A lot a folks try hard to master cool. Is it a look? Is it a shuffle? Is it what you do? Is it how you do it? Nah, it just is. It ain’t no single thing, not the authentic stuff. That stuff, that’s just, it’s smooth, it’s hip, it’s easy, it’s cool.

So that’s about how we felt out there on Frenchmen St. that evening. The freaks and all else were out. George Porter Jr. was getting prepped to go full-on-ham inside The Blue Nile, and Khris Royal, well he laid it down trippy in our rig as a tune up. After The Van he was stepping inside of the club to play next to George Porter. Because that’s how you do it in New Orleans. At least best I can tell. Night to night, gig to gig, song to song, it just is.

So I posted up on our sofa, and soaked up the experience. Breathed in the New Orleans evening. My dog took a nap, peaking up from time to time to spaz out on a vagrant, or snap at a tourist. He was signaling he’d had a long day. The crew was right there with him. So when Khris was through, we broke it all down, cleaned it up, and took to that night.

It paid us back in music, wild folks dancing and laughing, legends, old ladies spinning records, chicken on the side of the street, and then slumber on that very street… It was cool.