US: New Orleans musicians find way to soothe the city with music

On Saturday afterons, pianist Harry Mayronne wheels a pia onto front porch of home of jazz singer Anais St. John for ir weekly performance. duo – d 6-feet apart – serenes a handful of friends and neighbors assembled on chairs on sidewalk and a larger audience online.

For years, two have performed intimate cabaret-style jazz numbers at city’s swanky clubs and hotels. But w as coronavirus has shuttered those venues, y and or musicians have been forced to find or outlets to both make ends meet and musically soo a city that desperately needs it.

“It’s something that’s become really magical and really special very suddenly,” said Mayronne.

Few cities are as closely identified with music as New Orleans. It’s heralded as birthplace of jazz, and it’s a rich melting pot of genres, from zydeco to hip-hop, from R&B to rock. It’s a destination for vibrant live performances that can be heard from just about every corner of city.

But coronavirus and social-distancing measures designed to fight it have nearly silenced its music scene. Bars and restaurants, where music could be blaring out until early morning hours, are closed. numerous festivals held in spring, which are an important money-maker for artists before slow, hot summer months, have been canceled, such as this week’s New Orleans Jazz Fest. weekly second-line pares on Sundays featuring brass bands have stopped.

young musicians making a name for mselves busking on streets in French Quarter are gone. Jazz funerals where mourners send off loved ones with a slow dirge and n an uplifting rendition of “When Saints Go Marching In” are over.

Musicians have also fallen victim to virus, most tably Ellis Marsalis Jr. jazz pianist, longtime musical educator and patriarch of Marsalis musical family, died April 1 after contracting virus.

But city’s musicians are still finding ways to get music out to people. As clubs and venues close, many artists are livestreaming from ir porches, studios, living rooms, front lawns or wherever y can find for safe distancing.

For Mayronne and St. John, weekly performances sometimes have a me. One week it was “Quarantina” featuring songs by Tina Turner. But or days, it’s simply a “porch performance,” as it’s billed on social media.

A handful of neighbors — many wearing masks — bring folding chairs to watch and listen from sidewalk, careful to keep a safe distance from one ar.

“It’s nice to just be able to walk around corner, bring your wine and have a glass of wine with Anais,” said resident Penny Warriner, sitting across street during a recent performance. People can also watch online and tip through Venmo and PayPal.

On Frenchman Street, rmally packed clubs like Snug Harbor or Spotted Cat are quiet and ir doors shuttered. occasional pedestrian or bicyclist, some wearing face masks, goes up street.

Inside Maison lounge one recent Sunday, New Orleans rapper Mannie Fresh is playing DJ. He says into a microphone, “smile, today is a new day,” as he spins Kirk Franklin gospel tune “I Smile” to an audience of thousands. Thousands, that is, online.

club kwn for live acts such as Brass-A-Holics and Big Easy Brawlers is shuttered. Fresh’s only physical audience is club’s owner, Jeff Bromberger, and a handful of technicians streaming performance to outside world via Facebook, Instagram and Twitch.

“It’s just my way of uplifting people, and it’s uplifting for me as well,” Fresh said of his three-hour sets on Friday and Saturday nights and inspirational one-hour sets on Sundays.

“If you’re clapping your hands right w, put a thumbs-up sign to me or send me some prayer hands,” he says into camera on his computer, browsing comment thres and giving shout-outs to fans.

y also provide some structure and “routine” as residents remain under a citywide stay-at-home mandate, he said.

“It’s t crazy to say that if you come from New Orleans, you party Friday, Saturday, and you go to church on Sunday,” he said. “So, that’s our rmal routine.”

His audience has been growing each weekend, lately drawing some 10,000 to 20,000 viewers, Bromberger said: “It’s almost like medicine for people, because it’s a distraction.”

Waiting is a challenge for club owners like Bromberger, who owns Maison and Dragon’s Den. He h just started gutting and building a new venue when pandemic hit.

Bromberger said he’s concerned about uncertainty of how much time it will take for music scene to rebound and tourists to return. But he’s also worried about reopening only to have to close a second time if re’s a ar wave of infections.

“I have idea what environment, what market, what we’re even going to look like coming out of this, whenever that is,” he said. “I want to open up just like anyone else, but we’ve got to do it strategically and smart.”

For w, New Orleans artists are just grateful that fans are watching — and tipping — online or, for lucky few who live close eugh to catch one of St. John’s porch concerts, coming in person, from a safe distance, of course. She was scheduled to perform at this month’s French Quarter Festival, a free multi-day event during which area artists perform in various venues.

“We are resilient,” St. John said. “Things will come back, but it’s going to take time, and it’s going to take patience.”