Mar Thee Craw (2:43)

This song starts like you forgot something, but you just aren’t sure what it is.

Bam. Bam.

Don’t worry; it will roll back to you, right after this saxophone punch:

Hit.

We’ve added some snare drum to keep the spirit of travel alive and the piano roll is like a walk, reminding you of the primitive need to wander. Just listen to how those ivory keys keep turning over on themselves like the paddle wheel of an early steamer floating on down the ole Mississipp.’ You’re now aboard this river expedition; only you don’t know where it’s headed.

Oh well, when in doubt – whistle. Whistling always makes a man feel better.

Four notes down the scale.

Repeat.

Now walk back up but with pep in your step.

Whistle again.

You should be feeling the rhythm by now. You should be feeling the good vibe and it should be obvious that you are on a steamer full of celebration. Everyone on board is excited and has waited a long time for this and what waits at the end of this riverboat fantasy is just the beginning, and not an ending at all.

“So where are we goin’?”

Allow Professor Longhair to tell you.

That’s right--it’s Huckleberry Finn the dyslexic version. New Orleans, the Mardi Gras, now that’s a party. And I’m not talking about the Mardi Gras that is today, full of college bro’ douchebags with their smart phones out to get as many titties on camera as possible, or drunken sorority sisters screaming high pitch shrieks, demanding the local bars play the Twilight soundtrack showing no respect for the tradition of American music. I’m talking about Mardi Gras when it was a carnival, and not a televised event.

Professor Longhair is from Bogalusa, Louisiana (yeah--say that again: Bo-GA-Lew-SA). He wrote this song in 1949 and used to feature it at the Caledonia Club in New Orleans. But that isn’t what you’re hearing now. Ten years later he revived it, adding a more rhythm and blues element making the one playing.

When you get to New Orleans somebody will show you the Zulu King.

Today, that King is Professor Longhair himself. He is the Captain of our riverboat, as well as the tour guide, piano player, and card shark at the five-stud table. He invites us on a journey with him as his special guests, forecasting what will become if we just have the nerve to roll on down the river with him, placing our faith in what he has to say about it. He promises with certainty what is going to happen, opting for the infinitive “will” rather than the unsure “may” as verb choice.

Sorry Professor. My bad. Go ahead and whistle for us:

(listen. and maybe dance in your chair a little bit. i’ll wait for you, don’t worry)

Has that whistling ended yet? No? Then stop reading for a second…

(Don’t you just love that a cappella whistling? Hittin’ them high notes like he does?)

Aright, c’mon back to me for the fade out.

Now do yourself a favor: Go back and play this song again from the start, it’s only two and a half minutes long. Only this time play it without reading this. Just replay the tune, turn it up, and get yourself in that Mardi Gras spirit.

I’ll see you in New Orleans.