Kenny Denton's Cajun Adventures The Search for Talent in Louisiana From My Book "There Ain't No Rules In Rock n Roll "

My relationship with Sonet Records in Sweden gave me the opportunity to work with Rockin' Dopsie. I also got to produce the Queen Ida album On A Saturday Night, Queen. Both Dopsie and Ida were seasoned artists in this foot-stomping, body-moving music. In 1992 I had an idea. I wanted to find a young Louisiana musician or band and mix the traditional Cajun music from Louisiana with a more modern computer-based recording style aimed at the younger record buying public. With naivety still playing a big part in my life I set off and headed to Southwest Louisiana to search the clubs and bars for a likely candidate. Rather than go straight to Louisiana I first stopped off in Austin, Texas to spend a few days with some good friends. I explained my idea to my Texas pals but they showed some serious trepidation about my safety, travelling into Cajun country by myself. To ease their concerns, I promised I would call them each day to confirm all was well I set off for Louisiana and headed for Mamou, a small town reputed to be the Cajun capital of the world, I hoped this would be the perfect place to start my search for a young artist. I arrived in Mamuo around 7.30 on a Saturday evening; it was like a ghost town waiting for a ghost. I found Fred’s Lounge Bar on Sixth Street and Chestnut, this was the place where it was all supposed to happen, the hub of the Mamou Cajun scene. On arriving at the bar, I stopped the car and looked out the window only to find to my dismay that Fred's was closed. Apparently, this musical feast started early on a Saturday morning and ended around lunchtime. As I cruised through the town in my brand-new red Chevrolet hire car the few people that were around were staring at me, this highly conspicuous stranger in their midst. I stood out like a rare steak on a vegetarian’s plate. This was making me feel quite uneasy, Mamuo really didn’t feel exactly alive with hospitality. With Fred’s lounge closed for the day and feeling tired, I decided to it was time to find somewhere to stay for the night but the only building I could locate claiming to be a hotel was a dilapidated two-storey hovel. With my sense of adventure and my overwhelming tiredness outweighing my common sense, I took a deep breath and decided I would stay there for the night. As I approached the entrance it was with mixed emotions I discovered it too was closed. Nearby there was a shop with a sign that said, "Honk and Go," it was a drive-in store where you just honked your car horn and someone from the store would come and serve you. I honked, I ordered a coke and a pack of cigarettes and asked the guy if there was a hotel locally, “Wont somewar carlean?” he replied. “I certainly do” I replied, “Wheell l i b, ya hav tar heyd bak ta Lafayette." As dusk was descending this seemed like a very good idea. Just as I was leaving, I spotted another bar, it looked promising, proclaiming to have live music. Unfortunately with all the pickup trucks and their rifles hanging in the back windows coupled with nightfall about to arrive, my enthusiasm to enter the nightlife of Mamuo was somewhat curbed. Heading back to the interstate I was totally absorbed in the music pumping from my car radio, but I did I notice in front of me a large pickup truck. There were three locals standing up in the back of the truck and I could see the customary rifle swinging in the rear window. The three men started making gestures and shouting in my direction, they looked about as friendly as a shark with a leg in its mouth. I had no desire to overtake them so I tried to keep my distance but as soon as I slowed down so did they. After what seemed like a lifetime of cat and mouse, they took a left turn off the road and with a huge sigh of relief I put the pedal to the metal until I arrived in Lafayette. It was only now the reality, danger and insanity of the task I was attempting began to dawn on me.