A unique window into the world of Cajun music between 1928 and 1965. Compiled histories from websites, books, news articles, liner notes, and interviews. Most come from my personal 78 collection. Also covering Creole, Cajun-Country, and Cajun swing.
Joe Falcon knew how to make ‘em dance and he and his wife, guitarist Cleoma Breaux (listed as Clemo) certainly rattle the floorboards on songs like "Fe Fe Ponchaux" in their 1928 Columbia records recording done in New Orleans. It is a particularly rhythmic, hard-driving two-step with some loose similarities with the Bixy Guidry recording of "I Am Happy Now".
The instrumental song refers to a girl named Fifi (sometimes spelled "Fe Fe Fancho", "Fee Fee Poncho", "Fifi Font Chaud" or "Fee Fee Foncheaux"), a French-Mexican beauty known for her sauce-piquante and her two-step ability while listening and winking to Cajun musicians. The melody is based on an old Acadian ballad called "La petite Anna a Mogene Meaux," associated with the Cajun ballad singer Lula Landry, performed for Dr. Barry Ancelet in a field recording. In that song, it tells the strange story of Little Anna, who is being twirled so fast on the dance floor that she is slowly disappearing.
Fe Fe Ponchaux By Alyssa Hughes
All that's left is the bun in her hair and her red ribbon. Soon there will be nothing left of her. Her partner is turning her so fast he is going to kill her.
The most popular version would be recorded by Nathan Abshire called "Musical Five Special" for Khoury's label and then again in 1967 for La Louisiane. Over the years, many would record this tune, such as musician Leeman Prejean recording the tune as "Accordion Two Step" and Belton Richard would naming it "Il Fait Chaud". As far as the traditional ballad, "Petite Anna" would be resurrected later by Steve Riley.
Born near Church Point, Louisiana to a farming family, Iry LeJeune, near blind from birth, turned to music as a young child. It was his cousin, Angeles LeJeune, who first introduced him to the accordion. But it was the records of Amedee Ardoin that most inspired him, influencing both his Cajun-French style and his recording future. After a watching Bennie Hess and the Oklahoma Tornadoes one night, he convinced their fiddle player, Floyd Leblanc, to join them on their way to Houston. There, Iry would get a chance to record for the very first time.
O' toi ti monde, moi j'connais hier au soir,
Tout partout y'où moi j'étais, pour te 'joindre ma jolie cœur,
Hé-y-yaille, la promesse tu m'avais fait,
Elle a mieux aimé m'tourner l'dos, s'en aller en rejoindre un autre.
O' 'tite fille, rappelle toi tout partout,
Ton papa y'après s'en venir, viens me 'joindre à la maison,
Hé-y-yaille, Lui l'à venu, m'voulu cher,
pour m'demander d'me dire pardons, il connais il avait mal.
Hey 'tite fille, rappelle toi moi j'connais,
Moi j'après te dire asteure, la parole j'voulais pas t'dire,
Hé-y-yaille, si tu m'aime mais blâme moi pas,
Si les autres t'après donner, les conseils écoute les pas!
LeJeune eventually relocated to the Lake Charles region, where he found a thriving music scene among the many dance halls. He met fiddler Floyd Leblanc, who convinced the young accordionist to accompany him to Houston Texas.4 In 1948, riding on a current stirred by songs like Harry Choates' "Jole Blon," string music flooded the dance-halls and airwaves of South Louisiana. Then, with one song, Iry Lejeune threw a life preserver to the accordion. After his "Love Bridge Waltz," the fiddle fell out of Cajun music favor and the accordion crested. According to an article penned for Britain's Old Time Music by Mike Leadbitter, the song broke a 10-year dry spell for accordion music on South Louisiana jukeboxes.2On the flip side, he recorded the "Evangeline Special" (#105) on Bennie Hess' Opera label along with Hess' band called the Oklahoma Tornadoes. They consisted of Floyd Leblanc on fiddle, Virgil Bozman on guitar, Orville "Bennie" Hess on guitar, and Ben Oldeg on bass.
Iry Lejeune By George Rodrigue
Based loosely on Joe Falcon's "Au Revoir Cherie", the tune helped propel the accordion forever into Cajun music after the war. He titled the song after a small dance-hall in Ville Platte, Louisiana known as the Evangeline Club.5 A gifted singer and a master of the accordion, and able to craft deeply personal songs, Lejeune had it all and potential for even more. Lejeune developed a crying singing voice, both melodic and pleasant yet shrill enough to cut through the clangor of a noisy dance-hall, an asset before amplification. Plus, his band could play complicated songs. 2
Oh, you little one, I know that last night,
Everywhere that I went, to meet you, pretty heart.
