established by John McCoy, served as a vital stopping point for pioneers heading west on the Oregon, Santa Fe, and California trails.
Incorporation and renaming: The town was incorporated as the “City of Kansas” in 1853 and later officially renamed “Kansas City” in 1889 to avoid confusion with the Kansas Territory.

Civil War and westward expansion:

“Bleeding Kansas”: Kansas City’s location on the border between the slave state of Missouri and the free Kansas Territory made it a focal point of conflict over slavery in the 1850s.
Battle of Westport: In 1864, the Battle of Westport became the last major Civil War battle west of the Mississippi River, with a decisive Union victory.
Railroad hub: The city’s growth exploded after the Civil War. The opening of the Hannibal Bridge in 1869, the first bridge to span the Missouri River, solidified Kansas City as a major transportation hub.

Industrial growth and jazz culture:

Livestock industry: In 1870, the

Kansas City Stockyards were established, making the city a leading center for the cattle trade and meatpacking.
Political machine: The city’s development in the early 20th century was largely influenced by the political machine of Tom Pendergast, who supported public works and influenced the career of Harry S. Truman.
Jazz era: During the 1920s and 30s, Kansas City gained a reputation for its vibrant jazz scene, with musicians like Count Basie and Lester Young shaping the city’s unique musical style. Pendergast’s influence during Prohibition allowed speakeasies and clubs to flourish, fueling the lively nightlife.

Modern era:

Urban development: Downtown Kansas City has undergone significant redevelopment in the 21st century, with major projects including the

Power & Light District, the T-Mobile Center, and the Kauffman Center for the Performing Arts
Transportation: Modern transportation includes the Metro Area Express (MAX) bus rapid transit and the downtown KC Streetcar, which began service in 2016.
Landmarks and culture: The city is known for its many fountains, its world-famous barbecue, and its professional sports teams, the Chiefs and the Royals.

I had heard that Kansas City had a huge jazz scene in the 1920s – here’s more on that:

Kansas City’s jazz history is defined by its “hard-swinging” and blues-based style that emerged in the 1920s and ’30s, largely because of a “wide-open” nightlife fostered by political boss Tom Pendergast. This environment attracted displaced musicians, and the city became a hub for developing artists like Count Basie and Charlie Parker.The music evolved in the 18th and Vine district, characterized by improvisation and strong blues roots, and eventually influenced the development of bebop.

“Wide-open” city:

During Prohibition, political boss Tom Pendergast allowed speakeasies and nightclubs to operate freely, creating a vibrant and 24-hour music scene.

Musical hub:

This thriving atmosphere attracted musicians from across the country, making Kansas City a center for jazz innovation.

18th and Vine district:

The 18th and Vine area became the heart of the city’s African-American community and its jazz scene, a place where musicians developed their skills and styles.

Musical style:

Kansas City jazz was known for its blues-heavy, riff-based, and hard-swinging sound, with a strong emphasis on improvisation.

Transition to bebop:

This style served as a bridge between the structured big band era and the more improvisational and complex bebop style, with Kansas City native Charlie Parker being a key figure in the latter.

Key musicians:

Many legendary musicians got their start or had significant careers in Kansas City, including Count Basie, Charlie Parker, Lester Young, Andy Kirk, and Mary Lou Williams.

I loved the look of the Kauffman Center from our hotel room, seemed like something that Frank Gehry would have created (kinda like the Disney concert hall in downtown Los Angeles) and reminded me of the “Armadillo” in Glasgow:

Kauffman Center Kansas City

In addition to Charlie Parker, Kansas City can also count Ernest Hemingway as a resident and visitor:

Ernest Hemingway lived and worked in Kansas City for six months in 1917-1918 as a cub reporter for the Kansas City Star, an experience that heavily influenced his minimalist writing style through the paper’s concise Star Copy Style.He also visited Kansas City in 1928 to be present for the birth of his son, Patrick, and his time in the city is referenced in some of his well-known literary works.

KC Demographics:

Kansas City’s demographics show a large and diverse population, with the largest ethnic group in the city being White (Non-Hispanic) at about 54.5%, followed by Black or African American (Non-Hispanic) at 25.5%. The metro area has a population of over 2 million, while the city of Kansas City, Missouri has about 508,000 residents. Key economic factors include a median age of 36.5, a median household income of around $65,225, and about 13% of the population living below the poverty line.

Population and ethnicity

City of Kansas City, MO: 508,233 residents
- White (Non-Hispanic): 54.5%
- Black or African American (Non-Hispanic): 25.5%
- Other (Hispanic): 4.05%
- Two or More Races (Hispanic): 3.78%
- Two or More Races (Non-Hispanic): 3.64%
Kansas City Metropolitan Area: 2.19 million residents
- White (Non-Hispanic): 1.55 million
- Black or African American (Non-Hispanic): 261,000
- Hispanic: 211,000
Foreign-born population: 8.44% in the city and 6.79% in the metro area

Age and gender

- Median age: 36.5
- Age range distribution:
  - 0-9: 12%
  - 10-19: 15%
  - 20-29: 15%

Gender:
- Female: 51%

Economic data

Per capita income: $41,887
Median household income: $65,225
Poverty rate: 13% of the population
Poverty among children (under 18): 16%
Poverty among seniors (65 and over): 15%

Week in Review – October 12th, 2025

“Fall Weather – must be festival season”

Monday morning was all Diana – she started with a run with Laurie and then the poor thing had to have a root canal done. Her mouth was sore the rest of the day and night.

