Eclectic Company: Begorrah, It’s Stellar

I got word through Facebook that Scenic Roots, that fabulous bluegrass and old timey sister duo would once again be playing at Stellar Beans, this time for a night concert in support of their new album, Grounded, and I had a real pang of disappointment when I realized I’d be 1500 miles away, and nowhere else on the sisters’ route any time soon. I told you months ago how much I enjoyed Amber’s and Erin’s performance, which overran their scheduled hour-and-a-half lunchtime gig and covered the waterfront of acoustic music genres (and which the duo with their dad and a few others faithfully recreated for a very nice EP, Bound For Somewhere, that is still revolving in my iTunes favorites playlist). Well I was bound to miss this tour, but not the new music, which I would love to tell you about, but can’t this week because it hasn’t made it back into the house (or onto my computer) from the car so remind me to catch you up on that in a few.

But that puts me in mind of how much I love Stellar Beans, and have yet to find its counterpart in my New York neighborhood. The Smiths have done a tremendous job of bringing café culture to Broad Street, and I fall right into the place every time I come home to Lake Charles. Part coffeehouse a la Friends and part coffee shop a la Frasier, the Beans is an airy, comfy lounging spot, with couches and sink-into chairs, wifi, and a lending library of books and magazines, not to mention terrific coffee drinks and light meals (I’m partial to the breakfast croissant, their muffins, and the fresh fruit), as well as gatherings (Bayou Writers’ group meets regularly, and others I don’t recognize do too), events, and a visual art smorgasbord on the walls curated by Valerie Noland Smith, a fine photographer herself. Melinda Cormier and Candice Alexander are just two of our very talented local artists whose works grace the Beans. Check it, and them, out.

Not too long ago, I fell into the Beans when Irish musicians Danny O’Flaherty and Noel Nash played there, and they were charming, playing and singing together and separately, teasing themselves and us gently in a sweet almost old-worldly way. There were no blue jokes, but don’t think this was kiddie fare – despite the presence of a large contingent of families with kids of many ages – there were political, religious and double entendre references aplenty. And my POSSLQ and I had a great time listening, clapping, and singing along with the rest. It’s understandable, given that I’m a great lover of “the craic” – Gaelic for “laisser les bon temps roulez” or the homelier “pass a good time” – and I always love to hear Irish music, by which I mean a wide variety of songs, tunes, and the stories and jokes that stitch the music together into a performance. But even if you had no knowledge beforehand of Irish music or Irish jokes, in the packed but not jammed setting of Stellar Beans, you too would have felt that the O’Flaherty-Nash evening was magical.

O’Flaherty’s too much a regular visitor to Lake Charles to need much of an introduction, but if you’re just coming out of a 10-year coma, I’ll mention that Danny O’Flaherty first brought us a successful celtic concert or two and then a full-blown festival, and then following the Hurricanes, came to spend more time with us, including touring to and through the area. I missed most of those productions being out of town or otherwise engaged, and so before the Stellar Beans night, I hadn’t heard him in a long time, certainly not since he ran his own club, its two halves bisected by a between-the- buildings alleyway, in New Orleans’ French Quarter. I’d never before heard Noel Nash, but am now a fan of his light expressive voice and firm guitar hand. As a duo, they sang harmonies and shared stories of their travels on the road, and pulled in influences from all over the musical map.

Sometime during the evening, Nash told this joke in his soft Kerry accent, and my POSSLQ got it down almost perfectly: “Somewhere back in the bayous of Ireland stood a small dark church with a new priest. The priest noted the darkness and proposed to the Parish Council that they raise money for a new chandelier. The council withdrew to consider the question; when they returned, the head of the council addressed the new priest. ‘We know you are acting in good faith, Faither, but there are three things we must consider. First, none of us has ever seen a chandelier in our lives, and we don't know what kind of instrument it is. Second, none of us knows how to play the chandelier. And most important, Faither, what the church really needs is more light.’” I laughed until my stomach ached.

O’Flaherty’s an entertainer, pure and simple; but wherever he goes, whatever blarney he’s pitching, there’s a holistic form to his performances on banjo or guitar, singing solo or in a duet, including many songs I learned as a child at summer camp (check out the nonsense song “The Court of King Caractacus” for a sample), and some moving numbers that he’s picked up on his travels, including from his current work, Spirit of Freedom, with songs about the American Revolution. Watching O’Flaherty with Nash, I was transported back to late nights in the New York bar, The Lion’s Head, owned, for a time, by those international Irish stars, The Clancy Brothers, who would on occasion turn up after a gig, and sitting around the big round oak table in back, sing slow sad songs learned at mother’s knee, and tell tall tales of Irish shlemiels and shelmazels (two forms of Yiddish losers), as they clanked pints of porter and toasted long-gone friends. That night, O’Flaherty and Nash were a two-man Clancy Brothers. I can’t possibly praise any performance more highly.