While I appreciate the traffic here, just wanted to let you know I'm now on Substack.  You can find me here. https://substack.com/@dustanlouque

Who knows how long I'll keep creating, sometimes I feel like this last batch of songs from my Woodstock Session will be my last.  It feels weird to say it, but it might very well be true.  It's an up and down situation.  Sometimes I see my lane and I'm cool with it and at other times I am disgusted with how the system is working for musicians.  

Hope this finds you well.  I'm not down with how the country feels at the moment.  Right now lady liberty looks like a desperate housewife of insecure asshole.  

On Jamestown Island

 

Good morning from Jamestown, RI.  This is me in my happy place.  A morning coffee, some reading and my new little friend Freddie.  Little Freddie Boy!  From the song....the new Christmas song for this year that is still taking shape.  I love being in Jamestown.  It's where I've felt really appreciated and seen over the years at the Krause family property.  They are doers and get things done and have built quite a life for themselves here over the past 10 years.  

Years after I was dropped by Atlantic Records and my manager, I was living in New Orleans and working a day job out in the country and still making records and getting a few songs into film and television.  I worked from 7:30-4, drove home to New Orleans, worked a few hours restoring an old house, showered then lit a fire and grabbed my guitar.  Music has been my safe place where I go to make some sense of this ball we stand on.  In these times, Jeremy Krause would call me to introduce himself.  He was enthusiastic about my records and offered much needed energy from miles away.  It's weird being a writer and being inspired with a new project idea.  You're alone with it and no one cares if you get to it or not because they don't know it yet.  People don't know the kind of militant drive it takes to complete a project on your own with no label, manager or dead lines.  Sports gave me great drive and I have always applied it to art.  

But back to Jamestown.  I met Jeremy and Jami in Providence, RI in 2014 when I first got the van and hit the road.  I was playing in an art space and I saw this couple eyeing me with the most caring eyes.  They offered me food and a key to their house right away.  That tour I only had 4 dates on the calendar, one with Nels Cline and the rest solo.  It was nice to be seen and appreciated.  It was why I hit the road.  To see and meet the folks that write me and say such kind words.  

I was telling Jeremy's mom Jan last night,  that when I started this tour I was coming out of having my head buried in the ground like an ostrich.  I was busy renovating our kitchen and working on other houses and playing guitar at night to get ready for tour.  I bought a small stool because I have been preferring to sit part of the show but over time it has made me feel like I'm still hiding.  The Krause's for some reason give me energy and now I want to stand.  

Others make me want to stand as well.  Dustin and Alicia in Elkridge, Md are our new friends.  They had us play in The Elkridge Assembly Room and it was quite heavy for me because this place was dedicated as a meeting place for both sides after the Civil War. On show day, I was staring off and Margaret asked what was wrong.  I was concerned on what the tone should be on stage that night.  I want to still feel that music and art can make a difference but as I grow older, I doubt it but the songs come like an army marching resiliently.  They make me different.  I'm more of a person that wants to hide and be quiet and live creatively but the songs require me to have a certain strength and certainty.  

But I do feel like my circumstances all these years have shaped me and given me confidence to stand in the moments of our time and articulate a simple truth.  The Brooklyn show felt so good to stand in front of my friends Mac and Adrianna on New York soil and put my sword in the ground.  Margaret had her head buried in the mic and we were dialed in the whole time.  

And then it was off to Huntington and the love of the Gordons.  Every place feels like going home for Christmas.  We met a new friend Todd at our friend Zack's band Revivalist show.  He came to our show at Treiber Farm and we played to a small crowd.  We play the same no matter the size of the crowd but I couldn't help but think what Todd was thinking as the last time when we met him, the crowd was roaring and there were 2,000 people cheering for Zack.  Afterwards we had oysters by the fire and wine and he told me of his battles with cancer and the mood was nice.  There was an appreciation of life as it is vibe with him.  Our path is really micro but we have some really special connections that seem to grow every time we come out.  Perhaps I'm writing this to remind myself when I get home and get busy thinking that no one cares and the television talking heads have worn me down.  I have to soldier on.  Met Giovanni at our Treiber Farm show and he had us over to his winery the following day and told us his story.  It was lovely and perhaps someday I'll talk about it.  

I'm very excited to hit the stage tonight in Jamestown.  Our friends just bought a new house and the property is beautiful and they are already talking about next year.  It feels good to come here.  I rest and know that I am seen.  I think that's what I want more than anything.  Something is coming through and I need to cut through the noise.  Little Freddie offers me much comfort.  The bridge to this years Christmas song "Magic Socks" says, "I'll shed a little light on the world stage tonight.....I'm gonna burn my television". 

