Telling It Like It Is

On Friday nights in the mid-1950s, black New Orleans teenagers made their way from uptown and downtown to the auditorium of St. Katherine's Catholic Church. For that one night of the week, catechismal imperative was suspended and the youngsters got ready for some rousing swing-out and the more serious slow-drag grinds. It was always groovy to walk into the auditorium on those nights when the Chapaca Chawees were on stage and the quavering, lilting falsetto of Aaron Neville floated toward the entrance.

It was understood then, as it is known now, that something grand was coming from the Nevilles. The understanding became clearer when, as The Hawketts, they had the city dancing to the "Mardi Gras Mambo." The Nevilles had insinuated themselves into the unique tradition of the fabulous culture of New Orleans music, destined to bring their own blend to the gumbo.

Downtown, Fats Domino was "walkin'" toward national recognition. Allen Toussaint had set up his office in a shotgun, wood-frame house, one block east of North Rampart Street, across the street from the Caldonia Club -- where you could check out Shirley and Lee -- and a half block from "The Big Yard." Sessions in the Big Yard were led by Professor Longhair and local legendary guitarists Roy Montrell and "Papoose" -- both of whom became mainstays in the Fats Domino Band. Guitar Slim, Larry Darnell, and Earl King dominated the uptown scene, the genius of James Booker could not be contained, and the Nevilles epitomized the restless energy of Crescent City youth.

For most of the musicians, it was glorious, and plenty of fun -- almost none of them were making much money. In fact, as lyricist/short story writer George Green points out, "There has been so much music in New Orleans for so long, most people take music to play with. It wasn't until the '70s that musicians were asked 'where they worked' instead of 'where they played.'"

"Most of the artists in New Orleans were recording because they loved to sing, but really didn't make much money," Aaron Neville said recently. "For example, 'Tell It Like It Is' was a national hit, but I never got anything but a session payment on that."

But incidents like this did not stop the Nevilles. They continued to go into the studios and record. Allen Toussaint had opened his Seasaint Studio and was the major producer in the city.

"Club owners, record producers, managers, record companies, radio program directors, and booking agents, too, [including Toussaint] are in business to make money for themselves," says Green, "but New Orleans musicians are infected with the fatal idea that these people are in business to help them make money."

AFTER "TELL IT Like It Is," there was not another hit associated with the Nevilles until The Meters did a funky sashay with "Sissy Strut" in the 1970s. The Meters became nationally acclaimed masters of funk. Before The Meters, the Brothers, in various combinations, played in a number of bands -- one of the most notable being Aaron and Cyril's involvement with Sam [Henry] and the Soul Machine. Following the break away from The Meters, Art Neville began an intense drive to infuse the brothers' energy into the making of the Neville Brothers Band. Their first gig was a month at the Bijou Theater in Dallas, Texas.

By 1977 the sound of the Brothers together was crystallizing itself, and they began work on The Neville Brothers album for Capitol. The new sound, moving away from the effort to please the mainstream, seeped through in the mystic New Orleans voodoo tradition in Cyril's composition "Break Away." It was not fully realized, but the sign of change asserted itself again on the album Neville-ization with a revitalization of "Mojo Hannah." Then, on Neville-ization II, the identity, the sound, had come full circle.

But there were still no national hits by 1984 for the Neville Brothers -- even with a cultlike following that had been "Neville-ized." Green observes: "New Orleans music is not to be compared with contemporary popular music, because the difference is what makes it important. The fact that it is different and what make it different dictate that it should be promoted differently."

Perhaps the folks at A&M Records realized this in their promotion of the album Yellow Moon in 1989; coupled, of course, with Elektra's intelligent recording of Aaron Neville and Linda Ronstadt (Cry Like the Rain, Howl Like the Wind). Ronstadt and Neville won a Grammy award as the best pop duo, and the Neville Brothers won for best pop instrumental with a tune from the Yellow Moon album.

