Adcock hopes there's new energy from stirred-up music

By JOHN WIRT

Lafayette's guitar-wielding swamp rocker, C.C. Adcock, was on the road with former Louisianian Lucinda Williams when Hurricane Katrina smacked New Orleans and the Gulf Coast.
Adcock's tour with the Grammy-winning Williams launched in early September, just days after Katrina struck. That which the hurricane wrought was the prime topic of backstage conversations.

"Lucinda was like everyone," Adcock said last week. "Tons of questions. 'What's going on down there? Tell me what you know, what you saw.' She asked me about friends. And then, of course, the conversations digressed into political and what-to-do conversations. Depending on what day it was, the story kept changing. There were different things to worry about."

All the while, though, Adcock and Williams were more interested in helping those in need than blaming those in power for the mistakes they made before, during and after the storm.

"There'll be time for that," Adcock said. "But why can't one politician just come out and say, 'Hey, here's a list of the ways I screwed up.' That person would more likely get my vote in the future than these people who keep patting each other on the back."

The adjacent lofts Adcock and fellow Lil' Band O' Gold member Dickie Landry inhabit in downtown Lafayette -- dubbed Disgraceland -- became home away from home for displaced musicians and artists, including New Orleans producer Mike Napolitano and his girlfriend, singer-songwriter Ani DiFranco, and members of the Iguanas.

"Yeah, we've had a few guests," Adcock said. "Lots of friends and personalities are stranded or restarting over here or just biding their time before they can get back. People came from both directions, from Texas and New Orleans, depending on what storm was brewing.

"It's been nice to have people around. Sorry about the circumstances. From the art and culture side of it, you can walk up and down Jefferson Street now and there's French Quarter musicians playing in the streets. Dixieland in the streets of Lafayette is funny."

Though many Louisiana musicians are dislodged, Adcock isn't fearful for the music's future.

"It's always changing anyway, cross-pollinating and mutating and transfixing," he said. "I don't think that you can find any definitive reason why it's gonna be for the worst. Any time you stir it up, which literally it has been, it yields positive energy, even out of a negative situation.

"A good example of that is people re-realizing how much their home means to them. They're feeling that strong vibe. For those people who can't get home or have moved on to other places, memories and longing are great fodder for art and music. I think everyone definitely has their hearts slightly opened up."

Adcock, too. He hasn't penned any lyrics that specifically address the events of the past few months, but he has written new music.

"Definitely been writing a lot," he said. "That's because things have been stirred up and those feelings that you're feeling, they come out in notes and melodies."

Though he was on the road with Williams during most of September, Adcock still was surrounded by Louisiana. Every night, at every hotel, he recalled, Louisiana evacuees were finding shelter from the storm.

"Partying and hanging out with those people after the shows," he said. "Comforting each other and reminiscing. I'm really proud to be from Louisiana. I like the way people tell stories. I like telling stories. I like the lifestyle and the hearts of the people."

Adcock never failed to pick Louisianians out from regular Americans.

"They walk different, they look different," he said. "You hear them talk, you seal the deal."

The dispersal of south Louisianians, especially New Orleanians, to cities and towns all over this land gives the nation more flavor, Adcock said.

"The food's gonna start tasting a little bit better in that place, the school kids are gonna be doing a little funkier hopscotch, the music is gonna get a little better. That's the rose-colored glasses view."

Adcock's latest CD is a much-praised roots-music adventure called Lafayette Marquis. The Chicago Sun-Times recently dubbed him a swamp-pop legend. Adcock objects to such a title for himself. As of yet, he said, his name does not rank with Phil "Sea of Love" Phillips, Tommy "Sweet Dreams" McLain, Johnnie "Lonely Days and Lonely Nights" Allan or Baton Rouge's late rock 'n' roll star, John Fred (all of whom Adcock has had the thrill of sharing stages with).

"I can't be responsible for the way Yankee papers talk about south Louisiana music," he said. "It's hard enough for people down here to understand, much less someone thousands of miles away. I don't put myself in the same category as Mr. Phillips, for sure. I won't until I have a big ol' hit record. The minute I do, you won't be able to shut me up. I'll be crowning myself."