RR: Fantastic. Let’s talk about now. You’ve got two dates coming up, including a gig at the Brooklyn Bowl, on January 28, which also features Russell Batiste—

LN: Russell Batiste is Zigaboo personified. (laughter) Right now, I’m performing under the marquee name The Meters Experience.

RR: Yeah, you also have Bill Dickens on bass, who played with Janet Jackson, among others, and George Laks, who played with Lenny Kravitz, among others.

LN: I’m just elated that I am able to do these things; actually, to play with the caliber of musicians that I’m going to bring up there. I’m really looking forward to it. Bill Dickens and I, you know, I’ve been wanting to hook up with Bill for years, and finally got a chance this past August and took him out on tour with me. He’s a phenomenal player. We played the NAMM together, we played the NAMM jam at the Mint, and I try not to do nothin’ without Bill Dickens. He’s just a meek and humble person, and a lot of people know him, and a lot of people don’t. I’m hoping him playing with me brings his notoriety out more. I just love playing with him. He plays a seven-string bass. George Laks, of course you know him, he was with Lenny Kravitz and he’s a great player. I’m very excited about playing with Russell Batiste because I remember Russell when he was 8 years old. I need not say too much about Russell; he’s just a phenomenal player.

One thing I want to bring up. There’s somebody that I’m starting to use, and that’s Russell’s younger brother, Jamal Batiste. I’m doing these two dates with him in Chicago. I’m doing Evanston Space in Evanston, Illinois and in Benton Harbor, Michigan at a club called the Livery. I’m also doing a couple of clinics with Bill and Jamal sponsored by a facility called the Music Garage, which is a studio and a musician’s institute.

RR: I’d like to hear your opinion about doing clinics for younger musicians.

LN: Yeah, I haven’t been doing too much, but I’m starting to get a lot of interest in me going around and doing clinics. You know, it’s something that I like to do. I like to teach, and if there’s anything I can pass on to the next generation about the guitar or the music business, I’m always anxious to do that. I’m looking forward to doing more clinics around the country, maybe, around the world because there’s some interest over in Europe about me coming over and performing at those kinds of engagements.

RR: Yes, but isn’t there only so much you can pass on to another musician? Do they have to bring their own creativity, inspiration, will, and motivation to learn? What elements does the modern musician need to play these days?

LN: The only thing I can do is try to initiate an embryonic, try to introduce the beginning, and, maybe, give them as much knowledge I can give for whatever time I have with them. In Chicago, at the clinic at the Music Garage, I’m doing individual classes, as well, and all I can do is try to answer questions that they might have. I would need to do some demonstrations, too, and then let them vibe on that. I think, in order to get to any point, you have to have some kind of spark; to have fire, you have to have some kind of spark to

make it happen. So I was always look at myself as maybe the spark. If I could do that, if I could just be a spark to somebody, where would they go from there? It should be O.K. if they evolve from the spark, if they evolve from there. I think, regardless of how much time I might spend with somebody, if they’re really concentrating, and they really understand the answer that I give them on something that they might want to know, they’ll take it as far as they can take it. It’s like me being with them all the time—understanding what I said, I think, for the rest of their career. I look at it as a thing where whatever I start from the beginning, they take it along with them throughout their career.

RR: When I think of the genesis of a particular career, your original spark was rooted in jazz music and the music of New Orleans.

LN: Yeah, it’s a funny thing, man. That’s an interesting question, and I like answering that because it brings me back to…yeah, I started out listening to jazz—guys like Kenny Burrell, Barney Kessel, Charlie Christian, and a little Wes Montgomery. That was all I wanted to be was to be one of those guys like a George Benson or somebody—a great individual jazz player. Now, you would think that because of my way of thinking that when you start something, that’s usually what you turn out to be, and it wound up being the opposite. Well, not the complete opposite because in some of my playing, there’s still some jazz influences in there. I think that’s what makes Leo.