Relax And Read More

 

I had a great day in New Orleans yesterday.  After a cup of coffee, I drove my friend Charles of The Bomb Factory in New Orleans to pick up a project for a new client.  The project was a 1990 BMW e30 M.  An old song, or a scent can take one back to specific times in their life and so can a car.  Just the simple sound of hearing the door opening and closing reminded me of my college years, going to New Orleans for the small New Wave/Goth club scenes.  We'd listen to The Smiths, The Sundays, Cure, Depeche, you name it on the drive over Lake Ponchartrain.  My brother never wanted to make the drive home so I usually drove home. No one was on the interstate at 2 in the morning, so I fly home and that little engine made some serious music.  It stuck with me for a long time and the reason I'm a big BMW fan til this day.  I got something a little more modern, an 07 but still has some traces of the e30.  

I won't bore you with car talk but maybe I can talk about balance.  Though my music career is not exactly what I thought it would be, I'm starting to feel like I'm in a good place because I have balance in my life.  I'm playing golf again, into cars again, I own a house and I'm not getting bullied around by music managers and label people.  I made huge sacrifices for years in the hopes of things leveling off and my finances to get better to do the things I love.  People often ask me where am I, get out there but I've just been balancing things out and making this path work for me.  I think it's important.  

Yesterday, I took a nap on a hammock which is rare for me and at the end of the day while loading up the car, I went over to see my friend Steve Gleason.  I hadn't seen him in a while and it was good to reconnect.  He played the song I wrote for him "Medicine Man" the whole time I was there.  It kind of made me feel like I'm doing things right.  This kind of connection is what I'm after.  In these times, I'd rather be useful than famous for making noise.  

Embracing The Obstacles To Find Your Way

Lately, a lot of my fellow musician friends that I have worked with over the years have reached out when they are playing in New Orleans and I have been saying yes to their offers to come hang out.  From The Saenger Theatre to Tipitina's and many of my favorite New Orleans venues I'd love to play, I went to hang out and reconnect.  When I'm back stage and I hear the rumblings of the crowd, it takes me back to my beginning.  

In New York, right after we finished So Long I began to learn how to play live and before I played a handful of shows there was a huge crowd and a label and all the things that come with it.  I handled it though and expected myself to handle it no matter who was in the audience.  

I remember playing at The Hammerstein Ballroom in New York.  My parents had flown in to see me.  I met them outside and showed them to their private seats in the Opera balcony.  When I went back stage, I climbed way up over the ballroom and looked down below.  I was wondering what they were thinking.  I was very glad to be giving them this moment as they had always worked so hard to give us opportunities to grow and prosper.  

The picture above is from our last back yard show here in Lafayette.  We do between 2-4 of these in the spring and in the fall.  The weather here gets really humid and makes it difficult to produce these events, but these nights are really special and we have really found a loving audience here.  

This past week I finally got back into my recording studio and looked into the material we recorded in Woodstock two years ago.  I have resisted making my own records lately as the attention spans have changed over the past 5 years.  I still love the format of a full album concept and still prefer to work in that capacity.  I don't want to be a content creator with a slow drip of singles.  At this point, song writing is easy and is a steady drip because I have chosen the path of integrity and didn't sell out.  I love playing small, private shows but would love to work with a booking agent to build my career in small theatre's like The Saenger or even get back to The Bowery Ballroom.  There I said....I put it in the universe.  

 

If You Must Know

 

I'm fucking bored.  I'm horrified with this modern life of idiocy.  I sometimes hate music, most of it seems like attention getting spectacles and fizzes out like a sparkler.  Nothing sticks, just bedazzles and flips off of your grand piano and sings you a tacky song in tights.  Are you fucking kidding me?!  I'm so tired of being Mr. Nice Guy.  

I remember kissing Oscar Wilde's grave.  A reverence for a bygone era.  Of course they were blessed with their own collection of idiots and rulers.  You'd think we would have learned by now and not be repeating the past with no expression of our own.  Everything feels like a well curated Instagram to build tourism.  I'm so tired.  Thanks for listening.  I used to put all this into song.  I just don't feel like adding to the noise anymore.  I'll figure out how to get up tomorrow I guess.  I'm searching for something new.  I despise doing what the others are doing. Just what the hell are they doing?

"An Impossible Journey"

 Last week we drove to New Orleans to see a friend of ours play a concert at The Saenger Theatre.  I texted Nels Cline to see if he could put us on his guest list for the show and after party and he responded with a quick thumbs up.  How did this life happen to me, I thought.  