I was surprised to get an email for a Rush concert tour presale. Their amazing drummer, Neal Peart, died several years ago and I really didn’t expect them to ever replace him. And they haven’t only replaced him – but with a girl. Who knew? I’m hoping to be able to see them on this tour – one last time. I’ve loved every one of their shows that I’ve attended. Here’s what Rick Beato has to say about the new drummer, who played in Jeff Beck’s band before he died.

Late breaking news – I tried to buy tickets and was abhorred by the price they were asking. There’s no way I’m paying close to $400 for a ticket when I can see amazing music here in New Orleans for $20. That doesn’t even take into account the airfare and hotel to go and watch the show. So disappointed in the remaining two members of Rush – just a money grab.

I watched a documentary about Paddy Chayefsky and enjoyed it a lot. If you’re not familiar, he is the only screenwriter to win three Academy awards (for Marty, The Hospital, and Network.) Here’s some more detail:

Paddy Chayefsky Wiki

I smiled when I heard that Paddy, Mel Brooks, Bob Fosse, and Neil Simon used to eat lunch together at the Carnegie Deli every day – can you imagine how entertaining those sessions were?

We made an excursion over to the old Gretna mall (10 minute drive, but on the other side of the Mississippi) on Tuesday afternoon. I bought a replacement bezel and insert for my old watch and wanted to see if the watch repair guys there could install it, as I followed the instructions and couldn’t make it work. It’s been a long time since I was in one of these malls – food court, Dillard’s, JC Penney and all the rest of the stores you would expect, and I realize that I have spent waaaay too much time in those over the years. They couldn’t make the bezel work but did show me that it was slightly the wrong size and told me what model number to try and find. I think I found one and will give it a try.

After that excitement, I stopped by the New Orleans Athletic Club (NOAC) for a pleasant swim and steam.

Diana started Wednesday with her usual run and yoga routine. Meanwhile, I worked on the guitar part of “Centerfield” by John Fogerty – there is a lot of work to be done. This is the first time that I’ve picked up the guitar in a while, and I’m looking forward to getting into learning some new songs. I’m amazed at all the different way YouTube teachers tell you to play the same song. And none of them seem to match up with what I watch Fogerty playing on his videos.

In the afternoon, we made the short walk down to Aquila Bistro for a coffee and a chat (crossword already done.) I regaled Diana with stories from the “Perfect Tuba” book that I’m reading – discussing how the two perfect tubas created by the York company in the 1930s have not been duplicated after all the major and specialty manufacturers have tried. Just like the difference between a Stradivarius and all comers.

We tried the NOAC pickleball court on Thursday morning. It wasn’t useable, even for warm up rallying. There were too many dead zones where the ball didn’t bounce at all. I have since talked to the owner of the club who told me he’s having the stones re-laid and flattened to provide a better court. We look forward to that happening.

I had a swim instead of pickleball and Diana walked on the treadmill.

After that, I twisted Diana’s arm and we drove over to 1,000 figs for a delicious Mediterranean lunch – sharing the falafel platter (more than enough for two.)

In the evening we watched the movie “What Happens Later” starring Meg Ryan and David Duchovny, and directed by Ryan. This was a quiet movie – the two characters had a relationship many years ago, and meet randomly when attempting to catch connections in a small airport. A snow storm delays their flights and they have an opportunity to catch up on their lives. I enjoyed this one.

After that, I watched “Famous Last Words”, an interview with Jane Goodall that she made to air after her death. She is so straight forward, open, and clear in her feelings. One that made me laugh is when she talks about putting Musk, Trump, Trump’s lackeys, and Putin into Musk’s spaceship and launching them off into oblivion. A very engaging watch.

Friday began with some time in Audubon park. Diana and Julia met up for a walk and I had a short run and then walked with them. Julia always has some entertaining news to share – this time that her husband, John, had just made his first hole in one on the golf course. Had to happen at some point for someone who plays golf four or five times a week.

After that I drove Diana around on various errands – over the Mississippi (again) to the Harvey Target for some returns, over to the NOAC to pick up the fancy water bottle she forgot on the treadmill yesterday, and then to the Whole Foods on Broad Street to pick up some supplies for the weekend. Quite the tour of New Orleans area hotspots…

John Prine’s (likely my favourite song writer) birthday was celebrated at the Broadside on Friday night with Dave Jordan and an amazing band that he assembled.

Rurik Nunan was the star of the band for me – wonderful violin and a great voice, and seemed to be keeping the band on point and organized. Here he is doing the hilarious “In Spite of Ourselves” with his wife:

I think she did a great job of hamming up the Iris DeMent part.

Lynn Drury did a great job with “Speed of the Sound of Loneliness”, followed by “Hello in There” and finally “Angel from Montgomery.” The emotional impact of those three in a row was almost too much for us.

Dave Pomerlou did a good job on a couple of songs and was very solid on the bass:

Jacob Tanner was a star on the pedal steel and slide resonator:

What an amazing band playing some of my favourite music!

Saturday started early so that Diana could vote in the local election before meeting Laurie for a run. I walked down to the Magazine Street firehouse with her and had a coffee while she voted across the street.

Walking in the newly arrived fall weather is a treat.

After the walk, I spent some very pleasant time reading on the front porch. Tourist season is picking up rapidly and there were many folks walking past to meet up with walking tours or to enjoy jazz brunch at Commander’s Palace.

