The Nomads have come home! We have arrived in legendary and indestructible New Orleans. Home of the Mardi Gras. Birthplace of the Jazz. Where there's always music in the air. A melody might whisper in the distance, a trumpet may blow in the wind. Everywhere you roam you will find musicality grounded in old rhythms and roots. A childhoods fascination with the syncopated soul of this city finally turns into an encounter with the creative energy that to this day is still unsurpassed by any rival music scene around. Humming a Satchmo solo I stroll from the bright lights of the French Quarter down to the free style jams on Frenchmen street and I feel like a king. A King Creole. So how can this place not feel like home?
From the first moment we hit the scene I already felt like a funky fish in groovy waters. I meet and greet. But most of all am magically greeted like a long lost friend. My fellow Nomad wonders how everybody seems to know me and I guess I must have been living a parallel life here in some dream time universe. Or perhaps there's a twin around somewhere. In any case at some point I simply feel like I've never lived anywhere else and this must be my home town. Funny how the music and sounds I have always adored seem so omnipresent here that it makes a Nomads travel appear like a hip shaking King Creole's home coming.
If it is music you love than New Orleans must be in your itinerary.
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This stop of my musical pilgrimage allowed me to touch the holy ground of Congo Square where Jazz was born and a Nomad still has the square's pebbles to commemorate the occasion.
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