There are songs that are able to capture a sense of place so vividly that you feel yourself sigh – out of recognition, perhaps even of longing – as your mind’s eye creates the scene in your imagination. It’s a rare and beautiful talent to machinate such intimacy through words and one that Luke Allen, the front man of The Happy Talk Band, has an uncanny knack for. His sardonically twisted, yet romantic, tales of New Orleans characters, both real and imagined, conjure a lyrical backdrop for this city that has set many a scene for untold numbers of denizens of this fine city of decadence and decay. Allen’s sorry tales of drug addicts and murderers and tongue-in-cheek stories of alien encounters and late-night thieves weave together a vivid, if sometimes disturbing, landscape that make listeners smirk knowingly and sing along with his sarcastic, oft-used choruses of “Ha! Ha! Ha!”
Yet, behind all of Allen’s musical dark humor, there is a calm, disarming demeanor that can make you wonder where all of those gothic lyrical images come from. Allen is, in fact, the guy you’d want in your corner should you be on the verge of a brawl (or some other ill-advised idiocy): he’d be able to diffuse the situation in about 10 seconds flat – joke included. Always at the ready with a witty line and a smile, Allen’s easy charm and affability give his gritty onstage appearance that same dose of recognition and intimacy that fill his songs and connect him and the band to their audience.
CS: What brought you to NOLA?
LA: I moved to New Orleans in late 1993. I had finished school in June of that year at UCSC where I received a B.A. in bartending (American Lit/Creative Writing). Shortly thereafter I moved up to Alaska and worked in canneries in North Naknek and Ketchikan until the end of the salmon season in late August then was hired onto a logging outfit on Prince of Wales island where I set chokers though October. I moved back to Santa Cruz in November with a pocket full of cash and got back with my old girlfriend and my old band (the band’s name changed every three shows. We were called Chuck a couple of times, and the Luke Allen Allstars once, and too many others to recall). I broke up with my girlfriend (whose name didn’t change until she was married years later), broke up with the band, secured my sister’s old car (’83 Honda) and drove west with the intention of moving to New Mexico, didn’t like New Mexico, got back on the I-10 and ended up in New Orleans. I didn’t know a soul. I lived in a shitty motel on Airline Highway when I first got here. Then found a place in Kenner (where I did demo work for my landlord), then Race and Magazine, and by January I was living in the Bywater on Independence Street.
CS: What is your favorite venue to see live shows in town?
LA: I like seeing different bands at different clubs. One Eyed Jacks is great for framing the spectacle of a bigger touring band (X, or the Lyres, T.V. On The Radio) It’s such a beautiful room with such an amazing history (they say Louis Prima played in that space back in the day). Great staff, great sound system and sound guys. Siberia (and here I’m a little biased since I own part of that bar) is perfect for the controlled anarchy required for great punk and metal shows, an element this city has sorely missed since the Dixie Tavern closed its doors after the storm. Saturn Bar is my favorite venue to see local acts and smaller touring bands that join their bill. I love the Broyard family and the rich history of a bar that is over fifty years old and used to host bare-knuckle boxing matches when O’Neil (R.I.P.) ran it.
CS: Festival season is upon us – what is your favorite and why?
LA: Chaz Fest is my favorite. It takes place at Truck Farm Studio in the Bywater. It’s a place that’s near and dear to my heart. My wife and I were married there in 2008 and so far that’s working out just fine. And by so far, I mean forever and ever, honey. Alex McMurray, his wife Kourtney Keller, and Jeff Treffinger started this festival in, I think 2006, to offer a venue for local bands who, though worthy, were not asked to play Jazz Fest. It’s named after the great Charles “Washboard Chaz” Leary who is arguably the hardest working musician in NOLA and who gets up on stage and plays one song with every band during the festival. He does, however, insist on intricate charts for each given song.
CS: Which comes first for you – lyrics or music?
LA: Usually a single lyric comes first, often with a vocal line. I piece the rest together after that. Some songs are finished in one sitting. There are others I started five or more years ago that are still unfinished.
CS: What local music are you most excited about right now? What national acts?
LA: I think Hurray For The Riff Raff is going places. Alex McMurray has been a great mentor to me. Love me some King James And The Specialmen at BJ’s on Monday nights. John Paul Keith (Memphis) sound like what I imagine Buddy Holly would have evolved into had he stayed out of that fucking plane. Nick Jaina (Portland, OR) is one of the best songwriters and arrangers I’ve ever seen. Harlan T. Bobo (Memphis) has a recording called “Too Much Love” that is perhaps one of the finest albums I’ve ever heard.
CS: Do you have a favorite venue to play at?
LA: Siberia!!! We have great sound guys and bouncers and bartenders and a good room and we host everything from Sissy Bounce to Metal to Country to Punk to Clowner Than Thou (a borrowed phrase from my wife). Saturn Bar has been Happy Talk’s home base since Katrina. Love playing that place too.
CS: Many of your songs unwind like short stories – what is your inspiration for your lyrics?
LA: I have a background in writing short fiction and I live in a town that is rich in its stories. I grew a little lazy when it came to writing prose (getting back into it recently), and found that songwriting was faster and more immediately rewarding. New Orleans is a good place for song and stories. This is the last stop for many a lost soul. I’ve been tending bar and enabling these poor sons of bitches for the better part of two decades now, and hearing their various tales of woe. If anything, to arrive at the fiction of a song, the real story needs to be toned down a little; otherwise the metaphors are too clumsy and obvious and heavy-handed. I’m also a bit of a sad sack myself and have my own stories, and I like to get drunk and sing in the shower.
CS: On the topic of stories, what is your favorite story that you have written (either as lyrics for a song or a piece of prose)?
LA: It seems like my newest song is always my favorite. Right now I’m working on a yet unnamed ditty about John the Baptist and Salome and King Herod that takes place in a strip club. So, for now, that one.
CS: Many of your lyrics are on the darker side with a sardonic twist while, on the flip side, you’re a pretty happy, nice person. How do the two sides co-exist and where does the darkness come from?
LA: I was a sensitive child. As a kid, whenever I was in a funk, my mother would give me a disappointed look and say, “You were such a happy baby.” I see the fuck-upedness of the society I live in as much as anyone who’s paying any attention. I don’t carry it like I used to, though. I don’t take it to heart as much. But I’m still aware of it all. I try to be as kind and funny and light as possible, because I know everyone is carrying their own weight, their own burdens. But I’m still intrigued by darker elements and they tend to rhyme the easiest and frankly murder is often a more interesting subject than marriage.
CS: Let’s say Def Leppard is leather and Queen is pleather – what fabric is Happy Talk Band and why?
LA: Feathers (made out of old, brittle duct tape that still sticks)
