I understood the vibe of New Orleans music when I felt the city’s heat and humidity.

In late April 1979 I was playing drums outdoors at the University of New Orleans with Chicago blues pianist/singer Sunnyland Slim. It was a Friday afternoon and we enjoyed a good-sized college crowd.

On Sunday we would perform a set at the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival’s Blues Tent. We ended up playing four sets in different locations over three days including one in the French Quarter at a Bourbon Street club.

From the DeMark archives.

The heat enveloped me. When I experienced it I knew deep down why the music vibes like it does. I thought the high humidity in New Orleans helps create the Louisiana languid feel in the grooves.

Since 1975 I’d been studying vintage and modern New Orleans rhythm and blues and second-line music. My good friend and musical colleague Harry Duncan had become co-manager of the legendary New Orleans R&B and funk band The Meters in 1975. He booked us for the New Orleans dates and played harmonica and sang with Sunnyland.

Harry was giving me vinyl records of brilliant Louisiana artists including The Meters, Professor Longhair, Dr. John, Jessie “Oop Poo Pah Doo” Hill, Irma Thomas and Earl King. He started bringing some New Orleans acts to Bill Graham’s Old Waldorf Club in San Francisco in the mid-1970s. I’d travel five hours from Humboldt County to the Bay Area to see these artists and learn from the drummers.

I loved the extraordinarily relaxed musical feel of songs like Huey “Piano” Smith’s “Rockin’ Pneumonia and the Boogie Woogie Flu” and the rhumba “Hey Now Baby” by pianist/singer Professor Longhair. It was different from the edgy Chicago and East Coast blues I’d listened to.

My brothers Jeff and Mike drove to New Orleans from Madison, Wisconsin to see me play and enjoy the festival. It was the first time any of us had been to New Orleans and the Jazz Fest.

Following the afternoon college show, we bought tickets for an evening concert on the S.S. President, a large steamboat that traveled up and down the Mississippi River during the concerts it hosted.

The lower deck featured a large stage and dance floor for concerts. On the bill Friday night for the Blues Boat Boogie were Etta James, Buddy Guy and Junior Wells, Bobby “Blue” Bland and New Orleans pianist/singer Professor Longhair – all major rhythm and blues artists we loved. The mood on board felt festive and sometimes ecstatic fueled by the exciting music.

My brother Jeff remembered it as one of his top five concerts of all time. I agreed. It was like nothing we had ever experienced because of the setting. After one of the sets, we’d go on to the top deck in the warm night to watch – and feel – the boat floating down the Mississippi.

”I remember smoking a joint with you on the top deck,” my brother Mike recalled. “Then we walked down to the stage to hear Longhair kicking off his set with Ray Charles’ ‘Mess Around.’ ”

I remembered that rollicking piano song well. Longhair was considered the king of New Orleans pianists at the time and he delivered.

The next day I hung out at the festival with my brothers and Harry. It was located on the infield of the city’s large Fair Grounds Race Track. This was the Jazz Fest’s 10th anniversary, still a relatively young festival. The acts were mostly local and regional mixed with nationally known R&B and jazz headliners. The Fest stretched over two weeks at various venues, including the fairgrounds, city concert halls and nightclubs.

Unlike the 2026 Jazz festival, which drew an estimated 425,000 paid attendees for The Eagles, Rod Stewart and Stevie Nicks, the first festival in 1970 had about 350 audience members. By 1979 there were tens of thousands.

There were probably eight stages and three or four tents with music — Gospel, Blues, Traditional Early Jazz and more. The music was diverse: cajun, zydeco, Texas and Chicago blues, Mardi Gras Indian second line, New Orleans R&B, bebop, early swing and country.

There were some eccentric Louisiana acts we loved like Bongo Joe, who played a large oil drum with soft mallets, and Ironing Board Sam, playing his electric piano on top of the board or in front of his chest using shoulder straps. Jeff remembered Sam wearing a wig that kept falling off his head.

The food on the fairgrounds was a smorgasbord of local cuisine – gumbo, jambalaya, poor boy sandwiches and alligator. All of it was delicious except I couldn’t bring myself to try the alligator. The food throughout the city delighted me and my brothers, including pecan waffles at the Camellia Grill, red beans and rice at Buster Holmes’ restaurant and the sugary beignets with chicory coffee at Café du Monde.