Eh, ye yaille, the promise you made me,
Turned your back on me, to go meet another.
Oh, little girl, remember that everywhere,
Your papa, I saw him coming,
Yes, to meet me at my house.
Eh, ye yaille, he had wanted, dear,
To ask for forgiveness, he knew he'd done wrong.
Oh, little girl, remember that I know,
I'm telling you now, the words I couldn't say,
Eh, ye yaille, if it's hard, don't blame me,
If the others had given you advice,
Don't listen to them.
According to the Library of Congress:
The post-World War II revival of traditional Cajun music began with accordionist Iry LeJeune’s first single, his influential recordings of “Evangeline Special” and “Love Bridge Waltz.” Le Jeune’s emotional and deeply personal style was immensely popular with Louisiana Cajuns returning home from the war, eager to hear their own music again. His recordings marked a distinct move away from the style influenced by Western Swing that had dominated commercial Cajun recordings for over a decade and a return to the older sound of Cajun music. This sound featured the accordion, prominently and unrestrained, and a blues-influenced singing in French. LeJeune is regarded as one of the best Cajun accordionists and singers of all time.3
Afterwards, Iry teamed up with Eddie Shuler of Lake Charles. According to Eddie:
Iry went to Houston, Texas and he came up on this outfit called, I think it was Opera Records. Anyway, he cut a record over there and they put it out but nobody could buy the record. They couldn't find the record and the people were going crazy. That's the time that he approached me as he came back from Houston. What he wanted was records so that he could go out and play his dances.7
In 2009, the both songs, "Evangeline Special" and "Love Bridge Waltz, were inducted into the Library of Congress' National Recording Registry, honoring the work to be "culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant".6
Joe Werner formed several groups throughout the 1930s including this one called the Louisiana Rounders. The group consisted of Wayne Perry on fiddle and occasionally Julius Papa Cairo Lamperez on steel guitar. Werner played guitar and harmonica together on the recording of "Je Vue Ta Figure Dans La Lune (I Saw Your Face In The Moon)" in Dallas, Texas on Decca records (#17039) in 1937.
J’ai vu ta figure dans la lune, cher,
T’as fait des beaux yeux après moi,
Wayne Perry
Ta prétendiez que étiez heureux, cher,
Mais dans tes yeux je pouvais voir.
T’après cacher des idées de jours passés, cher,
Moi et toi c’est fini,
Moi je peux voir ta figure après dépeinte dans le ciel,
Moi, j’ai vu ta figure dans la lune, cher,
J'ai vu ta figure dans la lune.
The tune is sung by Joe Werner's wife who accompanied the group during this session. It's a Cajun rendition of the popular Odis Elder country tune called "I Saw Your Face In The Moon" covered by many artists during 1936 and 1937 such as Jimmie Davis, Cliff Bruner, and Ray Whitley. Later, it would become famous again with Webb Pierce's version.
Similar to Harry Choates, Floyd Leblanc was an outstanding fiddler from Mermentau, Louisiana during the post-war Cajun swing era. Bennie Hess, song writer and guitarist, had begun the Opera label for his own band. It's one of several issues Bennie Hess released on his small label, this time headlining his fiddler Floyd Leblanc. Originally, he had worked with Bill Quinn at Gold Star in Houston but never recorded as a solo artist until he worked with Hess' label. The song "Hackberry Two Step" (#107) was an ode to the town in which he played often.
Hey jolie coeur,
Mais, viens donc me voir ‘tite monde,
Pour ça ta fait, jolie coeur,
Mais, moi je connais ça sera pitié.
Hey jolie fille,
Mais, rappelle toi ‘tite monde,
Pour ça t’as fait, jolie coeur,
Mais, moi je connais mais te voudras.
Hey, jolie blonde,
Mais, moi je connais, jolie fille,
Mais, ça t’as fait, ‘tite monde,
Mais moi je connais ça sera trop tard.
Floyd Leblanc
Floyd injected a Cajun sensibility into the Tornadoes' sound.1Backed by Virgel Bozman’s Oklahoma Tornadoes band, Floyd's releases never got the same attention on Opera as Iry Lejeune's release. Outside of music, Floyd built several shrimp boats as a hobby and sold them upon completion. He was part owner and operator of LeBlanc's Net Shop until the time of his death.