During the show they were in the middle of playing "Impossible Germany" when Nels just disappeared as he played the guitar solo.  How does he do that?!  My mind wandered and thought back about my journey to this night.  I was thinking of the 3 year period in Brooklyn where I dedicated myself to becoming an artist and learning all the things to make my first record "So Long".  Seriously, I did not grow up playing music and I had the audacity to think that I could do it.  I did have something powerful trying to come through and I needed a vehicle or a canvas to set it free.  Childhood tragedy and nothingness turned me into a raging wannabe artist and I put myself in front of the work and just powered through, night after night, day after day.  It added up.  It was the hardest, most insecure years of my life up until that point.  It felt foreign, everything was new.  

The record came out really good and we stumbled onto our sound.  It was fresh and combined many kinds of music we loved.  Although, at this time, I had let go of my love for New Wave and was exploring a more roots kind of sound.  We began to make our home made packaging with the brown paper from banana boxes.  My daily routine would be going to the the cafe ordering a coffee from the dude Kyp from TV On The Radio and then hitting all the bodega's for the brown paper to make record covers.  We made so many of these records and stuffed the CD in it and sent them off into the world.  

It didn't take long until we got word that our little record was buzzing and gaining traction in places like Toronto and right there in ole New York where we were living.  It wasn't exactly a buzz in my neighborhood in Williamsburg but more a buzz in the music industry, which I guess was better.  My friend John Ellis was on tour with Charlie Hunter and Norah Jones before she became a star.  John was always super sweet and took me serious as I began my quest to make music.  When he got home from tour we sat and listened to the whole record and when it was over he said, "how the hell did you do it?"  A guy named Sean was their tour manager and Norah's manager at the time and he loved the record and wanted to manage me to help me get started.  It didn't take long before he led me to another manager and we began to really put together a live show.  Think about it.  I had just made my first record and never played a live show.  I had a lot to learn.  The buzz was buzzing and folks wanted to see me live.  I guess that's why I titled this one "Impossible Journey", cause it sure felt that way.  

And then out of the blue, the whole band boards a plane to Nashville with only 10 songs to play Bonnaroo music festival.  As the van approached there were huge lines of folks waiting to get in.  We went in through the artist entrance, onto the artist lounge area.  My stomach was in knots, but I was excited when I stepped out of the van.  There was an excitement in the air, with a crowd gathering and there he was Mr. Bob Dylan, just hanging out.  Tweedy and Dave Matthews were talking to him and Danny Clinch was around with his camera.  He was about to do a photo session with me before my show.  How the hell did I get here?!

 

This American Life

 In 2008, after traveling around making my second record "Louque The Drifter", I met up with Josh Werner in Williamsburg, Brooklyn with a handful of guitar songs. Post 911, New York and America went right on sipping their lattes and life went on as politicians lined their pockets. One couldn't unsee the horrors of that day in September if you were there. All we could do is create and express the inexpressible.

At this point, I had made "So Long" which was very loop based and very Trip Hop/Groove heavy. And then with "Louque The Drifter" I was exploring Reggae and Folk and Old Country as a travel record, going from Paris, to Toronto, NY, Louisiana and Jamaica. I was also friends with the Freak Folk movement stars such as Coco Rosie and Devendra Banhart, so I put a little of that in there too.

Most people don't know that "So Long" inspired the Cassidy sisters to make their own music under "Coco Rosie". That's how I ended up on stage with them a few times. Once in Paris and then in New Orleans. Josh would go on to play with them and WuTang, Lee "Scratch" Perry and many others.

I was always so possessed by the next record and new songs coming to me. The industry side of things seemed broken and it kinda freaked me out and still does. So if you have found my music and really appreciate it, reach out to me to book a private event or help out in some way. I'm more creative now than ever.

https://youtu.be/6LHriSEmazk?si=xqONF-S23lr_T-Ea

"So Long" Stories (Jules)

 This picture is how it all started.  This is my friend Donovan Guidry.  We met in an acting class at the University of New Orleans.  In New Orleans after college, I fell into modeling and signed with an agent and the next thing you know they are preparing me to speak to a camera in commercials.  I landed the very first job I auditioned for and made a quick few thousand dollars.  This indeed got my attention, though the idea of speaking for a living with my cajun accent intimidated me.  