I think what happened to me is that by being born and raised in New Orleans, comin’ up playin’ in New Orleans, when I was comin’ up, just to survive, most musicians, most New Orleans musicians, had to learn how to play all genres of music. There were some days where I would do three or four gigs in a 24-hour period. I’d do a jazz gig, and I would leave there and do a rock ‘n’ roll gig, and I’d leave there and maybe do a Dixieland gig, then maybe I’d go somewhere and do some R&B, which is funk today, but it was R&B then. So, I think, having the knowledge to do different types of music, informed me by being able to incorporate all those different genres into one particular situation, and into whatever style I play today. I think that’s what makes me seem like I have some type of individualism about myself.

RR: It isn’t just the accumulation of information and musical knowledge. A guitarist needs to find their own unique voice coming from their instrument, and that’s a difficult thing to do now or back then. What are your artistic aspirations? What would you like to accomplish in the future? Do you still wake up and think, ‘You know, I want to do this next time we go out to play,’ or ‘I want to veer the other musicians off into this area’? What drives that force for you?

LN: I think what drives…and you’re right, I still have that. I think what drives it—and I hope people understand this—is the fact that I’m not aware of it. I’m not aware of too much of what happened in the past. It’s hard for me to really look at everything that I’ve done, all the songs that I’ve written, and everything that I’ve accomplished as a musician and a songwriter because it’s all a blur to me. It’s just a big blur. I know it happened, but to actually look at it and say, “Well, you know, I’ve done this, and I’ve done this, and I’ve done this, and let me do something else…”—the fact that it’s a blur to me keeps me grounded to what I was. It doesn’t make me change. I still have the same force, the same energy, to do what I’ve been doin’ for the last 40-some years due to the fact that I don’t remember what I did. (laughs) So I just keep on doin’ it.

I just look at what I did…it’s hard for me to remember writing those songs. Of course, I can remember “Cissy Strut.” I’m not saying literally remember; but, most of it is a blur. I can’t say, “Well, I wrote “Cissy Strut,” let me do something else.” I’ll just continue on doing what I’ve been doing all my life. I remember songs. “Cissy Strut” came up. We were playing a club called the Ivanhoe on Bourbon Street. This is before we were named the Meters, and we were Art Neville and the Neville Sounds, and we used to play this club and every night, we’d open up with the same song called “Hold It.” I got tired of it, so there was a melody that I had been foundering in my head for years, and I decided to show this melody to Art, George, and Zig, and it didn’t even have a name. We just opened up with the song and that would be to open up our set. One night, Allen Toussaint and his partner came in, and asked us if we wanted to record. So we went into the studio, and one of the songs that we recorded was this melody. We still didn’t have a name for it, but we recorded it and finally named it “Cissy Strut.” That came out and sold over 200,000 copies in two weeks. We decided to do a co-op thing and we called ourselves the Meters, and that’s really how it happens.

I’m not saying that I’m oblivious to what I did, but I don’t like to pound on it too much because I always want to be that person. I don’t want to change. That keeps me with the same drive, just as though I was 18 or 20 years old.

RR: And it helps you move forward without being weighted down with the past.

LN: Exactly. I guess that’s a better way to say it. No, I’m not weighted down with that.

RR: You’ve worked with a wide variety of artists from many genres, including Peter Gabriel and Robbie Robertson in various one-off projects, but I also loved another unique group setting you were involved with, the New Orleans Social Club.

LN: The Social Club…I don’t want to say “was,” but still is phenomenal because I’m in hopes that maybe one day that group can get together and start performing again. Playing with those guys—that was a rare assembly, man. There’s a lot of great musicians in New Orleans, man, but that particular group of people—myself, Henry Butler, George, Raymond Weber, Ivan Neville—possessed—they are old enough and young enough—possessed that magic, man, that most groups will never have. We were all on the same page; we all came from the same roofs, the same place, and you can hear it in each individual’s playing, and each individual’s playing all came together in that group, which

made that group a phenomenal group when the music came out. I really enjoyed playing with that group, and I hope that it can be rekindled again one day.