Suddenly Aaron's distinct vibrato was again caressing a national audience. Charles Neville's emotional mastery of his instruments (soprano and alto saxophones) was no longer mentioned as an aside. The Neville Brothers were a force to be reckoned with now.

Moon was album of the year in Europe. "Matter of fact," Aaron told New Orleans writer/critic Kalamu ya Salaam, "one of the cuts, 'God on Our Side,' was a big hit over there [in Europe], and they played it at that historical moment when they knocked down the Berlin Wall. A friend of mine sent me all kinds of clips and tapes from over there. He's a member of a group called 'Bananas' -- British Awfully Nifty Aaron Neville Appreciation Society."

While Aaron believes the Europeans are simply interested in good music, "our music doesn't fit into the categories they have for music here in the United States so, as a consequence, they tell us we don't fit into the radio formats." In New Orleans, the irony is that their music rarely gets played on black-oriented radio stations. In that context, the latest Neville Brothers album, Brother's Keeper, may prove to be especially anathema to those stations.

Keeper is the most consistently political album the Neville Brothers have released (see "Lyrics for a New World Order"). For years, Cyril has been cultivating the influence reggae has had on him, mainly through his group, The Uptown All Stars. This political-religious combination is the heart of this very provocative album, although there has been undeniable spiritual content in their past work.

CYRIL'S conscious alternative inclinations go back to the late 1960s when he was associated with the now-defunct Nat Turner Theater and the community self-defense group the Black Liberation Army. That concern for the community is still shown in the Neville Brothers' work with community centers in the city. In 1985 they launched the Hungry and Homeless Benefit. Also, remembering how they had to struggle -- usually unsuccessfully -- with producers and club owners, Cyril has been one of the leading forces in founding New Orleans Musicians Organized, Inc. (NOMO).

"The musicians of New Orleans have been exposed to, but have never been a part of, the music business [because] there has never been a place for them to learn what the business is all about," Green observes. Thus NOMO aims to develop workshops and lecture series, and to involve young musicians in gaining more than just a working knowledge of the business side of the music. NOMO is made up of musicians who have the future in mind, says Green, NOMO's secretary.

There can be no mistaking the fact that the Neville Brothers Band is a family affair. Everyone in the band writes. For example, the title tune of Brother's Keeper was written by Aaron, Joel, Cyril, Art, and Charles Neville, and drummer Willie Green and bass player Tony Hall. This is the way the credits run on most of the tunes. And Neville Productions is also an extended family business.

The legacy continues to grow. Ivan Neville, Aaron's son, was once a vital artery in the band; he is currently working with Bonnie Raitt. Charmaine, Charles' daughter, has one of the best modern jazz bands in New Orleans. They are just a couple of the restless keepers of the flame, perpetuating the authenticity of New Orleans music and the distinctive contribution of the Neville family.

Akinshiju C. Ola was a freelance writer living in Brooklyn, New York and working on a novel at the time this review appeared.

Lyrics For A New World Order

Oh, when you see him walking
Down the street so all alone
His pride is gone, nothing to believe in
Nothing to call his own

Ain't got no one to talk with
Lost, alone, and afraid
Jesus said -- If you love me then you'll feed my sheep --
But like Jesus, we've been betrayed

Gotta be my brother's keeper
Though he be strong or weaker
I gotta lend him a helpin' hand
No matter what his color
Through God he's still my brother
I gotta help him if I can

There go I but for the grace of God
It could even be the Lord (he said he'd come again)
He was refused shelter a long time ago
Let's not be as foolish as they were before

I see institutionalized government ghettos
Where poverty takes its toll
I see drug free zones, while in another part of town,
A young man lies, bleeding in the cold
I see hearts and minds suffocating
As if by God they have been forsaken
While the pillars of Babylon crumble at the foundations
Like the walls of Jericho, they will come tumbling down

­"My Brother's Keeper," by Aaron, Joel, Cyril, Art, and Charles Neville; Willie Green; and Tony Hall. Brother's Keeper. By the Neville Brothers. A & M Records, 1990.