Fast forward to when I moved to New York to study at The Stella Adler Conservatory of Acting.  There was a voice class and every day we laid on our backs and moved the tongue around over annunciating.  My big Cajun tongue was lazy and always kicking and screaming among the British actors with their perfect diction.  I hung in there enough to be pulled aside a few times by the teachers and they would tell me that I was an artist.  It didn't matter how it sounded coming out of my mouth.  

At the same time, Donovan was finishing his studies in New Orleans.  I'd leave him song ideas on his answering machine.  He was a Hip Hop head and loved beats, and didn't care about music theory or any of that.  The combination of the acting teachers confidence and Donovan would be the kindling to get me going.  

I convinced him to move to New York and we lived for a short time in my 200 sq. ft. apartment in the East Village.  When my parents visited they laughed and said, "I can't believe my son is living like this"?  It was great simplicity.  No microwave, a fridge and basic stove and a futon on the 5th floor and my fire escape went right to the roof for afternoon hangs at sunset.  

The picture above is at the airport.  I don't know why we are both in suits but it was a big day for both of us.  We didn't know we were about to make a record, just two Cajun voyagers on a quest to find their art and purpose. We dropped off his bags and went off into the Friday night sights, alive with the sounds of the city.  At the time, I was listening to a lot of 50's and 60's jazz music.  Artists like Miles Davis, John Coltrane, Chet Baker, and some Charles Mingus.  Mingus would become my working nickname during the recording of "So Long". Quite funny, cause I was such a beginner.  

There was a glow at "Jules" on this first night.  A friend of mine joined us, who was from France and was a film maker.  There was always a jazz trio playing live and the space was perfect French simplicity.  No silly American frills, just a great space and vibe.  It was a thrill to live inside this excitement for Donovan moving to the big city.  I had just done it a year prior.  It was a jittery feeling, but exciting.  He was there to maybe pursue film making and took classes at the New School.  

It is very important to note the significance of living in such tight quarters at these times.  We weren't in New York to impress anyone with our living quarters, the rent was now cut in half to $400 a month.  Breathing room was always so important to me.  It allowed me the space and time to dream.  Don quickly found interesting waiting jobs at really cool restaurants and that's how we met Mac Premo, but that is a whole other chapter and it needs to stand alone.  Though it is very hard not to get into it now. Ha.  I remember going to a vintage home goods store across the street on 5th avenue with Mac and discovering Serge Gainsbourg.  I love these sign post in life.  Large shifts can happen in a moment.  Every night we'd be exhausted.  We'd eat rice and beans and watch the Yankees in the World Series.  We slept on a futon, with our heads on opposing sides and we brainstormed until we fell asleep.  I can't express how important it was that we were forced to live this way that summer.  So many ideas were pouring out, and then out of the blue we start dreaming of actually making a record.  

As we made plans to move over the East River to Williamsburg, Brooklyn we found ourselves on 48th St. buying a bunch of gear to build a small home studio so we can carefully craft our music without the pressures of the studio.  We despised the idea of working with the older pro's who had their tried and true ways of working.  We listened to a lot of Digable Planets and A Tribe Called Quest and I had just discovered Trip Hop through the timeless classic "Dummy" by Portishead.  There was a Reggae shop on 3rd avenue at the time and my new friend, Ras Kush was teaching me about Dub music and so many Jamaican singers.  This was important for us too.  There were tons of records on the wall, all from Jamaica and they had crafted their own sound, out of the sounds of the compressed airwaves from New Orleans.  This was a huge connection for us.  We would go on to weave this through the songs and the mixing style and singing styles would hugely influence "So Long".  

We had braved it and found a place on the Southside of Williamsburg for $1200 a month.  Before we moved we discovered Joni Mitchell's "Blue" album and we were floored by it and listened to it over and over.  The longing, with a hint of sadness really spoke to us.  I didn't understand the feeling at the time, but now 30 years later I see it as a tinge of sadness of letting our old selves go and braving the new.  

We were reinventing.  On Friday nights, I'd hit the streets and would think to myself that there were high school football games happening back home and no one seemed to care.  On Saturday night, I hopped in the subway car after LSU beat the great Florida and no one seemed to care.  It was like I ripped off my old suit and became anew.  Shaving my head helped me in a way to become something else and let my old self go.  

" The mind, once stretched by a new idea, never returns to its original dimensions" - Ralf Waldo Emerson

Letting Go Of Resolutions

 

Another year has come to pass.  At the beginning of this year, I made a list of things I wanted to make myself do, mostly music related......like putting oneself out there.  Ha!  It always feels silly in this day and age for a mature adult to be putting himself out there, along with the millions of peacocker's grasping for their 15 minutes of fame.  