Tommy showed up to change out the air conditioning filters and do some other minor A/C work. I had expected him yesterday, but was happy he came by.

We drove to Jeff and Merry Lee’s place on Saturday afternoon, parked there, and then walked to the Blues and BBQ festival at Lafayette square. Carolyn Wonderland, a favourite from our time at the Kessler theater in Dallas and at various venues in Austin, got things started for us.

I learned something new in Carolyn’s intro speech to one of her songs. She was the lead guitar player in the John Mayall Blues band from 2017 until he retired in 2022. That’s the same band that introduced us to Eric Clapton, Jeff Beck and many others. Here’s some more details from Carolyn:

Carolyn Wonderland in John Mayall Blues Band

And a performance with John Mayall:

Kara and Anne met us at the festival and the girls enjoyed a chat on our blanket:

After Carolyn, Leo Nocentelli did a set on the opposite stage. This festival is run by the guys that do the Jazzfest and everything runs to the minute with no downtime between stages. Leo was a founding member of the Meters – the famous funk band from New Orleans that created a whole new style of music. Leo wrote “Cissy Strut” – part of Diana’s introductory course to New Orleans music.

Leo Nocentelli bio

And here’s the 1975 Meters song, “Fire on the Bayou”:

Diana organized food – bringing me yummy garlic shrimp and noodles from the wonderful Vietnamese “Magasin,” and a pupusa for herself from the batture farmer’s market guys.

The Devon Allman Blues Summit were the headliners. Devon is the son of Cher and Duane Allman – looks somewhat like his mother and sings like an even more soulful version of his father. I loved this entire set – alternating Allman Bros songs with their own band and other covers.

My favourite from the Summit was “Little Wing”, the Jimmy Hendrix song that was covered by Duane Allman (Devon’s uncle) on the Derek and the Dominoes album. Here’s the start of the Dominoes version:

And the end:

Larry McCray, a special member of the Summit, did an amazing version of Soulshine:

I love the Les Paul guitar sound on Mellisa:

And the band finished up with “Midnight Rider:”

What a great afternoon and evening of music.

Sunday brought a whole change of pace. We started with a long walk down St Charles Avenue (the streetcar line) to the Jefferson intersection, approximately 2 miles, stopping for a coffee at the Columns on the way back home. Such luxury in such nice weather.

We went to a new country and met the people with their different language and customs on Sunday afternoon. What Kenny calls “the Bahamas of the 9th Ward.”

Trey lives in Venetian Isles – I had no idea that it was a 30 minute drive from our home. The annual Fishing Rodeo was a hoot – not our normal group of folks but a great time. Trey’s friend Nina provided the great music:

Denny participated in the competition but didn’t win the flounder category he was betting on:

A quote from Trey – “No sharks on my boat, you can go to Popeye’s for dinner and it won’t bit you back – absolutely no sharks on my boat.”

Look at these keen fishermen:

And this guy with the hat that Will gave me from his Wolf clothing line – the guys were calling it my “rapper hat” because of the straight bill:

I oscillated between a few books this week. The first was “The Perfect Tuba: Forging Fulfillment from the Bass Horn, Band, and Hard Work” by Sam Quinones, a decorated journalist who had focused on drug issues until now. Here’s an online summary:

“The tuba’s sound is mighty, emerging, it seems, from deep in the human body. Very little music has, up until recently, been written to play to its strengths. The best the tuba seems to promise is a seat at the back of the band. No stadium shows, no Internet adulation. And yet, this horn-the youngest of all brass instruments-has captured the hearts of an inspired group of musicians ever since its invention in 1835.

In The Perfect Tuba, Sam Quinones embarks on a trek to get to know American tubists. He tells the astounding stories of two men who set out to replicate the “perfect tuba,” an instrument made by York & Sons in the 1930s and never since equaled; of Big Bill Bell, whose 1950s album rearranged the tuba landscape; and of Arnold Jacobs, a tuba guru at the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, who studied the physiology of breathing and offered rune-like nuggets of wisdom to his legions of students. Quinones also takes us through the tuba scenes of New Orleans, Orlando, Knoxville, New York City, and, most importantly, Roma, Texas, a dusty town in the Rio Grande Valley where a visionary high school marching band director fashioned a program that now regularly wins state championships and sends its students off to college.

After nearly a decade on the front lines of America’s battle with drug addiction, Sam Quinones delivers another story of our nation, this time brought together by the transformative power of shared joy and humble achievement.”

I remember the first time that I heard Arnold Jacobs and the Chicago Symphony on a piece where the tuba was somewhat prevalent – I was amazed at the depth and resonance of the sound and assumed it was related to the location used for the recording. Turns out he was playing one of the two “perfect tubas.”

There’s a quote in the book about a tuba student who sees John Fletcher play with the Philip Jones Brass Ensemble for the first time and is astounded when he breaks out the “Flight of the Bumblebee.” I vividly remember Dad taking me to see these guys and being amazed at the versatility and quality of the playing.

Here’s my favourite John Fletcher and overall tuba recording:

A recording called “Big Bell and his Tuba” from the 1950s was mentioned in the book as the earliest album to feature the tuba as a solo instrument. This is a very entertaining album:

My second book was “The Common Good” by Robert Reich (of the documentary that we watched a couple of weeks ago.) This was an insightful and frustrating read. I agree with most of Reich’s points and we are moving so quickly away from anything resembling what he advocates for.