RR: And you gave back to the city at that time, too, post-Katrina, to give it a sense and a reminder of what New Orleans was and still very much is today.

LN: Yeah. There was a lot of opportunities for that group to continue, and to become bigger, and a huge force in the music industry. But, I think what happened, even though we played together and did an individual project, is that everybody is such strong individualists. The individualism kind of separated it, kept it from really gelling, from really melting together, because everybody was doing different things.

RR: It must be really sweet to be up on stage these days, in the moment, look around, and you’ve got Russell, George, and Bill. That’s a pretty strong quartet.

LN: Oh, yeah, yeah. I was careful selecting these guys. I wanted to go out there with these guys that I could depend on to come to my level. That’s always an interesting thing. That’s always important. I’ve noticed I’ve gotten people…and I’m not trying to be braggadocio or egotistical, but I’ve been around a long time, and I feel like I have a lot of confidence in what I’m doing, and I know what I’m doing. To have musicians at a lesser level than you, and in order to make that happen, to click on stage, you have to come down. If you have to come down to another musician’s level, it takes away from you. I’ve been in positions like that. I had to come down to whoever I was playing with. So, this particular group does not. It puts me in a position where they are on my level, or he’s above my level. Preferably, I like playing with musicians that’s above me, where I can, maybe, try to come up to their level, and it can’t do nothin’ but help me. I’m glad to have these guys. I can just do what I want to do. I can be Leo, or, in some instances, I can be better than Leo.

RR: I’m assuming that the band is playing classic material, some covers, and other songs, as well, that are drawn from another place?

LN: Yes, that’s the whole idea. The whole idea of this marquee name is that when they come to see The Meters Experience that’s what they are going to see and hear. They’re going to see music that was done, that I’ve written for the Meters, and, also, new material. It’s hard for me. A lot of people criticize me about…it’s changing now, though, with the Meters. A lot of people criticize me and say, “Leo, if you’re doing your own band, Nocentelli, away from the Meters, why are you playing so much Meters stuff?”

And to be honest with you, Randy, the Meters music is my music. I wrote the music. It’s hard for me. That’s Leo. That’s it. I don’t know how to do anything, but that because that’s me. If I play “Cissy Strut,” that’s my music. That’s Leo. Now, I’ve written new material, but even new material is reminiscent of the stuff that I wrote for the Meters. It’s just newer, that’s all. So, it’s always…whenever you see, whenever you hear The Meters Experience that’s what you’re going to hear. It doesn’t make any difference. It could have Paul McCartney in the band. People will start to beat me up if I don’t get Paul to play (laughter) one of the Beatles songs. I’m exaggerating. It could be Paul McCartney. It could be Keith Richards. The Meters Experience is what you’re going to hear regardless of who is in the band. That’s why there is no definite group of people that I use all the time. I am always trying to mix it up.

I might have Bernie Worrell play with me next time I perform, but it will still be The Meters Experience. I don’t get too much resistance to that, man. Even Bernie Worrell—who is an individualist himself with his P-Funk thing—is willing to play Meters music all night because he likes the music because the music is good. Yeah, playing with those guys and having those guys is really a reward for musicianship, and the fact that they like playing the music because I could have some great guys, some great players, but if they don’t like what they’re playing, it’s going to be academic.

RR: To me, the heart and soul of great music is a collaborative process. I love that you bring different musicians into The Meters Experience and make it work.

LN: Yeah. You just said a very profound statement. Bringing them in is one thing, but making it work is another. Thank you. Thank you for thinking about me. A lot of people sometimes don’t know where I’m at, or even if I’m alive, believe it or not, and it’s always good to get it out there that I’m alive and well, and that I’m still playing, I’m still doing my music, and looking forward to seeing the fans that support me.

Pages:« Previous Page