There’s always been something incongruous about Dr. John. In the 1950s he was one of the few white musicians to play an integral part in the explosive New Orleans rhythm-and-blues recording scene. Under his real name, Mac Rebennack, he played piano and guitar on sessions by such greats as Dave Dixon, Huey Smith and the Clowns, and Professor Longhair. No doubt he developed his laidback hipster personality during this time, but it never obscured the fact that he was a serious-minded, articulate student of the entire Louisiana musical tradition, from backwoods blues to the jazzy R & B many favored during the late 50s.
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Likewise, the song “Gris-Gris,” the Night Tripper anthem, lays surrealistic lyrics over a hard-driving piano rhythm line featuring a complex interplay between the right and left hands that makes clear the influence of Professor Longhair. The tune’s refrain–“walk on golden splinters”–was adapted, characteristically, by Dr. John from the old-time Louisiana minstrel shows.
Dr. John’s love of New Orleans music, and the heritages behind it, is evident offstage as well as on. In New Orleans he was influential in organizing a union to assist indigent musicians; he also used his influence to secure a charter–Dr. John’s Temple of Gris-Gris–for the reverend mothers of the local spiritualist churches so that they could continue to practice their healing rituals without being harassed by the police. His music and conversation both reflect his commitment to carrying on one of our richest cultural heritages.
No Dr. John performance would be complete without a tribute to his New Orleans R & B roots. Although Charles Brown is best known as the godfather of the slick southern California blues crooners, he also cut some sides in New Orleans in the 50s on which the young Mac Rebennack was present. At the Moulin Rouge Dr. John featured a reworking of Brown’s standard “Black Night” that began in a bluesier vein than Brown’s mellow original but soon smoothed out under the easy-rolling melodiousness of the horn arrangements and Dr. John’s sophisticated piano comping.
Fortunately the good Doctor, who played throughout Muldaur’s set, was on hand to help rescue her. His “Such a Night” brightened the middle of her set: one of Dr. John’s most mainstream pop stylings, it’s much more appropriate to Muldaur’s style than such soul ballads as “Please Send Me Someone to Love.” He enhanced the song with a lush, Gershwin-like intro incorporating subtle influences ranging from traditional New Orleans jazz to bebop. His solo featured a loping left-hand pattern overlaid with scurrying treble runs; these were both bluesy and laced with sophisticated pop-jazz harmonic ideas. He also joined her in “Baby, It’s Cold Outside,” based on the Ray Charles-Betty Carter duet version; here he combined whimsy and a jazzy sophistication with a refreshing low-key wit.