Reich’s premise for why something needs to be done about “The Common Good”:

” I WAS AT the impressionable age of fourteen when I heard John F. Kennedy urge us not to ask what America can do for us but what we can do for America. Seven years later I took a job as a summer intern in the Senate office of his brother Robert F. Kennedy. It was not a glamorous job, to say the least. I felt lucky when I was asked to run his signature machine. But I told myself that in a very tiny way I was doing something for the good of the country. That was a half century ago. I wish I could say America is a better place now than it was then. Surely our lives are more convenient. Fifty years ago there were no cash machines or smartphones, and I wrote my first book on a typewriter. As individuals, we are as kind and generous as ever. We volunteer in our communities, donate, and help one another. We pitch in during natural disasters and emergencies. We come to the aid of individuals in need. We are a more inclusive society, in that African Americans, women, and gays have legal rights they didn’t have a half century ago. Yet our civic life—as citizens in our democracy, participants in our economy, managers or employees of companies, and members or leaders of organizations—seems to have sharply deteriorated. What we have lost, I think, is a sense of our connectedness to each other and to our ideals—the America that John F. Kennedy asked that we contribute to.”

A definition of “The Common Good:”

“The idea of “the common good” was once widely understood and accepted in America. After all, the U.S. Constitution was designed for “We the people” seeking to “promote the general welfare”—not for “me the selfish jerk seeking as much wealth and power as possible.” During the Great Depression of the 1930s and World War II, Americans faced common perils that required us to work together for the common good, and that good was echoed in Franklin D. Roosevelt’s “Four Freedoms”—freedom of speech, of worship, from want, and from fear. The common good animated many of us—both white and black Americans—to fight for civil rights and voting rights in the 1960s. It inspired America to create the largest and most comprehensive system of public education the world had ever seen. And it moved many of us to act against the injustice of the Vietnam War, and others of us to serve bravely in that besotted conflict.”

On Ayn Rand – she was the answer to a trivia question a few weeks back and we had a short debate about her philosophy – universally disagreeing with her (as did several other tables that we overheard.)

“Ayn Rand had it completely wrong. Moral choices logically involve duties to others, not just calculations about what’s best for ourselves. When members of a society ask, “What is the right or decent thing to do?,” they necessarily draw upon understandings of these mutual obligations. While our contemporary culture of self-promotion, iPhones, selfies, and personal branding churns out a fair number of narcissists, it is our loyalties and attachments that define who we are.”

My third book didn’t last long – I gave it one chapter and was thoroughly bored with the quoting of names, record labels, and recordings with no through story or narrative. Absolutely not my thing.

I love this song that I heard on a recent TV show. Is it sampling Leon Russell? I think it has to be but haven’t confirmed yet:

I just listened and can confirm that the vocal is definitely sampled:

This band is playing at the newly reopened Jazz Market soon and may be worth a visit:

Coexist peacefully, with kindness and patience for all.

Week in Review – October 5th, 2025

“Gretna Fest, 2025”

When I left you last week, I was watching the Saints and Bills football game. The Saints hung in well and ended up losing – a much more promising game than last week.

After that game, we walked over to NOLA Brewing to listen to The Walrus, a very good local Beatles cover band. Denny joined us for a while.

Next we made the short walk to Peet’s out in the cold so that Diana (and Denny) could get a frozen Pimm’s cup. Denny was then going to drop us home. We let him drive a little while before asking where he was going (seemed to be heading home and not to our home.) He was confused and we ended up driving further down Magazine to check out a brand new place called Studio. This seems to be a high end steak and other exotic meats place and they say they will open a butcher shop soon.

Then it was time for the Cowboys and Packers game. Very evenly matched, ultimately going into overtime and ending in the first Cowboys tied game since 1969.

Here’s a more detailed recap:

Cowboys Packers Game Recap

Diana had finished her new puzzle before lunch on Monday. I’m going to get more than 1,000 pieces going forward.

Diana had to get a sore tooth looked at on Monday afternoon – likely a root canal candidate. While she did that, I hosted Tommy at the house to investigate a leak from the A/C duct in our living room. I was also able to track down a guy in Gulfport, Mississippi who may be able to fix our electric grand piano. The annual termite inspection was also scheduled for this week. Look at me cranking out administrative tasks at the start of the week.

“Roadtrip to Gulfport, Mississippi” was the Tuesday theme. We left around 10:30am and arrived before noon. As mentioned in the previous paragraph, the intent was to rendezvous with a guy who might be able to fix our Yamaha electric grand piano. I met Eric and handed over the patient – I had disassembled the keyboard and I thought identified the issue – a capacitor on the amplifier/sound board. We went to find some lunch while Eric worked on things.

I had assigned Diana the task of finding a nice place for lunch during our drive. She chose “The Chimneys”, a somewhat upscale place on the beach road.

We were both pleased with our seafood lunches. Diana had a crab and shrimp salad and I had grouper with scallops. The setting was lovely – mature oak trees and a view of the beach and ocean.

Eric called, as we were enjoying an after lunch coffee at Boozers, to let us know that all was fixed.

I enjoyed the piano pickup – made the pleasant mistake of asking if he worked on Hammond organs. Eric took me to the other room, full of Hammonds and regaled me with stories of the various churches that he had retrieved them from and how he maintained all the local church’s Hammond organs. Good stuff.

The capacitor was indeed the issue – an $0.18 part – good grief!

