As night settled on the New Orleans riverfront during Jazz Fest in 1984, Malcolm “Mac” John Rebbenack Jr. took the stage aboard a historic side-paddle steamship and delivered a solo piano performance that reflected a pivotal moment in his evolution as an artist.
He’d found widespread acclaim in the 1970s as Dr. John, a “gris-gris man” whose Hoodoo-inspired stage act fused psychedelic rock-laced jazz, funk and soul with music and cultural traditions rooted in his hometown of New Orleans. While touring and recording his own projects, Rebbenack had also maintained a prolific and highly respected career as a session man, producer and composer, making an indelible mark on a vast swath of the American popular music canon of his time.
As the 1980s got underway, Rebbenack – a former child prodigy who was still in high school when his New Orleans music career took off – was itching to tackle what he later described in his memoir as “more sophisticated music.” In pursuit of that new echelon of sound, Rebennack cut his first-ever unaccompanied solo piano album, “Dr. John Plays Mac Rebbenack” in 1981. Elegant and layered with innovative improvisations, the album combined the best of Rebennack’s dark and mystical Dr. John sounds with traditional New Orleans tunes, jazz standards and more. His return to the studio for a solo piano follow-up the next year confirmed the major shift in his creative focus.
“The audiences loved these earlier songs,” Rebbenack later wrote in “Under a Hoodoo Moon, “but I found they were also ready for music on a higher plane, sounds that appealed to a spiritual awareness, not just that low-down meat level.”
By the time he took the stage on the Riverboat President on a cool spring evening in New Orleans on April 27, 1984, Rebbenack had found his footing on a new path that allowed him to explore a full-spectrum version of his artistry.
Introduced to a packed house full of Jazz Fest revelers as “the man you call Dr. John … who’s really New Orleans’ own Mac Rebbenack,” he spent the next hour proving there was room for both Dr. John and Mac Rebbenack in his creative output – especially at home in New Orleans, the place that fueled him musically and spiritually throughout his life.
New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival producer Quint Davis produced the 1984 Riverboat President concert as a triple bill, with Dr. John headlining alongside Fats Domino and the Neville Brothers. It was a celebration of Jazz Fest’s 15th anniversary and called for the city’s brightest and most influential musicians.
“Mac’s in the Parthenon of New Orleans piano giants,” Davis says. “That’s reflected on this album – and not just because of the songs, which are almost a compendium of important New Orleans music. Mac was, in his heart, a live player.”
Part of that was his magnetism that seemed to draw his audience in.
The vibe on the boat was usually “wild” during Jazz Fest night shows in the ‘80s, according to Davis, but for a rare solo performance from Dr. John, concertgoers clustered around the stage in the center of the ballroom, intent on “sharing the experience” of his music.
That experience – captured live on this recording – offered an up-close immersion in Rebbenack’s New Orleans-steeped sound and laid-back, improvisational style. From the complex left-hand bass line embellishments that speak to his multi-instrumentalist past, to the seemingly impossible turnarounds, sly off-the-cuff lyrical tweaks and humorous medley combos, the performance showcased Rebbenack in his element and thriving.
Despite the distinction that was sometimes drawn between Rebennack and his Dr.John persona, there was an enduring quality to his spirit that remained the same whether he was onstage or off, recalls his former drummer Herlin Riley.
Riley joined Dr. John’s band in 2006, but grew up seeing Rebbenack at family gatherings – he was close with Riley’s great uncle, “Ooh Poo Pa Doo” songwriter Jessie Hill – and at Riley’s grandmother’s home, which Rebbenack often visited to play piano alongside Riley’s uncles.
That was long before Dr. John’s classic 1968 album, Gris-Gris, Riley says, but “he always had the feathers and the long plait – he always had that way-out kind of persona,” all of which enthralled the younger musician.
“When I saw him as a kid, I was in awe of the char-ACT-er that I saw,” Riley says, emphasizing the middle of the word, Dr. John-style. “That’s the way he said it,” he adds with a laugh.
Years later, after sharing a tour bus with Rebennack and developing a close bond on the road, Riley discovered Rebennack’s spirit hadn’t changed. He also found Rebbenack was “the same person onstage that he was offstage,” an uncommon quality that Riley believes made Rebennack an even more compelling artist.
“People gravitate toward truth and honesty,” the drummer says. “When you’re doing something that’s feeding the spirit inside of you, and when you allow yourself to become emotionally naked on the stage, people see that and they embrace it.”
For Rebbenack, New Orleans itself represented a kind of spiritual sustenance, even after he moved away in search of better music work.
Growing up in the Crescent City’s Third Ward, Rebbenack’s introduction to a wide assortment of regional music, from blues and gospel to local R&B and rock, came courtesy of his dad, who sold records out of his appliance shop. Interest in his dad’s records led the young musician to join his dad on visits to Cosmio Matassa’s studio. Soon, he began to explore the local music scene on his own. He took the mission seriously, according to his childhood friend-turned-longtime music director Charlie Miller.
“Mac was always loyal to the music, specifically New Orleans music and culture. He made sure he knew the musicians in the Ninth Ward and the sanctified churches. He knew his calling in life was being a New Orleans musician and he remained close to this,” Miller says.
“When he was playing New Orleans music, it was totally New Orleans flavor, very heartfelt and very sincere,” the trumpeter continues. “That sincerity is what attracted a lot of people. He was a technically gifted musician … but when someone touches so many people's hearts through music, that’s just a very strong experience.”
To Riley’s ear, Rebbenack’s sense of rhythm was rooted in the Crescent City on multiple levels.
“The rhythms that he played were rhythms that are also associated with life here in New Orleans,” the drummer says, citing New Orleanians’ “specific way of talking … walking and …playing” music.
“Mac’s maneuvering of the rhythm always had a dance element to it that was almost like a signal of New Orleans culture, because our rhythm and culture goes hand in hand with the dance culture,” Riley explains.
“And his singing and his playing – even his speaking – were always improvisational.”
All those elements were in full swing during Rebennack’s solo piano set in 1984 – along with his signature brand of smart, bawdy humor, which often surfaced in subtle ways. (His segue from the intricate and emotive “Take 2” version of “Dorothy,” written as a tribute to Rebbenack’s mother, into “Junko Partner” on the opener is a case in point.)
Rebbenack’s wit figured into his inventive use of language off the bandstand, too.
“Conversations with him were often magical events,” Miller recalls, marveling at his “unique understanding of human nature and the world” and his “uncanny” ability to find “cross-relationships between subjects normally not seen as connected.”
Riley also noticed Rebbenack’s ability to forge unexpected connections and create a sense of harmony and unity, whether he was dealing with music or with the people in his midst.
“It takes a special kind of person to bridge different energies and bring all these things together,” Riley says. “That was definitely Doc.”