Experiences, observations of a Cajun living in NYC
Playground inside Central Park
This is the 27th installment of Cajun Tomato’s NYC 100, a periodic series chronicling my observations and insights as a new New Yorker. Tonight I wrote about a winter wonderland in Central Park. You can read previous dispatches here.
My first winter in New York City has featured precious little snowfall. An inch here, an inch there. Certainly no blizzards. Not that I’m complaining. A bayou boy like myself doesn’t need snow to survive. He needs sunshine.
Photo credit: Cajun Tomato
My adventures in live music in 2012 started like me, in Portland, and finished 3,000 miles east in New York City. In between, I spent three incredible, and incredibly hot, days and nights at Coachella, where I witnessed a who’s who of A-list artists and up-and-comers.
I started writing concert reviews on the Cajun Tomato in 2010 as a means to wed two of my favorite pasttimes. This year, I posted 42 reviews, with assists from correspondents in Portland (Scott) and Chicago (Brett). These reviews continue to provide me enjoyment, and thus I plan to review even more concerts in 2013 – Mayan Apocalypse, be damned.
Below are my favorite 2012 concerts. Each wrapped me in a coat of awe, whether through their visual spectacle, sound, or both. That’s why I go to concerts – to feel a sense of wonder and tap into something beautiful and raw. Enough romanticism. List time!
Smoke yo sorrows away!
NOTE: It’s an exciting day on this site. The Olympics have started … I mean, my friend Laura McKnight penned her first piece for this site, and it’s a good one. Laura wrote about New Orleans institution Hubig’s Pies burning down in the early morning hours on Friday near her house. She also provided photos. Talented lady, that Laura McKnight.
I’m a pretty big fan of most South Louisiana specialties – crawfish, Abita beer, Zapp’s potato chips, king cake, Bourgeois beef jerky, etc., etc. – but there are a few things that make me feel like a traitor to my roots: I rather my coffee without chicory, I’m ambivalent about oysters, and I’m pretty sure I have never in my life eaten a sugar-glazed Hubig’s Pie.
That’s right. I have never eaten a Hubig’s Pie, not even with the factory sitting on the next block from my house. I walk past that factory almost every day, often multiple times a day, sometimes catching a whiff of fried sweetness in the air, and I have not tasted one. They just never tempted me, not even with the happy little baker man smiling at me from the front of the bags.
So I don’t even know if I like Hubig’s Pies. But I like the idea of Hubig’s Pies. I dig the happy retro logo, I dig the fried-ness, and I really like living on a block nestled between a cheerful pie factory and the Lost Love Lounge. There’s a metaphor for my life somewhere in that.
A little background for the unfamiliar, and some would say unfortunate: Hubig’s is one of those uniquely New Orleans/South Louisiana icons like K&B, Mr. Bingle, the Special Man on the Frankie and Johnny’s commercials. Hubig’s history in New Orleans goes back to 1921, the factory on Dauphine Street to 1924. Flappers were eating these pies while doing the Charleston.
And like anything uniquely New Orleans, especially anything retro that can be screen-printed onto a T-shirt or made into a group Mardi Gras costume, Hubig’s has a fiercely loyal following. I mean diehard fierce, as in this fire at the pie factory is nothing short of a catastrophe.
Cover your eyes!
NOTE: The Timbers Army chants juvenile, R-rated things from time to time. If you are offended by such expressions then I recommend A) you not stand with the Timbers Army and B) read one of my hundreds of other posts. Thanks!
I stood with the Timbers Army Saturday night when the Portland side hosted the Vancouver Whitecaps inside Jeld-Wen Stadium. The match marked my first time in a year seeing Portland’s Major League Soccer team play.
For the record: I don’t consider myself a Timbers fan or an MLS fan, in general. I couldn’t tell you the Timbers record. I do, however, enjoy the rowdy nature of their crowds. The Timbers Army reminds me of a more harmonious, less plastered New Orleans Saints crowd.
I forgot over the past 12 months the Timbers Army could make a sailor in a whorehouse blush with its inventive use of profanities in song.