All fixed:

Here’s a bunch more info on Gulfport and the history:

Gulfport Mississippi Information

We listened to a podcast of Terry Gros from Fresh Air, in conversation with Mark Ronson about his new book, “Night People – How to be a DJ in New York in the 90s.” This was a very good listen. Ronson has won 9 Grammy awards as a producer and collaborator and has an amazing musical ear and creativity. His step father is Mick Jones of Foreigner and I enjoyed his stories about helping Mick decide which mix of famous Foreigner songs was best.

Here’s a quote from the podcast:

“You just get this crazy blowback, this charge from the crowd all going like, ‘Oh!’ at the same time. You can call it the scream, the chant, whatever it is,” Ronson says. “It’s like clay or Play-Doh, like the whole crowd is this thing that you’re able to mold together. It’s incredible. It’s kind of why I can’t stop DJing. It’s still a feeling that I only get from this one thing, no matter what else I do in my work as a producer.”

I enjoyed talking to our friend Nick about this book. He was a DJ in New York around the same time and says Ronson was his idol.

Open in Spotify

I was sorry to read this article about the wonderful Austin, TX guitar player and singer, Ian Moore, and his voice loss:

Ian Moore Can’t Speak

The Tuesday newspaper included an article about the “skeleton house” on State Street – it’s up and running and one of the new pieces for this year is hilarious:

This just made it on the Sunday morning national news show with Willie Geist.

I did not make it to trivia on Tuesday night and the krewe came in third. This was the final question, which they answered correctly:

My guess is iPod, Office, Farmville, Netflix. After research the correct list is:

Farmville 2009

Netflix 2007

Office 2005

iPod 2001

I’ve never heard of Farmville, so no wonder I got that in the wrong spot.

If it’s Wednesday, then it’s likely that Diana, Kara, and Laurie are running in Audubon park and doing yoga. Yes – this is a typical Wednesday.

Then we went to see the movie “Eleanor the Great” starring June Squibb, 95 years old and amazing, playing a 94 year old lady who has moved back to New York.

Eleanor the Great details

The movie is directed by Scarlett Johansson and I teased Diana that we were just going to see it to support the director. We both loved this movie and highly recommend it. There are not many movies made like this these days – a great story, small cast, wonderful acting, and lots of quiet scenes with no dialog.

After the movie, I surprised Diana with a wander through the French Quarter to Patula, a hidden restaurant near the Toulouse and Royal intersection. This was our first visit and an excellent experience. A beautiful hidden courtyard, a wine that Diana loved, delicious Turkish style meatballs with yogurt and dill sauce, and wonderful service. Highly recommended and going on the regular rotation.

Here’s a more detailed write up on Patula:

Patula – Gambit article

Diana just told me there’s a new article about Patula in the paper – from a selfish perspective, that’s not helpful.

We had a walk and run in the park to start out Thursday. I even ran a bit as the weather starts to cool marginally. The termite inspection guy decided to try and come a couple of hours early as I was in the park – and wanted to argue with me that he had no control over his schedule and it wasn’t his fault I was told the wrong time – “I really don’t mind and am happy for you to reschedule.” Surprisingly (not) he was able to fit us in during the afternoon – and we are termite free.

We watched “All the King’s Men” on Thursday evening. This is about Huey P. Long and stars Sean Penn in that role. Jude Law, Kate Winslet, Patricia Clarkson, Anthony Hopkins and James Gandolfini all have parts. The movie occurred to me as I read in the Kermit at Vaughan’s book that they remodeled the bar with the money they received from the movie. I’ll have to watch again as I didn’t see anything that looked like Vaughan’s.

Diana had a run with Laurie on Friday morning, and I walked the 2.5 miles to meet her for breakfast at a new place afterwards. Cafe Malou opened on Monday and is connected to the wonderful Octavia Books via louvered book shelves, giving a speakeasy feel.

I listened to a podcast interview with the bluegrass phenom, Bill Strings, during my walk. This guy has had a very difficult life. My goodness. Thankfully music seems to have saved him so far.

Open in Spotify

The restaurant is small and loud when filled with the uptown ladies meeting up after dropping their kids at school. We will time our arrival differently next time. The food, however, was very good. I had grits carbonara – baked eggs with creamy grits and bacon – yummy. Diana had smoked salmon toast and a side of bacon – also yummy. I was notified that we’ll need to return soon to try the chocolate pot de creme:

Friday afternoon brought one of my weekly highlights – making groceries (that’s what they say here) with my wife. Always a treat. We bought supplies to make a lemon chicken and orzo dish and to reprise the breakfast casserole that I enjoyed recently.

Here was my mis en place preparation for the lemon chicken. Just like a cooking demonstration on TV.

I listened to WWOZ (local radio station) reprising their “Festing in Place” series:

“Festing in Place” was such a treat during COVID. Reliving Jazzfest experiences – and Diana decorated our patio with all the wonderful photographic memories over the years.

After dinner we watched Jon Batiste performing the opening show of the new Austin City Limits series (maybe the last given funding situations these days.) Excellent as always and highly recommended – such a variety of music and musicians.

Here’s a short biography of the wonderful Batiste:

Jon Batiste – a brief biography

And after that we watched about half of “The Lost Bus”- about a bus of school children trying to make it out of the Paradise, California wild fires. Matthew McConaughey is the bus driver.