I woke up thinking of Warhol today and New York.  Last night I went to the theatre to see the new Bob Dylan film and I really enjoyed it.  I remember pulling up to Bonnarro music festival in our van with my band and Bob was right there in the back stage area before us about to go onstage.  It was surreal.  All I had done in the three years leading up to this moment, was grind out my first record So Long.  I had barely played live and here I was before the music messiah and I had 9 songs to my name and was about to play live.  People talk about imposter syndrome, but this was a crazy experience for me.  I didn't grow up playing music.  I just loved music and albums and artist for so long and I finally started buying equipment and was insanely curious to see what was in me.  

Of course when I was younger I would have taken the fame, but I was about 30 by the time I signed with Atlantic and was too wise to not see the pageantry before me.  I didn't want a life of smoke and mirrors.  I wanted to really make art, unaffected by artifice.  This morning we woke up and watched our usual Sunday morning show.  There was a woman talking about resolutions and letting go of our entanglements of the past and the anxious future.  My past does tie me up in knots.  I know I did the right thing as I have finally chased the imposter inside of me away.  Now I stand firm in knowing that I put the work in, and find myself in a sea of posers.  In a way, Dylan was a poser.  He is a great artist but he was damn good at posing and playing the game.  I think he really loved the attention.  I remember in my label years, meeting artists and noticing certain ones had this thing about them that strung people along.  Those people scared me.  They felt insanely self centered and self important.  Kind of like Ricky Henderson talking about himself in the third person. It all seemed silly to me.  I could have poked my chest out and faked it and made millions or I could duck out into the wild and find my art.  

Last Sunday, we played our annual Christmas concert in Lafayette and it felt like a prayer.  I never really had a goal with my music path.  None other than to find my art and meaning beyond success and recognition.  My friend Lane was there taking pictures and he helped me to see what I'm doing in a new light.  It's very micro but I believe the guy at the microphone.  That to me is success.  This year I hope to find the courage to lean in to the mic a bit more in the silly noise of the world.  Hoping to make a difference.  Happy New Year.  I'm ending it with a 8.5 handicap in golf.  It's been nice since moving to Lafayette after years in New York and New Orleans, where I pretty much gave up playing golf.  It's sunny today, I may go tee it up.  Much love.  

 

"Greetings To The End of Summer"

 

Greetings to you and the end of summer.  It's hot as hell here in Louisiana but I always love the optimism of the approach of fall.  I haven't really touched my guitar in a month or so.  Well I have to record some things, but I put away my catalog of songs for a bit.  It's like that for me from time to time.  I see these bands that tour constantly and a part of me is envious but I know all too well the realities of that world.  It's not always easy working for the man or the machine.  

These days, when I'm not playing music, I work on houses and gardens with my ear buds in listening to podcasts or records.  It's not exactly like I drew it all up when I moved to NY back in the day but there have been many surprises that have come my way that I didn't plan for.  

I never dreamed I'd become friends with the folks writing me.  I started answering emails and rethinking how music was going to be in my life and it is kind of working.  I like it and I like them.  So many different folks out there that feel familiar to me and Margaret.  Another thing that is staring to happen is artists are reaching out to me to collaborate and produce their records.  I'm in the middle of one now for an artist in Atlanta called "Weston J".  It's his first record and I know all too well what it's like trying to do that for the first time.  It's hard to trust but if you find the right people, it's easier.  And he loves my catalog, so it has been really fun and inspiring for both of us.  I'm reminded why I got into music in the first place.  I love the studio and the act of recording a time capsule.  I love sound.  

I came on to write today to say hi.  I don't write enough these days for the public as I've been doing some private journaling lately.  I see the numbers and people are reading blogs still, I guess, so I figured I'd say hi.  I've been doing the work, trying to tap into some of my traits of when I was 27 and moved to NY.  I was very brave and had a lot of wisdom to leave my hometown and a very cushy existence to find my art.  I had audacity to buy a bunch of equipment and to learn how to use it all to make "So Long".  I feel like there is a lot of noise in the world now, with social media, politics and especially in music.  But I know that I'm on the top of my game and that someday, I'll get what I need for my music path to open up just a bit.  In the meantime, you'll have to find me.  I won't be the guy hooping and hollering for your attention on a big stage.  Not my style.  

"Catching Up With An Introvert"

Greetings from Lafayette, Louisiana.  At times lately, I feel a little bored living in a smaller city but it has afforded me a better lifestyle.  I've allowed myself to get back into golf, cars and gardening.  When I moved to New York and dedicated myself to all things music, it took giving up a lot.  It was hard watching my friends do all the things, while I sat at home reading manuals and practicing instruments and reading literature.  I had moved to the city with a nice chunk of money that afforded me time to focus and I was militant and didn't waste a second.  It's how "So Long" was born, but I'm not here to talk about that.