Here are some of the Timbers Army songs I heard Saturday, plus photos I took while there. The match ended in a 1-all draw. Both teams scored in the second half.
You gotta hold on!
When Alabama Shakes frontwoman Brittany Howard goes for it, her mocha-colored face contorts into a pained, scrunched-up mass of lines, and her glasses hang on for dear life from the edge of her nose. Her massive tongue shows. And out … out explodes this booming, smoky howl that recalls an old soul dressed in a 23-year-old southerner’s skin.
Howard doesn’t care what she looks like when she’s singing. I respect her willingness to “get ugly with it.” All that matters is the sound, the emotion, the feeling.
My friend Matt and I had the pleasure of standing two rows from the stage Sunday when Howard and Co. blessed the Tom McCall Waterfront Park stage in Portland. I’ll be posting a review of the show shortly, but for now here are pictures I took while at the show.
Every marathon needs cheerleaders
I woke to the kind of whooping and hollering you would expect to hear at a Justin “Swaggy Adult” Bieber concert. I could tell it was from a distance, but it was too loud for me to go back to sleep. Little did I know this was happening.
Outside, a stampede of runners (and walkers) passed my house amid wet, chilly conditions that recalled a late January day. They passed in silence. Where did the noise come from then?
Coachella’s final day provided a mix bag on the photo front. Shows where I was virtually the same distance from the stage (i.e., Wild Beasts and Real Estate) offered wildly different photo possibilities due to the lighting situation.
Later shows offered great opportunities for candid shots off the big screen but few true close-ups due to lighting and distance. Though I did sneak a few close-ups in during The Weeknd’s set.
Below are pictures from Sunday’s sets at Coachella. I also encourage you to read my Sunday recap and listen to my Sunday playlist.
Kerry and I did not get close to the stage for many shows on Saturday at Coachella. I blame the flank steak.
Hence, I did not take many good photos. It did not help either that I did not charge my camera beyond 50 percent of its battery.
Maybe this is a good thing because after I posted My Coachella Friday photo recap I accidentally shut down my site by exceeding bandwidth. Womp womp womp!
Click below for my Saturday Coachella pics (i.e., far away pics of Thom Yorke)
One of my favorite things about attending festivals is taking pictures. I do not subscribe to the philosophy that you must lose yourself in the music at all times. No, I want to lose myself in the music and take pictures so that I can remember the event long after the music has faded.
The first day of Coachella provided some sweet picture-taking opportunities. I was close to the stage for shows by GIVERS, GIRLS, and WU LYF. For later shows like Frank Ocean and M83, I was probably a good 200 feet from the stage, not to mention darkness had descended on the polo grounds.
Below are my favorite pictures from Friday of Weekend 2. Also, you can read my Friday recap here.
[Read more...]
Vitamin C packed snow
I named this post PDX Snowpocalypse 2012 in jest. Portland received three inches of snow Tuesday — hardly a snowpocalypse, when compared to the 11 inches that fell in Washington’s state capital, Olympia.
Except to a bayou kid, like myself, it was a big event. I experienced a few pellets of snow two or three times living in south Louisiana, including once on Christmas. My grandparents in North Carolina lived near the mountains but it seldom snowed when I visited. Portland went snowless last winter, aside from a stray inch or two.
So, yes, Tuesday’s event was cause for excitement, even if earlier in the day I had cursed the prospect of snow. As it fell Tuesday night, the chalky streets of north Portland were eerily quiet. Japanese exchange students built a snowman a few blocks from my house. Street kids at a nearby bar hurled snowballs at a city transit bus. Anarchy, it was not.
Below are photos I took while wandering around with my roommate, Garret. He took the photo of me. All photos were taken using the Hipstamatic app on my iPhone.
I am a 27-year-old journalist living in NYC. Prior to that I lived in south Louisiana and Portland. I blog about music, New Orleans Saints and LSU football, and what it's like to be a Cajun living in the fast-paced world of NYC.
Feel free to send any questions, comments, music submissions, etc. to my email below. Also, check me out on social media!
Facebook: CajunTomato
Twitter: CajunTomato
Email: raybaybay3@gmail.com