Diana met Julia for a walk in the park on Saturday morning. I made my breakfast casserole and added Italian seasoned chicken this time. Here’s the recipe if you would like to play along:

breakfast casserole

And here’s a recommended cooking playlist that I used with the casserole:

Diana showed me this post from our neighbours and the three pups:

It rained off and on all afternoon, and I decided to break open my model car that Mum gave me for my birthday. It’s a large, complicated undertaking and comes with a 500 page assembly manual. After over an hour, I had just this start to the chassis done. It took a while to figure out the difference between many pieces that look alike. I think things will go much faster now that I’m over some of the basics.

Denny and Anne picked us up to go and see the Honey Island Swamp Band at NOLA Brewing on Saturday evening. Greg, Colleen, Fred and Kelly also attended.

The opening band went on forever and then the Honey Island tuned up forever. A show that was advertised to start at 7pm (albeit with an opening band) didn’t start until 9pm. They lost at least half of their audience. Once the band started, I enjoyed them:

I made the mistake of suggesting frozen Pimms cups on the way home – Anne and Diana were all in. It took a while for Anne to convince Denny to take a picture with this “Shout out to my arms for always being by my side” sign:

I enjoyed an article in the Sunday paper about the ability to get a haircut and a shot for $20 at the R bar in the Marigny. Diana was there recently with Kenny and Kara and took a picture of Kenny relaxing in the barber chair. This happens on Monday nights from 7pm until midnight. One puts one’s name on the list with the bartender and waits one’s turn.

https://app.nola.com/article/a-cut-of-the-action/content.html

We braved the rain on Sunday for Gretna Fest (one of my favourite annual festivals.) My weather app showed no rain from noon until 5pm – that would allow us to see the three bands I like before heading home.

The rain was light when we arrived and soon let up – I thought we were in the clear.

This scary looking wolf thing was guarding the Italian village food area. Sent it to Adamo as his Lupo constrcution is named after this species.

You can tell from the pictures that this festival was very lightly attended when we arrived just after noon. Even fewer people in the margarita area – usually very busy:

We set up near the front of the main stage and awaited the first band, Uncle Lucius.

We like this band a lot and have seen them several times. Kevin Galloway has a great voice. I thought this was the best that I had heard them – I think a new guitar player was helping lift their game but haven’t researched that yet. You might see someone you recognize up on the big screen in this video:

Next up was St. Paul and the Broken Bones. I have seen them on TV quite a few times, but never live. The band was very good and the singer very passionate, but they didn’t grab and keep my attention as much as other live bands. I know they’ve sold out Tipitinas a few times and think that might be a better venue for them.

Some heavy rain arrived during the St. Paul set. Thankfully Diana and I were prepared with ponchos and her wellies, Denny – not so much:

Look at these four drowned folks:

Denny, in an attempt to needle me, mentioned a young up and coming Country artist playing on the other big stage on the Riverfront. I offered to accompany Diana over there and miss the second half of St. Paul.

The offer was well received and she enjoyed John Foster quite a bit. He was quite impressive for 19 years old. Here’s the band doing the Charlie Daniels classic, “The Devil Went Down to Georgia:”

We returned to the Main Stage for JJ Grey and the rain rejoined us – quite heavy now. I’m amazed that these shows continue with as much water on the stage. JJ Grey was a real highlight for us – even better than I’ve heard him before, with two backup singers this time. Diana looked to see where he’s playing in the future that we might want to visit – that’s how much she enjoyed the show:

And finally, here’s what that sounded like a year ago at the same location:

This was a wonderful day of music and fun, despite the persistent rain. We did leave before Trombone Shorty – enough rain and stuff for the day already.

Here’s a wonderful personal history story from Ann Patchett, published in the New Yorker:

Glowworms by Anne Patchett

Clorinda loved Ann Patchett, particularly “The Dutch House”. I’ve enjoyed everything of hers that I’ve read, the only disappointment being “Bel Canto”, which others really enjoy but I just couldn’t relate to at all.

I read less than normal this week, making meager progress on “Real Tigers” by Mick Herron. I’ve always enjoyed the “Slow Horses” TV series and have been happy to find this series of very well written books. Here’s a summary of the story:

“London: Slough House is the MI5 branch where disgraced operatives are reassigned after they’ve messed up too badly to be trusted with real intelligence work. The “Slow Horses,” as the failed spies of Slough House are called, are doomed to spend the rest of their careers pushing paper, but they all want back in on the action.

When one of their own is kidnapped and held for ransom, the agents of Slough House must defeat the odds, overturning all expectations of their competence, to breach the top-notch security of MI5’s intelligence headquarters, Regent’s Park, and steal valuable intel in exchange for their comrade’s safety. The kidnapping is only the tip of the iceberg, however–the agents uncover a larger web of intrigue that involves not only a group of private mercenaries but the highest authorities in the Secret Service. After years spent as the lowest on the totem pole, the Slow Horses suddenly find themselves caught in the midst of a conspiracy that threatens not only the future of Slough House, but of MI5 itself.”

I really like the opening paragraph of this book:

“Like most forms of corruption, it began with men in suits.
A weekday morning on the edge of the City; damp, dark, foggy, not yet five. In the nearby towers, some of which reached upwards of twenty storeys, random windows were lit, making haphazard patterns in the glass-and-steel grids, and some of those lights meant early-bird bankers were at their desks, getting a jump on the markets, but most were a sign that the other City workers were on the job, the ones who wore overalls, and whose pre-dawn tasks involved vacuuming, polishing, emptying bins. Paul Lowell’s sympathies were with the latter. You either cleaned up other people’s messes or you didn’t–and that was the class system for you, right there.”