Lately, I've been restoring houses to make some money so I can continue to keep music precious.  I'm just not a gig-er.  I quickly learned in the music industry that the musician is at the bottom of business plan and have spent the past ten years rethinking how I was going to have music in my life.  I've enjoyed getting more comfortable playing solo/duo shows but I am missing playing with a band.  When I started touring again, I made it a business first and that meant eliminating most of the expenses that come along with touring.  Musicians, hotels, transportation....all those things add up and make it really hard to start a business.  That's how I ended up in a van.  I wanted to enjoy the process and actually see the places I tour to. 

I'm not here to talk about that either.  Lately, while painting I listen to podcast.  I love Eckhart Tolle, Rick Rubin's "Tetragrammaton", Founders, and The Mental Golf Show.  It's like mental floss.  I don't know if you noticed, but I tend to get in my own way.  In golf, one must swing freely without over thinking or guiding the club.  You must pick a target and trust it and let it rip.  It's very zen actually and relates to all things in life.  When I listen to the podcast, they are talking about golf but all I can think about is my relationship to my music path.  I'm learning to let it rip.  It's not easy being judged.  It's not easy in an a dying industry either.  There's no way they are going to put me on a tour bus and not pay me and make me look famous again.  It's all smoke and mirrors and I'm done.  That's why I play in my back yard and in peoples living rooms and get face to face.  I'm not the play to the back row in the stadium kind of guy.  I'm not a ham.  I don't like ham really, or hams.  It's weak and egoic and not healthy.  

So, I've been wrestling with the mind and grabbing it by the throat.  During the pandemic, Margaret and I read "A New Earth" every morning by the fire.  I miss Covid sometimes.  I liked being shut down.  Margaret was chasing snail trails in the yard and was just being.  Those shows we did 10 weeks in a row were special.  I couldn't believe how many people were showing up for us.  It really made me realize that my work is getting out there.  I want to connect more than I want huge crowds.  It would be nice to play more music than restoring houses and I'm working on finding ways to do that.  

I love the feeling of restoring something.  I don't really like doing exteriors but I love this house so much, I agreed to do it.  I like the feeling of taking baby steps and doing good work.  It's what I've been doing all along in music.  I didn't grow up playing music and discovered a talent in college.  It was soothing on the first night in the piano labs learning the "Amazing Grace" melody on the black keys.  It brought tears to my eyes and something grabbed me and I knew I was going to commit to this.  Something was trying to come through but I had a huge rock to chisel.  

This is a pic from our "Marigny Opera House" show from last year.  If you would have told me in college that one day I would be up there in front of that crowd, I wouldn't have believed it were possible.  But the right people were put in my path.  People like Dr. Duncan MacMillan, who wouldn't let me quit and put a lot of work and belief in me in those days.  Of course there was all the tragedy's growing up that was the early fuel for my fire.  After sports, I needed to find something to let my roar out.  That night in the piano labs was it and I would be patient and find my way.  

After I was dropped by Atlantic Records, I let "So Long" go for a while because it was my first record and I didn't really know what I was doing.  When my cousin Patti Ann died, I went back and listened and realized it wasn't as heavy as I thought and that I somehow found joy through the trials.  I reminded myself of my old mamere, who had a hard life but was the most joyous person I've ever met.  I keep these things in mind, while we all struggle with these modern challenges.  Everything since the Trump years and Covid changed.  I don't like where the American mind is.  It's childish and egoic, really.  I want to do my part and don't want to bury my head in the sand.  There is a lot of noise out there in music.  I pray I can find a way for folks to find the taste for something that will feed them in a different way.  

Today I'm driving to New Orleans to see "Slowdive" tonight.  When we toured for "So Long", we listened to a lot of shoe gaze music.  Bands like "My Bloody Valentine", "The Cure", "Mazzy Star", and "Slowdive".  Our bass player in New Orleans used to play with them and we are meeting up tonight.  It will be cool to talk to them.  Please know that I am putting in the work but mostly making this stuff work for me and not me for it.  I hope you understand.  The new music we have going over here is a combination of everything that I've done and it's the most spiritual.  Paris is my number one city for online listeners.  I'm dying to get back over there and play again.  Bon Soir!