After 1950, Virgil Bozman had stayed in touch with recording engineers in Louisiana. The label offered to press recordings of master acetates. Eddie Shuler was very close to Virgil Bozman who had previously tried to setup a recording label in Lake Charles called O.T. records. By 1953, Virgil had moved back to San Antonio, selling longhorns, and working with Bob Tanner at his label called Tanner N Texas. That same year, Eddie was ready to begin recording music again with his Reveliers, covering both country and Cajun tunes. Shuler drove to San Antonio and requested TNT press his recordings. Shuler states:
Well, I went to San Antonio because Bob Tanner had a pressing plant. So, I drove over there, and took a couple of my acetates with me. And I told him I’d like to make a deal for him to press my records. So, he decided he’d press ‘em himself and put ‘em on his label. And I said, "Well, okay, let’s try that." I hadn’t tried that.
The real reason he chose TNT instead of his own Goldband records label is simple. Shuler could sell more of his own band's material using a different label.
I didn’t want ‘em to know that I was the artist, ‘cause the jukebox operator’s not gonna buy a record from the artist, ‘cause they never are any good, according to them.
Oh, mais moi j'm'en va de Grande Mamou,
C'est pour voir, ma jolie, mais, petite fille.
Oh, mais chère, tit monde, chérie,
Moi j'connais, je mérite pas ça tout ça tu fais,
ça t'as fait z'avec moi Il y a pas longtemps,
C’est trop tard pour t'en pleurer tous les Dimanches.
Oh mais, moi j'm'en dans Grand Mamou,
Mais, c'est pour voir ma jolie, mais, petite fille,
Qui veut pas me revoir tu les Dimanches,
Comment tu veux, mais malheureuse, mais je veux plus te voir.
Harry Choates had resurrected the tune as "Gra Mamou" for Macy's in 1950 while Link Davis' English version of "Big Mamou" solidified it's national popularity in 1952. Eddie's group took the old 1928 Leo Soileau "Basile Waltz" tune and gave it the same name in which Leo had re-recorded it for Bluebird: "Le Gran Mamou" (#103). The title refers to an area of south Louisiana known as the Grande Mamou prairie, which translates to "mammoth prairie" due to its enormous size. According to Eddie:
I had a bunch of top notch musicians there. Hector Stutes was the fiddle player.1
With Hector Stutes on fiddle, Eddie played guitar and Norris Savoie sang vocals even though he's not credited.
Eddie Shuler
Oh, well, I'm leaving by myself for Big Mamou,
It's to see my beauty, well, little girl.
Oh, well dear, my little everything, my dearest,
I know, I do not deserve all that you've done,
That's what you've done with me not long ago,
It's too late for you to cry on Sundays.
Oh, well, I'm leaving by myself for Big Mamou,
It's to see my beauty, well, little girl.
Who doesn't want to see me on Sundays,
It's what you want, just terrible, well, I want to see you.
In the same manner in which Shuler credited all his releases, his name usually appears as author of the song. He'd end up trying to sell them out of his car to jukebox operators:
There was a jukebox operator down in New Iberia called Teche Novelty. They had jukeboxes in Louisiana and Mississippi. They bought all my records. Soon as I put one out, I’d put ‘em in the back of my car and go down to New Iberia, and unload down there. And they’d put ‘em on their jukeboxes.1
Another popular French song tradition transplanted to Acadia and Louisiana was the drinking song, called in the New World, la chanson de bamboche. This type of song was especially popular at social gatherings like Christmas and New Year celebrations, wedding receptions and house dances.5 An impassioned ambassador for Cajun music and culture, fiddler and singer Dewey Balfa was a driving force in the revival of traditional Cajun music. Together with his brothers Will, Rodney, Harry, and Burkeman, and later his nephew Tony and daughter Christine, Balfa introduced the vibrant sound of Cajun music to countless people around the world and used his role as a musical ambassador to reawaken a deep and abiding sense of pride in Cajun music amongst his fellow Cajuns. Dewey's strong sense of tradition was based on a deep musical heritage going back generations in his family. Dewey states:
"My father, grandfather, great-grandfather, they all played the fiddle," he told an interviewer, "and you see, through my music, I feel they are still alive."4
Dewey Balfa made his recording debut in 1951 with "Le Two Step de Ville Platte", which was captured on a home recorder and released as a 78 RPM single. He and Elise Deshotel cut several primitive sides including "La Valse de Bon Baurche," (#618) an original that would be the linchpin of the Balfa Brothers’ eventual recording career. Backed by Elise band, consisting of many of Nathan Abshire's musicians and Maurice Barzas, he sang this song about a sorrowful drunkard. The song warns the libertine (the literal meaning of "bambocheur") of the evils of drink and high living.3 It was an old melody, first recorded by Dennis McGee as "La Valse Du La Penitentiaire" and again Leo Soileau in the 1930s known as "Quand Je Suis Bleu". The melody also influenced Joe Manuel to record a string band version called "Since The Age Of 14". It is a hard-driving waltz, with a quick beat and soulful vocals, influenced not only by tradition, but also by the fact that the Balfa Brothers were discovering how to provide the energy level required by large festival crowds who were listening more than dancing.2
Hey, yaille, depuis l'âge de quatorze ans,
J'après rouler manche à manche,
Pour essayer d'en trouver,
D'en trouver une autre comme toi,
T'es la seule mon couer désire.
