Live at Whiskey River Landing    Rounder6096  

A comment by Dirk Powell, accordeon player from Balfa Toujours,

published in Round Up, magazine from Rounder Records   



The sun is setting over the cypress trees of the Atchafalaya Basin.

Vehicles are lined up along the levee 

-pick-ups, Troopers, an old Crown Vic or two. Other methods of transportation

  are  evident as well -a pair of saddled horses tethered to one of the porch

 beams,  three cr four aluminum john boats at the dock. People are coming, by

  whatever  means available, to spend their Sunday after noon dancing with each

 other,  free trom the worries of a week that is now, undeniably, part of the


Walking inside trom the porch, the evidence of all this humanity envelopes you.

 It is warm; the air is a thick liquid and the band is playing at full tilt.

Dancers of  all ages and forms are shaking the wooden floor, creating waves in

the wood like the wakes of the skiffs outside... You see a sign reading 

"1 Beer...
$1.50, 2 Beers... $3.00, 3 Beers... $4.50, 4 Beers... $6.00..." 

A sunburned man in a western shirt walks up next to y ou and orders a beer. 

"I only have a dollar" he tells the bartender, a man with a dark mustache and

  warm brown eyes, who proceeds to give him one at this price. As the first man

  stumbles contentedly away, the bartender, Terry Angelle, owner of this

 incredible place, turns  to y ou and says, "Pauvre bête, he's been saying that all


Welcome to a place of many welcomes, of come as y ou are or come as y ou would

  like to be -Angelle's Whiskey River Landing, where, on a Sunday after noon, 

 y ou can let the good times roll all over y ou and still come up wanting more. 

At this legendary dancehall and boat landing, magic happens on a regular basis.

  Like all Southwest Louisiana clubs, the line between the stage and the crowd 

is virtually nonexistent. But at Whiskey River it goes beyond that; the band

 watch es the dancers at least as much as the dancers watch the band, and 

together  everyone reaches a place far above the surrounding flatlands and 



For a musician looking into the crowd, the swirl of waltzers reveals a new

  picture every few seconds. The dancers look to the stage as they pass, making

  eye con tact, flirting, laughing, taking false steps in jest or letting their

  intimate glide speak for itself. On the two-steps, the place revs up like an old

  outboard motor, chugging, burning blue smoke. Within a few beats the room is

  throbbing; not humming like a jet engine but pumping, sparking, pistons firing

  and recoiling. People dance on the floor, they dance on the stage, they climb on

  the bar and let their hips roll. By the end of the night, the interaction has

  created something beyond the experiences we settle for.


We love playing at Whiskey River. It is where our souls are nourished. We can

  do things there we can't do anywhere else and we get things there that we 

don't get anywhere else. It is our hope that this recording will, in some way, 

bring more people into the fold, allowing them to feel the magic they boil up at

  Terry's every Sunday afternoon. It may be something that fills a void in our

 lives, or it may be something unique and exotic. Whatever it is, it feels

  unmistakably, mercifully, like home.


Dirk Powell, Balfa Toujours


Includes: "La chandelle est allumée," "Whiskey River Special," "La valse 

des  pins," "Le reel Frugé," "Le two-step de Bon Café," "The Tow Truck 

Blues," "Mon  vieux wagon," "La valse de Bélizaire," "Le two-step de 

Platin," "Casse pas ma tête," "Frank DuPuis a pris ma femme," "Tu peux 

cogner mais tu peux pas rentrer," "C'est tout perdu," "Keep Your Hands 

Off Of It," "Chez Geno"