The Clash

 I must be honest, I was a little young and almost missed the music of The Clash but they ended up on some of the mixed tapes that were floating around the high school I went to just outside New Orleans.  I had the great fortune of going to a school closer to “The City”, and there was an underground movement happening in the small corners of the French Quarter in tiny clubs where one could hear a song and have to scream up to the DJ to desperately find out who it was.  And then the next day was a quest of going find the record. 

The New Wave movement coming out of the punk and post punk scenes changed the course of life for me and taught me how to dream and be myself and not be afraid of the unknown.  Most importantly it taught me to remain “DIY”.  I grew up watching my people just doing it themselves and succeeding and it kind of installed a chip on my shoulder to remain this way.  There’s no way Atlantic Records could have held onto me.  It was plastic. 

This little flag is flying in me as I picked up my guitar the other night to begin rehearsing music of The Clash for our show on Monday night at Chickie Wah Wah.  The music is a sword and I feel so comfortable in it.  There would be no Clash music without Reggae and there would be no Reggae without New Orleans.

Come cuddle up next to the root and help stir the pot.  Maybe this can lead us to something new.  

"Tales Of An Imposter"

It was an odd feeling to arrive in New York City with three bags, and a lot of hope that I could find something to put all my energy into.  Due to tragedies in life, I had a history of just going for it with no fear of the outcome.  I didn't know anyone in the city and it was spring and I moved into my new apartment in Chelsea.  My favorite thing about the city is just wandering around at night, downtown through the West Village to Soho and to my favorite, Cafe Gitane.  

I was in over my head, there were lots of successful, smart looking people hanging out and beautiful girls. I didn't really socialize much as I didn't want to tell anyone what I was up to in the city because then I would have to explain what I was up to and I didn't exactly know my plan.  I had gotten a few acting jobs in New Orleans and just like that, auditioned at Stella Adler and got in.  It was something to do and a place to land in the big city.  

I wandered around a lot and dreamed and read books for weeks without talking to many people and really didn't mind.  When school started it got easier and began meeting people and dating and all that.  It was very inspiring in those studios, over looking the city.  I was reinventing myself yet again and I've always been comfortable doing that.  Though I was comfortable, I did feel like an imposter.  I guess you have to be an imposter for a while until you figure out a path.  And then the great acting teachers began to look at me as if I had the greatest potential to reach the heights of former students like Brando or Pacino.  It was a good feeling to be seen as an artist by these older artists I admired.  It gave me wings actually to quit the school and buy more equipment and set out to make my first record.

Years later, when I'm on the 27th floor of Atlantic Records signing my first record deal, the feeling was still there.  As if to say, wow these folks are buying this, they believe me!  It's an odd thing really and no one talks about it.  The journey and finding ones place in the world.  I'm telling you this because maybe you see me as a musician, an artist and that it must have always been.  I tell you, it wasn't.  One must stand up and be brave and take the first step down strange paths.  There I said it.  You got this.  

I wonder what's inside you.  

 

"Integrity Of The Game"

 In high school, my coach told me I could throw the football farther into the wind due to the aerodynamics, and he did the sly, quick click on the stopwatch and made me believe I ran a 4.6.  I don't know if I ever really threw in the mid 80's on the mound, or if it was just a feeling.  An inner Bill Laimbeer that will take you down, no matter the speed.  

Yesterday I read a line of Rick Rubin's that said "Impatience is an argument with reality".  He's right!  It's a rugged fight really, being an artist.  There's no coach on the table, edging you on.  It's you in an empty room against the blank page and if you want it all now, well that's just too bad.  Deep breath!  

Tall tales don't really work to push the artist.  He must find himself, immersed in it.  As with golf, one must be present and have integrity.  One must have the honor of a soldier on the course, when in the bush he lies.  A triple, a quadruple bogey, put it on the card.  Dig your game out of the dirt! I dare you.  The golf gods are smiling upon you.  And trust me, they won't forget.  In this era of great posturing, you'll rest my friend. 

"So Long Letters " #1

 

It's true, I do love letters.  I like writing and taking the time to send out a letter here and there.  And I really appreciate the lovely emails I get from time to time from folks who love my first record "So Long". Sure it was disappointing that the record didn't get its proper promotion back in the day, but it did manage to make its way out into the world.  Often the stories people share say that so and so stole my only copy and I only have it on this one hard drive, etc.  These stories always show up when I need them to.  I don't make music to one day play stadiums and entertain the masses, I do this first for myself and my own healing and to connect on a deeper level.  

This message came in from Brooklyn yesterday and it's nice to be appreciated in a city that I love and adore.  The city where my creativity was born.  

