Ray Abshire: Past, Present & Future

Discussing the legends that Ray Abshire has shared the stage with is a cumbersome task. It is far easier to say which Cajun music great he hasn't played with ... a slim few. Some comrades, long deceased and forgotten, might not raise many eyebrows. Others - like Dewey Balfa and Lionel Leleux - have resisted fading from our memories. Starting tonight, anyone with a lick of talent or an instrument can make that list a little more exasperating.

Last year, Mark Falgout nipped the Blue Moon Saloon & Guest House's jam sessions when a cold front moved into town. In hopes of an early spring rejuvenation, Falgout offers Cajun kings to a porch filled with pawns. Abshire, the first king whom Falgout calls a master and legend in his own time, is tickled to join fellow Cajun enthusiasts, some as seasoned as a stuffed pork chop and some still earning their salt. In most cases, a master who has played with the best of them - old-timers and the future hall of fame entrants alike - might not be exactly keen on sharing the stage with a whelp. Abshire says he pays it no mind.

"You kind of blank that out. There's nothing like being in a groove with some experienced musicians, don't get me wrong," says Abshire. "You know, you're up there with Courtney (Grangér) and Kevin (Wimmer) on the bandstand is one thing, but it's all for the enjoyment of music. You have to play your music and hope they enjoy it as much as you do. Surprisingly so, the tempo gets right and they seem to pick up on your rhythm. First thing you know, they're doing some things that surprise you."

For Abshire, a traditionalist and proud of it, events and venues like this are an artery for the music that grew out of this area long before you could find it in on a Best Buy rack.

"You pass it on by ear. You have to sit down with the boys and play with them, and you have to keep doing it," he says. "A lot of them are locking on. There's a lot of great music in town. It's a breeding ground for musicians, always has been."

When it comes to the start of his career, Abshire brushes it off as something he was born into, as his family was musical - his cousin was the late and legendary Nathan Abshire. While they surrounded him with music at an early age, events similar to the Moon's jam sessions helped galvanize his skills. It wouldn't be a stretch to picture a young, tow-headed Abshire salivating at the opportunity to occupy a space on a stage with one of his heroes.

"In the old days, we called them house parties, fais do-dos," Abshire remembers. "And that's how it started with me. We didn't call them jam sessions; we'd just get (together) at each others' homes and cook, and you'd meet these professional musicians at these jams. They'd take a liking to you and they'd invite you to go meet them and sit in. One thing leads to another ... same identical thing. It's just kind of history repeating itself.

"As a young man, I just ended up on (it) the same way, just following the musicians around and ended up playing professionally as a teenager. It just kind of happened," he adds. "Like these boys today, you know they jamming one day, they're playing for money the next day! It just happens down here you know, you end up making friends and first thing you know a little group starts and you off and running."

Off and running - definitely indicative of Abshire's career. A product of what is known as the Dance Hall Era of the 1950s and '60s, Abshire's ears received much tutelage from the greatest mentors the musical style has ever seen. In the 1970s, he landed the accordionist spot for the Balfa Brothers and played the first Festivals Acadiens, then dubbed A Tribute to Cajun Music.

But in '75, with him and the band taking the show on the road and the genre primed to explode to a national scene, Abshire says he had "too much in the pot" and stopped performing live.

"Boy, it was a difficult decision, I tell you," he says. "Cajun music was just coming out the gates ... it was tough, but you got to place your priorities." Seventeen years later, spurred by his friends and family and with his business allowing him more free time and with the kids in college, he canned his hiatus.

But it wasn't until last year that he, with the help of Wimmer, Grangér and The Lost Bayou Ramblers' André Michot, cut his first album. "One thing led to another, then we cut an album then boom, boom, boom. Now I'm playing at Jazz Fest, Festival International, Festivals Acadiens. It's just exploding."

The old adage is that you can't step in the same river twice, but with such traditional currents does that hold true for Cajun music?

"I think it is much more diversified. In the old days, you had distinct styles. You could go from one area to another - you know Vermilion Parish to Acadia Parish," says Abshire. "You go up around Eunice and the prairie and it was a different style - more fiddles. Breaux Bridge always did their own thing; it was always totally different. It was just totally segregated, and it was just kinda structured. Today, you've got these musicians playing all kinds of genres. They're not just playing Cajun; they're mixing it up. They're playing Zydeco, they're playing old time, they're playing bluegrass." He gives these performers a distinct advantage over those of the old days with what he calls instant knowledge. In other words, in his day to hear a certain musician or style you had to travel to see them and, if you couldn't drive, "you were pretty much just stuck in the mud." For the education of today's lot, there's a new set of three R's: radio, record store and restaurant. And don't forget about the festivals.

"But there's a difference: Back then, the musicians played, I think, with more feeling," he says. "They just kinda lived through the music and didn't play as often as they do today - they worked all week, so when they got down to play they got down. It was just, in my own personal opinion, it was much more heartfelt than it is today. But, technically, these guys today are unbelievable. You've got them young boys out there playing four or five instruments and not looking back."

The musicianship isn't the only tributary that has changed course by Abshire's estimation. Since getting back in front of the lights, Abshire has taken his accordion on the road, hitting festival spots all over the country, something that was once a rarity for a Cajun act.

"You get there and you say, 'Who's gonna want to listen to us?' You go there and there maybe 8, 12 thousand people out there dancing and cutting up," Abshire says. "People come to you after your performance and they've got accordions, they've got more accordions than you, and its just unbelievable. There's Cajun bands, there's all-girl Cajun bands, on the West Coast, its crazy. I often ask myself, 'I wonder what those guys would think now, these old timers that I grew up with, if they could just come back and see.'"

nick.pittman@timesofacadiana.com