Wednesday night here in Savannah there was a showing of the Todd Haynes movie I’m Not There — his wild riff on the idea of Bob Dylan, using six different actors to portray aspects of Dylan-ness — at a coffee shop here, courtesy of The Psychotronic Film Society. It was pretty crowded, kind of too warm, and not the perfect night for me to spend two-plus hours in a wooden chair. But still. Interesting movie.

I bring it up because I was interested that the film included Dylan’s “Blind Willie McTell,” which as readers of my original SJI essay know, is an interesting song document in the history of SJI. The visuals it played against were largely evocative of late-Civil Rights era violence. Make of that what you will.

Also, one of the Dylan versions, the one played by Cate Blanchett, in a soliloquy, dropped the line “mystery is a traditional fact,” a Dylan-ism I mused about here.

If you see, or have seen, the film, let me know what you make of it. I’ll admit straight out that it didn’t totally connect with me, but that I think that may have had more to do with my state of mind at the time than the film itself.

Whether you’re in town for the Fest, or the Stomp, or because, you know, you live there, I hope you’ll pick up a copy of Offbeat and check out something they asked me to write. To wit:

Rob Walker presents his liner notes to an imaginary compilation of versions of the New Orleans classic, ìSt. James Infirmary.

That’s right. It was fun to do. And for the moment at least, it’s not online. So if you’re in a position to do so, please check it out and let me know what you think.

The NYT, if you didn’t see it, had what I thought was a pretty good article about “Louisiana 1927,” the Randy Newman song that has a kind of second meaning now, post-Katrina. I almost wrote something about that song on this site once, and maybe I’ll dig up my draft and try to revive it later this week. But this piece is definitely worth checking out. I don’t know about you, but I get a little choked up even reading about “Louisiana 1927,” and how its lyrics resonate today.

Snippet:

“It’s a New Orleans tradition that you can take any music and mess with it,” said Bruce Boyd Raeburn, the curator of the Hogan Jazz Archive at Tulane University. The key lyric is “They’re tryin’ to wash us away,” he said, because it is applicable to most periods of New Orleans history. “It captures that feeling that you’re trying to cling on to your culture, to your life, in the face of this wave of indifference, of racism, of malevolence and of water itself.”

T-P Music writer Keith Spera says:

The well-trod “Do You Know What it Means to Miss New Orleans” is, like “St. James Infirmary” and “Lil’ Liza Jane, ” a New Orleans standard overdue for retirement.

Due for retirement?

“St. James Infirmary”??

You’re fucking fired.

A bit more than two years ago, I published on this site a mini-review of a then-new version of “SJI” by Isobel Campbell and Mark Lanegan. I really didn’t care for it, but of course I know that Campbell and Lanegan have a lot of indie-rockin’ fans. Anyway, Campbell did the singing on that, so I was interested to come upon a recent reference to another Lanegan project where “SJI” popped up. This time, Lanegan does the singing.

Lanegan (Screaming Trees; Queens of the Stone Age) has a project with Greg Dulli (Afghan Whigs; Twilight Singers), in which they call themselves the Gutter Twins. The Independent recaps a recent show here, and notes:

Lanegan’s gristly “she’ll never find another man like me” during the folk standard “St James Infirmary Blues” finds rare comfort in somewhat macho conceit.

I’m pretty late with this news, but those of you who follow things in New Orleans are no doubt aware that Al Copeland passed away recently.

He died of a malignant salivary gland tumor, near Munich German; he was 64. The Times obit failed to explain what he was doing in Germany, but it did provide a nice overview of Copeland’s interesting life. Just to review:

He founded Popeye’s, the fried-chicken chain, which did really well until he tried to take over rival chain Church’s, and ended up being pushed by a pile of debt into bankruptcy. He stared another chain, Copeland’s, which I believe is still doing all right. He was also definitely a leading character in New Orleans public life, from his over-the-top Christmas lights that became a quasi-tourist attraction, to the ups and downs of his four marriages. He also tried to get into the gambling business, and during the period when we lived in New Orleans, ended up in a brawl at an area steakhouse when seated near one of the people who had beaten him out for a casino license.

Plus, he had a big public feud with Anne Rice about putting up one of his restaurants on a site that had some importance in her most famous books. Oddly, the site in question was a former – I believe defunct – car dealership. So it’s not like it was pretty, or useful. It was just important to Anne Rice, or rather to the fate of one of her, you know, fictional characters. Copeland prevailed on that one. Silly.

Anyway, I bring all this up because of the writeup about his funeral in the T-P:

Although Copeland may have eschewed much of his characteristic bravado in his final months, mourners saw plenty of reminders of his over-the-top style when they reached the family mausoleum in Metairie Cemetery. Nine cars, eight motorcycles, a sport-utility vehicle and a dune buggy were parked in a semicircle. A motorcycle was at the gate, and Copeland’s outsize speedboat, with tongues of flame on each side, was nearby.

And the SJI connection:

Copeland’s body was borne in a horse-drawn hearse with oval windows that let everyone see the gleaming bronze casket. Leading the way was the New Orleans Spice Jazz Band, which played a doleful medley of “My Way” and “St. James Infirmary” as grand marshal Jennifer Jones took long, slow steps in her spats-covered shoes, her gloved hand over her heart.

Full account here.

In the comments to one of the posts below, AnimaMundi brings the sad news that the very popular New Orleans blogger Ashley Morris has passed away.

Those of you in New Orleans may want to know that the funeral is this Friday. (”Attire is either formal or SAINTS (or combination).” Further details here.

Also: An open thread about Morris, and news of a memorial fund.

All About Jazz describes a White  House event featuring guests the Dirty Dozen Brass Band, Kermit Ruffins, and others. Also:

As the night wound down and the guests were either asked to leave or escorted out, Condy Rice sat in at the piano, she is a fine pianist by the way, and did a credible version of “St. James Infirmary.”

I’m thinking the key, though, is the date on this item: April 1. I think I just about got Fooled.

This may have very little to do with “St. James Infirmary” or New Orleans, but it does have to do with music and place.

This very pleasing account of the sounds of doo-wop on subway platforms comes from Scrapple From The Apple:

At this subway stop, just below Carnegie Hall, there’s an alcove waiting area. It is sandwiched between the men’s and women’s bathrooms which are open at the whim of the attendant. These whims are generally not favorable.

The acoustics, however, are. It’s where the Doo-Wop groups from all over New York City convene to practice and perform, singing tunes of the 50’s and 60’s, from groups like the Platters, Coasters, and Drifters, some Sam Cooke, and a few gospel standards.

Read the rest here.

An item here last November about a Tiger Okoshi performance in Philadelphia noted that the show’s encore included a version of “SJI,” and the “curator” of the performance series, pianist Danilo Pérez, “unable contain himself” came onstage and joined in.

That incident is the lead-in of this recent Philadelphia Inquirer article about Pérez. Apart from  just a bit more detail on that (he “began adding chords and lines of shadowy complexity, transforming a song of antique origin into a progressive statement all his own”), the piece gives an overview of Pérez’ career: He’s 41, was born in Panama (the son of a bolero singer), and is now a member of the Wayne Shorter Quartet. He’s also made several records of his own. The rest is here. Pérez’ own site is here — looks like he has not, to date, recorded his own “SJI.” One can only hope…