Subject: So Long

Message: Hi! I don't usually write artists but this album was so important to me in high school. I let my parents give away all my CDs at some point between graduating in 2006 and now and thus this album was lost. I couldn't find it streaming anywhere and didn't own a CD player until I bought a used car last year after the birth of my son. My spouse has a collection of random old CD's and all i wanted was this album back, to share with my family on our antiquated cd player, in our shitty car. Today the first song on the album was on my spotify Release Radar playlist. I'm sitting at my desk with happy tears. This brings back so many memories. I feel like a piece of my life was put back together. I just wanted to say thank you for making music and posting this special album on Spotify. Music is so magical and this is hitting somewhere deep in my soul that I didn't know was hidden!

A Letter To Brian

Greetings Brian,

I hope your family is having a nice holiday in West Virginia.  I looked up your town on the map and it seems like a small town in the mountain areas right off of  I-81 which is my main interstate I take to my northeast tour run I’ve been doing.  

It was great getting your message of interest in my work.  I could tell you really cared and it was heart warming.  It’s not always easy to truly connect with others through my work, and when it happens I feel like I’m on the right track.  

Since 2014, I started touring solo/duo after answering many emails just like yours.  When you saw me play in D.C. years ago, I had just figured out how to make a record and I was being thrust in the limelight and had to figure out this next phase.  A phase that made me really uncomfortable.  I longed to have my privacy back and to be creating more, not to be made into a star.  

me smelling my new 2016 Gibson L-00

This new road was a bit more rugged in the beginning  and felt like I was in a wagon wheel heading west into the unknown.  To be honest, if I’m not feeling like that in each new year, I feel I must be doing it wrong.  Things have been working on this path.  I feel truly connected to the folks that host the shows and I am totally disconnected from any middle men.  I long to play slightly bigger theatre’s and to collaborate more with folks I admire.  It’s moving at a snails pace, but when I can latch onto gratitude first thing in the morning, my days are beautiful and full.  Unfortunately, some mornings I hop onto the wrong train and I want to sell all of my guitars and do something else.  Ha!  I’m not joking though.  Those feelings do come, but then emails like yours come through with a strong message of gratitude and I feel seen.  

I’ve been into playing micro shows, maybe we can do one in a micro town like yours.  I long to make a difference in these times.  

Kind Regards,

Dustan Louque

"Louque Letters to Sean"

 Greetings Sean,

Just wanted to thank you for your support, not only today but since day one when I bought the van and hit the road again.  I was afraid inside but knew I had to do it.  I have fond memories of those times when we opened the doors of the Gary State Bank.  I’ve been playing in many cool, non-venue spaces all over the country and it seems to be working.  I have truly found a sustainable path.

I’m enjoying creating the dialogue for these hats and talking about old Grand Point.  People don’t realize that ole Nelta Louque birthed a slew of baseball stars.  Names like Delaneuville, Heltz, Poirrier, Richard were all of her grand, great, and great great grand children.  

Looking back on it, it was all we had to do.  I imagine that’s why the Cubans are so good in baseball.  Playing everyday makes a great player, even with a plastic bat and ball made out of paper towels and duct tape.  

And speaking of the Cubans, buying that old van was kind of like building my raft to cross the ocean towards opportunity.  And I thank you for your generosity and openness to the idea that our people can be artists too.  

Kind regards,

Dut

"Louque Letters To Rusty Pipe"

 Greetings Rusty Pipe,

It was great to see your order come through.  I find it a great omen that your order number is 00011.  The number 11 has always carried significant meaning to me as it was Joey’s number.  

Thanks for always taking me seriously as a musician, even way back when it was only a dream and I probably came across a little odd for pursuing this path.  I honestly had no choice.  After Joey passed, I vowed to not let fear get in the way and work to find my true gifts.  It was challenging because my instincts were sending me down strange roads like acting and New York.  By the time I was getting weak and starting to doubt, your mom came down with meningitis and the nasty warrior in me reappeared.

I’m so proud to be where I’m from and I love the humility and resourcefulness of our tribe.  I spoke to my dad yesterday about locating the old St. Philamena church bell.  I’d love to erect it in the Point De Cannes and have an annual celebration for the ones we’ve lost.  We are headed on tour next month and will be stopping in Woodstock to record with my band and we are recording a song I wrote called “Under The Blood Red Sun”.  It’s all about the tragedies of Grand Point.

I hope this finds you well and on a path you love.  Life is not always easy, but now and then I look up and feel like I’m honoring the vow I made as a kid.  

Much Love,

Dut