Lagniappe is one of those great vernacularities of the Louisiana Gulf coast. It’s a Cajun term of French and Spanish origin — all is multi-derivational in New Orleans. It means “a little extra.” Like the gal at Krispy Kreme throws in an extra donut to the dozen you buy.
Yesterday at the festival was what I’ve termed It’s All Lagniappe From Here Kind of Day. (Which is the equivalent of what elsewhere would be termed “the rest is gravy.”)
I don’t know what you were doing at half past noon, but I was experiencing the incredible, energetic talent of budding superstar Mia Borders. With her crack band of New Orleanians, the soul sister dazzled an adoring throng at the Gentilly stage.
The question is why isn’t this hot singing gal and guitar slinger a superstar?
When she and her group ripped through a neworleansified funk version of Buffalo Springfield’s “For What It’s Worth,” my pal Mark turned to me and proclaimed it a Top 10 JazzFest moment. Who am I to disagree?
We were not the only ones in the still arriving crowd up and on our feet.
She acknowledged an empowered female in the audience, wearing a “What She Don’t Know” t-shirt, the term a reference to a Borders tune. But admonished the lass, “Understand, I don’t endorse cheating around.”
She finished her triumphant set, as she often does, with a redux of Bill Wither’s “Use Me.”
When I mentioned to my krewe that it wasn’t a bad thing to be doing at 1:30 on a Friday, my pal Judy added, “The Good Friday.” Indeed.
So blissful was Mia Borders, I knew the rest of opening day’s 5 1/2 hours would be lagniappe.