We are here in New Orleans...the Big Easy, except that it is anything but. There is music everywhere, as if notes were money that fell from the sky. From the mouth of every restaurant and bar wafts the melody of a hungry band or musician. Some of them don't even make it into an establishment. They are manipulating their sound under the awning of this building or that, through inundating heat, alternating with torrential rain, thunder and lightening. I have never known weather to be so volatile...but perhaps it helps hone the musicians here from tender hoof to tough nut.
We set out to do a video song....guitar on Wilson's back and the tripod draped over mine. The city is loud. Louder it seems that any other, but that may be because we are attempting to record on the street here. The cars, taxi's, buses: all honking-squeeling, and a paint truck keeps circling with an obnoxious bedspring squeak. PARK ALREADY!!! We consider abandoning the whole idea! There is not a quiet spot in this entire town, but then we spy the Jackson Square garden. Ahhhh. Here we go! We set up our gear and angle towards a good background shot. While we strum our opening chords a gardener comes by, bristling with the heady power his small appointment affords him. "Sir, do you see anyone else playing music here?" We meekly reply, "No". He chortles, "Exactly!" I turn towards Wilson..."Mary and Joseph once again", because there have been so many of these 'No room at the inn' moments here.
Moving on we eventually tire on a door stoop somewhere. The heat and travel have taken their toll and the recording is far below a level acceptable to either of us. Out first video song attempt winds up on the cutting room floor, flowing murkily, like the Mississippi river.