This Bowie cover was playing on the Patula patio and caught my ear:

This was on a radio show this week, I just can’t remember which one:

One of my cooking soundtrack songs:

Coexist peacefully, with kindness and patience for all!

Jon Batiste – a brief biography

Jonathan Michael Batiste: A Life in Music and Meaning

Early Years and Musical Foundations

Jonathan Michael Batiste was born on November 11, 1986, in Metairie, Louisiana, and raised in Kenner in the greater New Orleans area. He was born into a storied New Orleans musical family: the Batiste name carries weight in the city’s jazz and brass band traditions, with many extended relatives active in the local music scene.

Performance journey: he played percussion and drums in the Batiste Brothers Band, a family ensemble. When his mother suggested he try piano, he began formal classical lessons at about age eleven, studying with local teacher Shirley Herstein. Alongside formal study, he developed his ear by transcribing and playing video game music (e.g. Final Fantasy, Street Fighter, Sonic) — a practice that sharpened his musical versatility.

Jon attended St. Augustine High School and the New Orleans Center for Creative Arts (NOCCA), graduating in 2004. He then moved to New York City to enter the Juilliard School, where he earned both a Bachelor of Music (jazz) in 2008 and a Master of Music in 2011. These years in New York exposed him to broader musical networks and styles, expanding his ambitions beyond New Orleans.

Career Trajectory: Stay Human, Television, and Beyond

Formation of Stay Human & Early Recordings

Soon after arriving in New York, Jon formed a trio with bassist Philip Kuehn and drummer Joe Saylor. This core trio later expanded (including saxophonist Eddie Barbash) into the group Stay Human. One of their earliest releases was an EP titled My N.Y. — recorded in a “busker style,” using street performances and subway settings as a recording platform.

In 2013, Stay Human released Social Music, an album grounded in Jon’s philosophy of music as a force for connection and social uplift. Over time the band released several albums: Christmas with Jon Batiste (2016), Hollywood Africans (2018), We Are (2021), World Music Radio (2023), and Beethoven Blues (Batiste Piano Series, Vol. 1) (2024). Their sound fuses New Orleans jazz, R&B, soul, pop, and elements of hip hop — a genre‑fluid approach that resists labeling.

The Late Show and National Spotlight

Batiste and Stay Human first appeared on The Colbert Report in 2014, and soon thereafter were tapped to serve as the house band on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert, beginning with the show’s 2015 launch. Jon served as musical director and bandleader through 2022. Their nightly musical intros, outros, and interstitial performances brought Batiste’s style into millions of homes. In 2016 they released The Late Show EP, a collection drawn from the show’s musical interludes. In August 2022, Jon announced his departure from the show to pursue other creative avenues.

Film, Composition & Collaborations

Batiste’s compositional reach expanded into film. Most notably, he co‑composed the score for Pixar’s Soul (2020), alongside Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross. That collaboration earned him an Academy Award, a Golden Globe, a Grammy, and a BAFTA. That Oscar win made him only the second Black composer to win in the original score category (after Herbie Hancock).

He has also composed for other films (e.g. Spike Lee’s Red Hook Summer) and contributed music to documentaries and television. Batiste’s compositional ambition led him to produce American Symphony (premiered September 2022 at Carnegie Hall), a symphonic work chronicling his life and identity. In parallel, the 2023 documentary American Symphony (directed by Matthew Heineman) follows Jon’s creative journey as he composes this symphony while his wife, Suleika Jaouad, faces a leukemia relapse.

He has collaborated broadly across genres, working with artists such as Alicia Keys, Stevie Wonder, Prince, Lenny Kravitz, Ed Sheeran, Lana Del Rey, Mavis Staples, and many others.

Impact, Recognition & Personal Life

Awards and Honors

Jon Batiste has accrued many accolades. He has been nominated for more than twenty Grammy Awards, winning multiple. In 2022, his album We Are won Album of the Year among other awards. He has also been honored with titles such as Steinway Performing Artist, the Movado Future Legend Award, and has received honorary degrees and lifetime achievement awards. He has held institutional roles, including serving as Music Director of The Atlantic and Creative Director of the National Jazz Museum in Harlem.

Social Engagement & Advocacy

Beyond performance, Batiste sees music as a tool for social connection, equity, and justice. He supports organizations like the Equal Justice Initiative, the Innocence Project, and the NAACP Legal Defense Fund. In the wake of George Floyd’s murder and the Black Lives Matter movement, he led and participated in peaceful protests and used his platform to call for change.

His single “We Are” was not just a musical statement but also a philanthropic vehicle: proceeds supported the Equal Justice Initiative.

Personal Life & Recent Highlights

Jon Batiste is married to writer and cancer advocate Suleika Jaouad. Their relationship and personal challenges are central to American Symphony. Their song “It Never Went Away” from the documentary was nominated for an Academy Award.

In February 2025, Batiste performed a distinctive arrangement of the U.S. National Anthem at Super Bowl LIX in New Orleans — a performance that incorporated elements reflecting his Louisiana roots and symbolic artistry. Also in 2025, he released the song “Petrichor”, commemorating the 20th anniversary of Hurricane Katrina and urging climate awareness and action.

He has embarked on a new headlining tour, Big Money Tour: Jon Batiste Plays America, featuring music from Beethoven Blues and unreleased material.

