You hear it before you see it. It’s a low-end thump of a bass drum vibrating in your chest, followed by the metallic shrill of a trumpet cutting through the heavy, humid air of the Treme. If you’re standing on a street corner in New Orleans on a Sunday afternoon, and you see a crowd of people carrying colorful umbrellas and wearing matching sashes, you aren't just looking at a parade. You are witnessing a second line band New Orleans ritual that has survived yellow fever, Jim Crow, and Hurricane Katrina. It’s the most authentic expression of joy and grief you will ever find in America.
Most tourists think a second line is just something that happens at weddings or when a convention comes to town. Honestly? That’s the "staged" version. The real thing is organized by Social Aid and Pleasure Clubs (SAPCs). These organizations date back to the 19th century when Black New Orleanians couldn't get insurance from white companies. They pooled their money to cover healthcare and funerals. The music was—and is—the public face of that community safety net.
The Raw Mechanics of the Second Line
The "First Line" consists of the brass band and the members of the club who have the permit for the parade. They’re the ones in the custom suits, often sweating through silk and wool because the tradition demands they look sharp regardless of the heat. Then there’s the second line. That’s everyone else. That’s you, me, and the guy selling cold water out of a plastic bin.
The music isn't the polite, seated jazz you hear in a concert hall. It’s loud. It’s messy. The second line band New Orleans style relies heavily on the "street beat," a syncopated rhythm that makes it physically impossible to stand still. You’ll hear the influence of West African drumming mixed with European military marches, but with a funkier, looser swing. Bands like the Treme Brass Band or the Rebirth Brass Band have spent decades refining this sound.
It’s not just about the notes. It’s about the "cut." When the snare drummer hits a specific roll, the whole crowd shifts. You’ll see people "buckjumping"—a high-energy, improvised dance that involves kicking legs high and pumping arms. It looks chaotic. It’s actually deeply rhythmic.
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Why the Music Actually Matters to the Neighborhoods
If you want to understand why these parades happen almost every Sunday from August to June, you have to look at the geography. These aren't downtown events. They wind through the Seventh Ward, the Treme, and Central City. For a few hours, the streets belong to the people, not the cars or the cops.
- Social Aid and Pleasure Clubs: Groups like the Zulu Social Aid & Pleasure Club or the Young Men Brass Band aren't just parade organizers; they are neighborhood backbones.
- The Funeral Tradition: The "jazz funeral" is the most famous iteration. It starts somber (dirges) and ends in a celebration (up-tempo numbers) to "cut the body loose."
- The Economy of the Street: From the vendors selling "yaka mein" to the brass players earning their living, the second line is a micro-economy.
Dr. Michael White, a legendary clarinetist and jazz scholar, often speaks about how the second line serves as a "cleansing" for the community. Life in New Orleans can be hard. The poverty rates are high, and the infrastructure is, frankly, a mess. But when that brass hits, for those four hours, none of that exists. There is a spiritual release in the music that acts as a collective therapy session.
The Great Misconception: It’s Not Just "Jazz"
People love to throw the word "jazz" around, but the modern second line band New Orleans scene is a melting pot. In the 1970s and 80s, groups like the Dirty Dozen Brass Band started incorporating bebop, funk, and R&B into the traditional marches. Later, the Soul Rebels and Hot 8 Brass Band brought in hip-hop influences.
If you go to a parade today, you’re just as likely to hear a brass arrangement of a Kendrick Lamar track as you are to hear "Bourbon Street Parade." This evolution keeps the tradition alive for younger generations. It’s not a museum piece. It’s a living, breathing, evolving organism.
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Some traditionalists hate it. They want the old-school hymns. But the street doesn't care about "tradition" in a vacuum; it cares about what moves the feet. If the kids stop dancing, the tradition dies. So, the music changes.
Finding a Real Sunday Parade
You won't find the real schedule on the official tourism boards usually. You have to check WWOZ 90.7 FM, the local community radio station. They post the "Takin’ It To The Streets" map every week. It tells you exactly where the "start" is (usually a bar or a club house), the "stops" (local taverns where the band rests and drinks), and the "disband" point.
A few tips if you actually go:
- Respect the line. Don't jump in between the club members and the band. Stay behind the band.
- Bring cash. You’ll want to buy a beer or water from the people following the parade with coolers.
- Hydrate. New Orleans humidity is no joke, and you will be dancing for miles.
- Watch your surroundings. These are neighborhood events, not sanitized tourist zones. Stay with the crowd.
The Struggle for Survival
It hasn't all been trombones and glitter. The city has a complicated relationship with the second line. In the mid-2000s, the city tried to hike the fees for police escorts and permits so high that many clubs almost went under. The community fought back, arguing that this was a violation of their First Amendment rights and a direct attack on Black culture.
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The ACLU got involved. The clubs won. But the pressure remains. Gentrification is changing the neighborhoods where these parades happen. New residents sometimes complain about the noise. It’s an old story: people move to a city for the "vibe" and then try to sue the vibe out of existence.
But the second line band New Orleans culture is resilient. It survived the banning of drums in Congo Square hundreds of years ago. It survived the destruction of the 1-10 overpass through the Treme. It will survive a few noise complaints.
A Legacy Written in Brass
When you see a kid as young as five years old blowing into a trumpet that’s almost as big as he is, you realize this isn't going anywhere. The apprenticeship is informal but rigorous. You learn by "following" the band for years before you’re ever allowed to play in it.
The music is passed down through ear and memory, not sheet music. It’s a language. And like any language, it’s most powerful when spoken—or played—in its home. The second line is the physical manifestation of New Orleans' refusal to stay down. It’s a celebration of being alive, right here, right now, despite everything.
Practical Next Steps for Experiencing New Orleans Brass Culture:
- Tune in to WWOZ: Before you even land in New Orleans, listen to WWOZ 90.7 FM online. Their "Takin' It To The Streets" segment is the gold standard for parade routes and club news.
- Visit Congo Square: Go to Armstrong Park. This is the literal birthplace of the rhythms that eventually became the second line. On Sundays, you might still catch drum circles that predate the brass bands.
- Support the Musicians: If you see a brass band playing on Frenchmen Street or at a Sunday parade, tip them. Most of these musicians are gig workers who rely on the community's direct support to keep the instruments in tune.
- Check the SAPC Calendar: Look for the "Backstreet Cultural Museum" in the Treme. They are the keepers of the history of the Social Aid and Pleasure Clubs and can often provide the most accurate context for upcoming parades.
- Learn the Etiquette: If you attend a funeral second line, stay on the sidewalk until the family and the band "cut the body loose" (usually signaled by a change from a slow dirge to a fast-paced song). Only then is it appropriate to join the street dance.