By Chris Hunt

New Orleans is a strange place. It is best known for decadent food, heavy drinking, great music and the occasional bared breast. Without a beach or a strip of a dozen casinos, it may be the only destination in the country that people go to for the soul purpose of drunken revelry. Walking the streets, it is easy to be overwhelmed by the beauty of the architecture, the eccentricity of the people and the high volume of options for alcohol. But if you can make it into the French Quarter, you can basically stumble anywhere you want to find music. Good or bad.

First off, New Orleans has a couple of things that are hard to comprehend. The first is music-blasting beads shops. Somehow, every other store in the French Quarter is a music blasting beads shop. All over Bourbon St. and Canal St., these places exist. How can 50 stores in the same area all sell the same thing and survive? Furthermore, they all have the same layout. Huge speakers in the doorway attacking your ears with terrible music, beads hanging from everywhere, and jazz or voodoo keepsakes and souvenir shot glasses in the back of the store. There are even more of these shops than the ingeniously, combined pizza and daiquiri shops, which, in themselves, are perhaps a column for another day.

A second odd phenomenon is this strange disc jockey and karaoke singer hybrid, employed by many of the bars. Some of them have a DJ playing music, and a man, or a woman or both, up on stage with a microphone giving commentary on the bar scene. Sometimes they tell jokes. Usually they sing along with the songs. Poorly I might add. They are kind of like MTV VJs at a bar. Let's call them BJs. Hmmm. On second though, let's call them Bar VJs. With all of the great live music on Bourbon Street, it's amazing that some bars, namely Club Razoo's and the Bourbon Street Blues Company, would employ a Bar VJ. I think the worst part about it was I kind of started to like the Bar VJs. When the bar wasn't crowded, they would crack jokes and try to invite newcomers from the street. When crowded, the Bar VJs facilitate contests and shots and fun. But still, it's no match for real live music, (and it's also a little tacky).

Because of, and oftentimes in spite of, the bars, the beads, the Bar VJs, the boobs, the drinking, the drunks and that unpleasant Bourbon Street smell, New Orleans is still one of the more intriguing cities in the country. Because when the DJ blasting Van Halen or Justin Timberlake can't be heard and the speakers from the beads shops are just out of range, the true indigenous sounds of the area begin to seep through. The native music of the city. Jazz. The Blues. Zydeco. Beyond the drunken revelry, quality authentic bands can be found throughout the rest of New Orleans.

I have to say the best music I heard on my last trip to New Orleans was, in fact, zydeco music. The dictionary defines zydeco as "popular music of southern Louisiana that combines French dance melodies, elements of Caribbean music, and the blues, played by small groups featuring the guitar, the accordion, and a washboard." That sounds accurate, but the words don't quite do justice to the actual sounds of Dwayne Dopsie & the Zydeco Hellraisers. I caught this band at The Old Opera House on Bourbon Street.

Dopsie put the most energy into a show since I witnessed Springsteen sweat up a storm last year. He played a funky accordion that would have Lawrence Welk, or any polka fan, cowering in the corner. His three-piece backing band was flawless. He even had the aforementioned washboard player, who at one point when into a wild three-minute spoons solo. The bar slowly filled up as street wanderers found their way to the source of the exceptional music.

On the dance floor, tourists began dancing with a local wearing a T-shirt that said "I'm too old to kiss your ass." It seemed somewhat appropriate. Zydeco music and its champions are pretty much all doing their own thing. Just because the craze is primarily New Orleanian does not make it any less enjoyable. I'm not surprised that zydeco has yet to catch on elsewhere in the country. Accordions are hard to pass off as "cool." But I've always abided by the rule: When in New Orleans, do as the Cajuns do. Or something like that. In the Old Opera House it was not hard to join the spirit. The energy was so high and the mood was so happy, that I felt like I was part of a moment much bigger than myself. In fact, I had the feeling that everyone in the bar felt like they had experienced some great musical moment. The funny thing is, I'm sure that happens every day on Bourbon Street.

That's why I know I'll be back. Maybe I'll head back for Jazzfest, an amazing collection of well-known and lesser known acts playing for ten days at the end of April. Or maybe I'll head back for Mardi Gras, where mayhem and even more music are easily found, and I'm sure the Bar VJs are in full-force. In a town where parties are everlasting, the food is great and the people are welcoming, it's not difficult to find something to do. So I'll probably just be there on a regular old day. I can go on the haunted cemetery tour, hit one of the many museums or wander the beautiful Garden District. Who am I kidding? I'll just be back at the Old Opera House listening to live music and waiting for a moment.