Keeper of a Lost Tongue
Evan Christopher didn't grow up in New Orleans, which makes what he's done there even more interesting. He's a California-raised clarinetist who fell hard for the Creole clarinet lineage — Sidney Bechet, Jimmie Noone, Barney Bigard — a style built on vocal inflection, blues phrasing, and a tone that bends and cries rather than sits politely in the middle of a chord. By the time he moved to New Orleans in the 1990s, that sound had mostly become museum music, something trotted out for tourists. Christopher decided it deserved better.
His main vehicle has been a long-running project called Clarinet Road, which isn't a fixed band so much as an ongoing argument that traditional New Orleans clarinet playing can hold its own in a modern setting without getting embalmed in nostalgia. He pairs the old vocabulary with contemporary harmony, Latin rhythm, even classical technique, and somehow it doesn't feel like a gimmick. You hear the Bechet vibrato, but you also hear a musician who's clearly spent time thinking about where that vibrato can actually go.
One of his most satisfying records is Django à la Créole (2009), where he folds Gypsy jazz guitar interplay into the Creole clarinet tradition and finds out the two things were basically cousins all along. It's a smart record, not a novelty one — the kind of album you put on for a friend who thinks they already know what New Orleans jazz sounds like, just to watch their assumptions get rearranged.
He's also been a steady presence in New Orleans itself, working alongside pianist Tom McDermott and other local musicians who care about keeping the city's music honest rather than frozen. Christopher isn't trying to replace the canon or tear it down. He's trying to keep it breathing, which is a quieter kind of achievement but a real one.
What strikes you listening to him over time is how unshowy the mission actually is. He's not chasing attention with pyrotechnics. He's chasing a sound — warm, reedy, conversational — and trusting that sound to carry the weight. That patience is probably why serious New Orleans musicians respect him even though he wasn't born there. He earned it the old-fashioned way, by playing the music right, night after night.