O.C. POP MUSIC REVIEW : Doug Kershaw Places His Ragin’ Cajun on Autopilot

When Doug Kershaw first gained national notice from a 1969 appearance on Johnny Cash’s network-TV variety show, his swamp hollers and sawing fiddle work seemed just one more example of the rampant individualism in popular music that was then also bringing us the likes of Dr. John, “the Night-tripper.” Mention would be made of Kershaw’s Louisiana Cajun heritage, but he was regarded as if he were the last member of the tribe. To this day, his publicity material says he is “one of the few surviving members of a disappearing American culture.”

But, just as it turned out that Dr. John (Mac Rebennack to the IRS) was mainly repackaging a chunk of New Orleans’ rich musical heritage, “Ragin’ Cajun” Kershaw, it is now apparent, was but one exponent of a vital, crowded musical culture. There are still plenty of folks sawing and hollering down in Louisiana’s bayous. And judging by the Southern California Cajun & Zydeco Festival held in Long Beach just over a week before Kershaw’s shows Monday at the Crazy Horse Steak House, that culture has no intention of disappearing any time soon.

In contrast to most of the performers featured at that two-day event, Kershaw seemed during his show to be paddling up a dry creek. Beausoleil’s Michael Doucet may not kick up his heels or shimmy like a bag of eels the way Kershaw does, but Doucet’s fiddle playing can call out every bit of sadness and joy in Acadiana’s long and difficult history. And Beausoleil has both a mastery of the music’s traditions and a questing drive to find new means of expressing that tradition.

Kershaw, meanwhile, seemed to run through most of his familiar tunes on autopilot, giving the responsive late-show crowd far less of a performance than he delivered last year at the ill-fated Hampton’s nightclub in Santa Ana. Fortunately, he’s so idiosyncratic that even his idle speed can be pretty entertaining.

His hawkish features and Reagan-black hair (though 55 now, he hasn’t a hint of gray) were accompanied by a fringed cowboy shirt, flared black slacks and a belt buckle the size of a pancake. That whole assemblage was in constant motion as Kershaw whirled and fiddled, playing his violin in every position except crooked under his chin where most other players keep it. He ran through a routine set, including “My Toot Toot” (which he performed on a Cajun diatonic button accordion), “Mama’s Got the Know-How,” Rodney Crowell’s “Louisiana Saturday Night” and a rhythmically revamped version of Hank Williams’ “Jambalaya.”

The two songs most associated with Kershaw are “Louisiana Man” and “Diggy Liggy Lo.” Both were country hits in the early ‘60s, when he and his brother performed as Rusty & Doug, and solo pop-chart successes in 1969 when he was discovered by the rock audience.

Curiously, “Diggy Liggy Lo” was played in a thoroughly offhanded manner Monday, while “Louisiana Man” was given a languorous arrangement in which Kershaw’s vocal and bowing touched on the immediacy that used to be his strongest suit two decades ago.

The only other affecting moment in the set was one that showed nothing of his Cajun roots. Introducing a new country-ish song, “I Feel Just Like You,” Kershaw said it was the first tune he had written since he stopped drinking, composed at a time when he said he doubted he could even write without drink. The song, which he accompanied on acoustic guitar, had an awkward, unfinished quality that added to its direct, simple lyric, which said goodby to his old life.

Other players may be better at expressing the Cajun culture, and others, such as the fabulous accordionist Jo-el Sonnier, may be better at getting it on the charts now, but if Kershaw can come up with more such material that rings true to himself, there will always be a place for him.