The first time I heard John Sinclair perform live was in late January 1993. The grizzled Sixties veteran, poet, author, cannabis activist and founder of the White Panther party, who passed away April 2 at 82, had recently moved to New Orleans after visiting the city for years. The one and only Walter “Wolfman” Washington backed him up with bluesy guitar improvisations.
Over the course of the next ten years while he lived in the city I saw him nearly twenty times in various configurations. Here’s a look back on his tenure in New Orleans. Some words are excerpted from my book Up Front and Center: New Orleans Music at the End of the 20th Century.
Besides beginning to perform in New Orleans on a regular basis, Sinclair quickly established himself as a fixture at the Louisiana Music Factory, introducing bands during in-store performances, in addition to becoming a radio personality on WWOZ. His late night blues and roots show became a favorite of the denizens of the nightlife. Sinclair was also an erudite writer whose work began appearing in OffBeat magazine.
On April 25, 1994, he appeared on the tiny stage at the record store performing his poetry with the drummer Johnny Vidacovich backing him. Sinclair put on a totally insane, over the top show in the early afternoon. It looked like his whole head was on fire and smoke was about to come out of his ears as he screamed over and over at the climax of one of his poems, “Bud Powell, Bud Powell!” Vidacovich amped it up with powerful punctuation on the drums.
Nine months later, the music community threw a massive benefit for Allison Minor, one of the founders of Jazz Fest, at the House of Blues, to help defray the costs of her treatment for cancer. Pianist Willie Tee along with Big Chiefs Monk Boudreaux and Bo Dollis, percussionist Alfred “Uganda” Roberts and guitarist Steve Masakowski recreated the groundbreaking Mardi Gras Indian funk from the 1970s that changed the Black Indian culture forever.
The next act was the Radiators with special guests. They performed a mini five-song set before bassist George Porter, Jr. and Monk Boudreaux joined them for a smoking version of “They All Axed For You.” Then Eddie Bo, a musical hero of the members of the Radiators, joined before Sinclair hit the stage with poetry in hand.
He did his poem, “Tommy Johnson,” while the musicians wailed on the blues classic, “Spoonful”. The performance was intense, only to be outdone by the finale, which featured Kermit Ruffins, trombonist Corey Henry and Monk Boudreaux joining the Radiators on “Jump Back.”
Five years later, the music community returned the favor when a who’s who of local performers appeared at “A Barn-Raising for John Sinclair” at the House of Blues to raise money after a house fire. Some of the performers included Coco Robicheaux, Eddie Bo with Deacon John on slide guitar and Johnny Vidacovich on drums; “Uncle” Lionel Batiste and the Tremé Brass Band with Kirk Joseph and Tuba Fats; Snooks Eaglin backed up by Ed Volker, Camile Baudoin, Reggie Scanlan and Johnny Vidacovich; James Andrews and Trombone Shorty with Michelle Shocked, the Wild Magnolias, John Mooney, Jon Cleary and Ernie K-Doe. The finale was Kermit Ruffins and the BBQ Swingers with special guest John Boutte.
During the Wild Magnolias set, Big Chief Bo Dollis paused the music and gave Sinclair a rare copy of the first Wild Magnolias record and said, “This is to get your collection started again.” It was like a mini-Jazz Fest and showed that the man was really, really loved in this town.
The last time I saw Sinclair perform was at Frenchy’s gallery in 2016 when he was backed up by pianist Tom Worrell and bass drummer Lionel Batiste, Jr. He remained his inimitable self, channeling the blues greats in verse as he invoked the spirits of Muddy Waters and Robert Jr. Lockwood.
I didn’t know him well, but I knew him well enough that he confided in me one of his secrets. While he loved the old, original blues men like they were dear, old friends, he didn’t really like the newer stylists. While I was bemoaning the fact that I didn’t really like Stevie Ray Vaughan even though I had recently heard him at Tipitina’s, Sinclair smiled, laughed his hearty, throaty laugh and replied, “Don’t worry Jay, I never got Clapton.”
Dang this brings up so many incredible memories. Listened to vinyl 1969 MC 5 Kick Out The Jams cranked up then Lennon’s John Sinclair immediately after learning of Brother John’s passing. RIP Brother John!