Hey, yaille,
Aujourd'hui n'importe ayoù,
N'importe ayoù moi j'peux passer,
Blanc et noir, ça me pointe au doigt, chère,
En disant, "Gardez-là! Gardez-là grand bonrien,
Le rouleur et bambocheur".
Hey, yaille, aujourd'hui chaque fois je pars,
Chaque fois je pars de la maison,
Pop et mom se mettent à pleurer,
Ça me suit jusqu'à la porte du cour,
En disant, " Toi t'es un bonrien",
Fait pas ça, viens, donc nous rejoindre.
Oh, ye yaille, mais moi j'ai toujours dit,
Toujours dit à mon vieux pop et à ma chère vieille bonne maman, yaille,
Moi, je connais j'suis un bonrien,
J'suis un bonrien pour moi-même,
J'ai jamais fait rien pour personne.
Oh, ye yaille, aujourd'hui j'suis condamné,
Condamné à rouler,
Ma bourouette sur ma planche de six pouces,
Quatre-vingt dix neuf ans,
Quatre-vingt dix neuf ans, c'est la limite d'un bon a rien,
Ça c'est le restant de ma vie,
Aussi loin de cette la moi j'aime.
Dewey and Will Balfa in the studio Photo courtesy of the Ralph Rinzler Archive
The recording didn't really take off and by the 1960s, the Cajun music sound began to change with the sounds of Belton Richard. However, people were asking Floyd Soileau of Swallow records for this song on record. Around 1963, Dewey approached Floyd about doing traditional tunes he remembered and had previously recorded. Floyd states:
I was always working in the front counter because I could get a feel of what kind of records my people wanted to buy. And I wanted to record "La Valse De Bon Baurche', but nobody knew it. And Dewey Balfa came to see me many a time trying to convince me that I should record him and his brothers. I said, 'No, I want something with an accordion, if I don't haven an accordion I don't want it.' He happens to mention that he had recorded 'La Valse De Bon Baurche' many years ago. I said, 'Why didn't you tell me this in the first place! I have been trying to get somebody to do this song for the longest." So we went in and we did 'La Valse de Bambocheurs'. From then on we went on doing the Balfa Brothers.1
Dewey Balfa Photo courtesy of the Ralph Rinzler Archive, Center for Folklife and Cultural Heritage, Smithsonian Institution
The release sold well, but more importantly, it brought the old-style, traditional sound back into consideration on the local level. The old Creole adage "condemned for 99 years" is less of a physical sentence, but more of an emotional one, in which the heartbroken feels this is the longest someone could survive without their lover. It's a way to say "dying of a broken heart".
Hey, ye yaille, since the age of fourteen,
I've rambled from road to road,
Rambling with my bottle in hand,
Trying to find another like you,
You're the only one my heart desires.
Hey, ye yaille, today, no matter where I go,
The whites and the blacks point their fingers at me,
Saying, "Look there, look there at the good for nothing,
The drunkard and rambler".
Hey, ye yaille, each time I leave,
Each time I leave my house,
Pop and mom start crying,
They follow me to the gate of the yard,
Saying "You're good for nothing,
"Don't do that. Come back and join us."
Hey, ye yaille, I always said,
Always said to my old pop and to my dear old mom,
"I know I'm a good for nothing,
I'm good for nothing for myself,
I never did anything for anybody".
Hey, ye yaille, today I'm condemned,
Condemned to ramble,
My wheelbarrow on my six-inch plank,
For ninety --nine years,
Ninety-nine years, that's the limit for a good for nothing,
That's the rest of my life,
So far from the one I love.
The Balfa Brothers, Festival of American Folklife Washington, DC. July 4, 1969 Courtesy of Smithsonian Center for Folklife and Cultural Heritage.