Musically, Beethoven Blues (Batiste Piano Series, Vol. 1) (2024) marks a more introspective turn: reimagining Beethoven through his own lens, fusing classical with jazz and blues sensibilities.

Legacy & Forward Look

Jon Batiste is one of the most compelling voices in modern American music — rooted in tradition, yet unabashedly forward‑looking. His career reflects a synthesis: of New Orleans jazz heritage and contemporary genres; of performance and activism; of public visibility and introspective art.

He offers a model of the musician as citizen: someone whose art intersects with the social, political, and emotional lives of communities. His ability to operate across mediums — television, film, symphony, popular albums — while maintaining sincerity is rare.

As he continues, one can expect bold new compositions, further cross‑genre collaborations, and art that remains both deeply personal and broadly connective. Whether he composes large orchestral works, experiments in immersive performance, or expands his social initiatives, his trajectory promises to be as dynamic as the music he creates.

Information about Gulfport, Mississippi

We visited Gulfport for the first time (not counting driving through on the Ocean highway) on Tuesday, September 30, 2025. We were there to see a gentleman about repairing our electric grand piano – he was successful in troubleshooting the lack of sound, and tracking the issue down to a failed $0.18 capacitor. Not knowing much about the city, I did some quick online research. Here’s an AI overview, followed by some history.

Here’s what the city of Gulfport, population around 70,000 looks like:

Directions to drive from New Orleans:

“Overview of Gulfport MS:

Gulfport is the second-largest city in Mississippi

and, with Biloxi, is one of two county seats for Harrison County. Known as “The Port City,” Gulfport has a vibrant waterfront personality with an economy driven by maritime commerce, tourism, and military operations.

History

Founded as a railroad terminus

Gulfport was officially incorporated in 1898, originally founded in 1887 by William H. Hardy as the terminus for the Gulf and Ship Island Railroad.
Early lumber port With the backing of Philadelphia tycoon Joseph T. Jones, the port and rail lines were developed, and the city became the nation’s largest lumber export port in the early 20th century.
Transition to tourism and gaming As the timber resources diminished, the city shifted its focus to tourism, attracting visitors with its beaches, hotels, and, beginning in the 1990s, casino gambling.
Resilience after hurricanes

Gulfport has rebuilt and expanded multiple times after being devastated by hurricanes, most notably Camille in 1969 and Katrina in 2005.

Economy and industry

Top industries: Major employers in Gulfport and the surrounding metropolitan area include health care, retail trade, and the leisure and hospitality sectors.

Maritime hub: The Port of Gulfport is a world-class terminal and a major economic driver, serving as one of the busiest ports in the Gulf of Mexico. It is a significant import hub for green fruit.
Military presence: The city hosts the Naval Construction Battalion Center for the U.S. Navy Seabees and the Gulfport Combat Readiness Training Center

Culture and attractions

Waterfront recreation:

Jones Park, often called the “Front Yard for the State of Mississippi,” is a centerpiece of the city, adjacent to the port and harbor facilities. It hosts concerts and festivals, including the Harbor Lights Winter Festival.
Unique downtown scene: Following reconstruction after Hurricane Katrina, the downtown area has experienced a revitalization.

Fishbone Alley, a formerly gloomy service alley, has been transformed into a vibrant community gathering space with murals and street art.
Casinos: The Island View Casino Resort offers gaming, dining, and entertainment options for adults.
Family-friendly fun: Gulfport provides numerous family attractions, including the Mississippi Aquarium, Gulf Islands Waterpark, and the interactive Lynn Meadows Discovery Center
.
Historic and quirky sights: Visitors can explore historic buildings like the

Carnegie Library, see the World’s Largest Rocker, or visit the

Mississippi Aviation Heritage Museum.
Gateway to Ship Island: Gulfport offers ferry services to Ship Island, a barrier island that is part of the Gulf Islands National Seashore and home to the historic Fort Massachusetts.
Diverse festivals: The city is a host for a number of special events, such as the classic car festival “Cruisin’ the Coast” and the charitable “Jeepin’ the Coast” event.

History of Gulfport, MS:

Although the present day Port of Gulfport was officially established in 1902, the area’s strategic location along the Gulf of Mexico has made it a destination for vessels for more than 300 years. As far back as 1699, the French explorer D’Iberville used the natural basin on the lee side of Ship Island as a safe haven. In 1961, the Port of Gulfport became a state-owned facility and has continued to expand its business interests and facilities.

For many years before and after the Civil War, the port was a primary site for exporting lumber products. During South Mississippi’s timber boom, this location was ideal for a port to connect with the Ship Island anchorage. This strategically situated port resulted in the founding and naming of present day city of Gulfport. Within its first decade of operation, the Port of Gulfport became the world’s leading exporter of yellow pine.

When the region’s yellow pine forests began to diminish, the port sought out other business opportunities. The proximity to Central America led to the importation of huge quantities of bananas. The port became a serious competitor in the Gulf of Mexico when Dole and Chiquita arrived in Gulfport.

Over the years, the port has faced many natural disasters, two of which completely leveled the port’s facilities. Hurricane Camille in 1969 and Hurricane Katrina in 2005 left the port devastated and forced to rebuild from the ground up. The innate resilience of the people of the Mississippi Gulf Coast and their desire for a world-class port were the catalysts for both rebuilding efforts.

The Port of Gulfport continues to thrive and meet aggressive targets. The Port is now the third largest container port on the Gulf of Mexico, among the top 2O U.S. container ports and the second largest importer of green fruit in the nation.