On Saturday night the Sunnyland Slim Band played the famous Tipitina’s nightclub, named after a Longhair song. I recall a relatively small stage. The club featured a restaurant serving tasty gumbo which I ate while sitting on a low red stool at an old-fashioned diner counter. Funky and down home.

The great Texas guitarist, violinist and singer Gatemouth Brown kicked off the show around 10 playing his fiery blend of Texas swing and blues. We were scheduled to play a 90-minute set of Sunnyland’s Chicago blues starting at midnight followed by the Neville Brothers. Harry was now managing the Nevilles with a New Orleans native business partner, Rupert Surcouf.

I asked a stagehand how the Nevilles could start at 2 a.m., which was when bars closed in California. “Brah,” he said, “clubs are open all night during the festival.”

I didn’t get a lot of sleep that weekend, but I was 27 and my body could handle it. We were staying in a nice hotel for four nights, paid for by the festival, so I could sleep in a little late.

Gatemouth played a fine set of Texas country, swing and blues. The joint was hopping with dancers. Sunnyland’s Chicago blues set was well received. The Neville’s played an incendiary show of their second line/R&B music in their home city until after 4 in the morning.

I felt incredibly lucky to play the iconic Tipitina’s club in its younger days. It is now collectively owned by a popular New Orleans funk band, Galactic. I’ve watched videos of the changed club and it looks nothing like it did in 1979. It’s an upgraded music venue and reportedly doing well.

On Sunday, we played on the festival grounds under the Blues Tent. It was a medium-sized one – a cozy affair with people seated on metal chairs shielded from the hot sun. We had the honor of having the quiet Charles Neville, one of the brothers, playing alto saxophone with us.

The sound system was not loud. We didn’t hurt the audience’s hearing. When there is an acoustic piano on stage, the band needs to play quieter for it to be heard by the audience and musicians. This was obviously prior to in-ear monitors for musicians. Our five-piece band kept it on the down-low and people liked the volume.

When I returned to Jazz Fest in 2018 as part of a DeMark family reunion, I barely recognized the place. It had vastly outgrown the confines of the large horse-racing track. When I walked into the event, I was stunned by the massive crowd and how much the grounds had changed.

”Do you remember what it was like in ’79?” Jeff asked me. I told him I didn’t recognize it. “All the stages sat on the edge of the race track facing in,” he said. “It was so small compared to now.”

My son Julian and daughter Marcella were with me watching The Talking Heads’ David Byrne perform from at least 100 yards away. We turned to look at a huge video screen to see the musicians better. It was not my idea of a satisfying concert experience.

I wandered over to the Blues Tent, which was now huge compared to ’79. I stood at the back because the volume was ear splitting. The Gospel Tent was also much bigger and louder than it was 39 years ago. No thanks. I preferred protecting my hearing.

After playing in the Blues Tent with Sunnyland in ’79, I wandered over to an outdoor stage where Irma Thomas, known as the Soul Queen of New Orleans, was performing. I started dancing to her soulful grooves.

Lisa, a New Orleans native, began dancing with me. We were about the same age and hit it off. I was as carefree groovin’ as I’d ever been dancing to Irma Thomas with a good-looking Southern woman under the warm Louisiana sun.

Lisa invited Harry and me to come to her birthday party the next day at her parents’ beautiful, six-bedroom home with a swimming pool near Lake Pontchartrain.

We were lucky I met Lisa since our free hotel rooms ended Sunday night. On Monday afternoon we were lounging next to the pool with Lisa when Harry’s partner Rupert Surcouf came walking down the sidewalk.

”Paul, I’m impressed. I didn’t know you had that kind of juice, brah, to make this happen,” Rupert said. “I guess I’m just lucky,” I answered.

We stayed with Lisa for two nights, letting the good times roll until we flew back to California a couple of days later.

I was fortunate to have played and experienced New Orleans at that time. It was all roots American music, great food, cool people and was hot and humid. I dug it all.

###

Thank you to my editor Pam Long and to Julian DeMark for photo scanning.