It was this song that attracted the attention of Newport Folk Festival fieldworker Ralph Rinzler, leading to an invitation to the Balfa Brothers to perform at the Newport festival in 1964.2 To their amazement, rather than laughing at them, the largely urban audience of 17, 000 went wild. As Dewey recalled many years later:
"I had played in house dances, family gatherings, maybe a dance hall where you might have seen as many as 200 people at once. In fact, I doubt I had ever seen 200 people at once. And in Newport, there were 17,000. Seventeen thousand people who wouldn't let us get off stage."4
With renewed pride in Cajun culture, as well as a sense of its commercial potential outside Louisiana, Dewey returned to Louisiana and in 1965, with his brothers Will, Rodney, and Harry on fiddles, guitars, and triangle and Hadley Fontenot on accordion, established the Balfa Brothers Band. By 1965, Floyd launched the Balfa's first single, giving it the English title "Drunkard’s Sorrow Waltz". Austin Pitre and Milton Molitor would re-title the song "Ninety Nine Year Waltz", even though it has no similarity with Iry's "Convict Waltz".
All Music Guide to Country: The Experts' Guide to the Best Country Recordings edited by Michael Erlewine
This recording and "La Danseuse" become the two songs most associated with the duo. Blind Uncle Gaspard travelled with fiddle player Delma Lachney who ended up recording songs during the same session. He recorded "Baoille" (#5280) for Vocalion in 1929 in Chicago. It is a beautiful yet seldom recorded song "Baionne" (spelled "Baoille"). Their recordings reflect the French sounds which emanated from the Red River region of Louisiana, north of Cajun country.
Oh chère, ma chère Baionne,
Viens donc auras de moi, ma chère l'amie,
Ma vie est ruiné,
C'est la cause de toi, ma chère Baionne.
Si j'avais déja écouté,
Ma chère vielle maman, je serais pas dans la misère.
Oh, chère, ma chère Maman,
Tu m'a laissé ici,
Comme un pauvre orphelin du pays,
Oh, chère, viens docn me joindre,
Un cher grand jour à venir,
Ma chère Vaionne ma chère l'amie.
Oh chère, chère Vaionne,
Le jour de ma mort,
C'est toi je voudrais donc qui serait auras de moi,
Avec ton mouchoir.
Oh, chère, si jamais,
Je viens mourir,
Viens donc passer ta chère grande main blanche,
Autour de ma tête.
Delma Lachney
Conflicting stories have created a debate about the original author of the song. There's some resemblance between this melody and the Appalacian folk tune "My Horses Ain't Hungry". Although anecdotal accounts attribute the composition to Lachney, there is no convincing evidence that he composed either the lyrics or the melody. Author Raymond Francois notes the term baionne may refer either to a bay horse or cow or to a blond person. However, locally, it's a nickname for a woman with chestnut or auburn-blonde hair.3 Interestingly enough, Gaspard's wife was called Vaillonne, sometimes spelled Baillole. Like the famous "Jolie Blonde", this song may reflect a cultural fascination with the figure of the relatively exotic "baioonne", who would have stood out among the many "bassettes" (small, dark completed women) of Cajun country.
Crowley Daily Signal Feb 22, 1929
Oh dear, my dear Baionne,
Come get me, my dear girlfriend,
My life is ruined,
It's all because of you, my dear Baionne.
If I had listened before,
To my dear old mother, I wouldn't be miserable,
Oh, dear, my dear mother,
You left me here,
Like a poor country orphan.
Oh, dear, come then to meet me,
One dear important day in the future,
My dear Baionne, my dear friend.
Oh, dear, dear Baionne,
The day of my death,
It is you that I would want near me,
With your handkerchief,
Oh, dear, if ever,
I'm going to die,
Then come and put your dear, great white hand,
About my head.
The song would be recorded again by Hosea Phillips for the Lomaxes and the Library of Congress in 1934. Their version of the song would employ a jig-like rhythm. In general sense, this song is also part of a large group of what might be balled songs of "bamboche."
Louisiana Cajun Music Vol. 5 The Early Years 1928-1938. Liner notes.
Find: Louisiana Cajun Music Vol. 5: The Early Years 1928-1938 (Old Timey/Arhoolie, 1973) John Bertrand / Blind Uncle Gaspard / Delma Lachney Early American Cajun Music (Yazoo, 1999) Cajun Louisiane 1928-1939 (Fremeaux, 2003)
Cajun Capers: Cajun Music 1928-1954 (Proper, 2005) Cajun Country, Vol. 2, More Hits from the Swamp (JSP, 2005) Blind Uncle Gaspard, Delma Lachney – On The Waters Edge (Mississippi, 2014)
