HAPPY HOUR is a cocktail-fueled 60 minutes of random conversation with folks who have nothing in common, other than being New Orleanians in a bar. Featuring extraordinary New Orleans musicians playing live, host Grant Morris and sidekick deluxe Andrew Duhon.
At the end of this show Andrew Duhon declares that these are the best guests in the history of Happy Hour. If you're a Happy Hour listener or familiar with Andrew's songs you'll know that he's not prone to effusiveness. Quite simply, this is indeed a fascinating collection of New Orelanians.
Donny and Boyfriend had never met each other before they sat down together for Happy Hour. They couldn't be more different - they're from different generations, Donny is from New York, Boyfriend is from Nashville, Donny is Jewish, Boyfriend grew up in a severely fundamentalist Christian home. And yet they have more in common than you could ever guess.
They are both superbly talented songwriters.
Donny is famous for writing one of the pop love song classics of all time, "I've Had The Time of My Life" from the movie Dirty Dancing.
Boyfriend is about to be famous for sex-driven rap songs like "Attention" and "Triangle." You can hear both those songs in this show. Remember where you were when you heard them - the early music press comparisons of Boyfriend to other female greats like Alanis Morisette, Bette Midler and Carol Burnett (if you can imagine that mashup) are not unfounded.
Cindy Alsfeld lives in the proximity of greatness and the fact that she's not a household name like her politician mother or movie star sister doesn't make her any less awesome than either of them. Cindy's mom is New Orleans icon Jackie Clarkson and her sister is actress Patricia Clarkson. Being born with the same genes but without the desire for the spotlight is, in Cindy's case, a liberating blessing. It's great for us too: it's unlikely that Jackie or Patricia would come down to Wayfare on a Thursday afternoon and hang out with Grant and Andrew for an hour for a free drink, but Cindy is up for anything.
Andrew rolls out a version of his new song about a window sill lined with nostalgic memories: pieces of stone that, like his wandering life from which they are gathered, are fragments broken off of pieces of far-flung permanence that, unlike the lives of others, seem to refuse to bind themselves into a foundation upon which to build his own life. It's a beautiful song. Although he didn't include himself, Andrew might have in his observation of the extraordinary talent and intelligence of today's guests.