Singer Dayna Kurtz reveals the songs she wanted to sing but for different reasons didn’t.

Lulu and the Broadsides play Jazz Fest on Friday at 4:15 p.m. on the Lagniappe Stage, and for the occasion, singer Dayna Kurtz shares her Milky Way, the eight songs that map out their musical universe. In my 2022 review of their self-titled debut album, “it’s hard not to hear the real selling point being the sound of good musicians having fun together.” Kurtz can modulate her passions, but if she’s singing it, she’s feeling it and you are too. James Singleton, Robert Maché, Glenn Hartman and Randy Crafton understand that fitting exactly in the right place in a group and song is as musically powerful as breaking off a crazy solo, so the songs have their own integrity and don’t serve as vehicles to get to showcase moments.

Kurtz explains her choices, writing, “These are all songs that I thought to cover with the Broadsides, but loved them too much and didn’t feel like I could own them properly for one reason or another. I’m deeply drawn to them, and they all in some way informed the material I’ve written for us.

“And I’m sorry, there’s nine here. I whittled it down from 12. I say we throw in nine because even though Pluto has been downgraded, Vulcan, my true ruling planet, will be discovered someday soon, according to astrologers on TikTok.”

With that in mind …

Nina Simone – I Put a Spell on You.

When I was in my teens, into my 20s I had a really boring predilection for ‘pretty’ voices, so much so that I couldn’t even bear to listen to what I thought were ugly voices, like Dylan's, for long. Nina's voice was gorgeous, but she *allowed* unpretty shit to happen, and this song in particular was the bridge to my understanding that honest truth isn't often pretty, but in the hands of someone with brilliant chops like she had it is a million times more devastating in its impact. And that was the key that allowed me to appreciate Dylan, Leonard Cohen, Patti Smith. And god, the moment she sputter/scats to escort the sax player from his solo is one of my favorite moments in recorded music, ever. 

And to cover a song as iconic and singularly unhinged as Screamin' Jay Hawkins' version and deliver a more iconic and singularly unhinged version. That ain't easy. Hawkins' version was a little camp; he was in character. Hers was feral, terrifying. She and Aretha Franklin (the other pillar holding up my roof) are the only two singers who didn't cover songs so much as reinvent them anew in the canon. Their versions always blew everyone else's away.

“Strange Love” - Slim Harpo

I tried so hard to find my own way into covering this song. It’s just so off the wall charming and so perfect, but it’s his delivery, not the song itself. I had nothing to add to it, but lord, I love Slim Harpo.

“What Do You Know About Love” - Bo Diddley

That song is a master lesson in vocal commitment, man. He ain’t saying much—“What do you know about love, tell me”—but he means it. He aches.

“After all the Good is Gone” - Johnny Adams

Originally done by Conway Twitty. Nobody could turn a country tune into a 6/8 slow burn R&B ballad better than Johnny Adams. I love kicking a song into another genre entirely and do it a lot.

“Problems” - Mable John

Mable could tell a story, ya know? She has this conversational sort of authority. Never got her due, that one.  She should have been as big as Etta.  Astounding voice.  Her vocal runs are effortless. Her and Big Maybelle are probably my two favorite blues singers, and neither is as elevated by history as she should have been.

“Long Snake Moan” - PJ Harvey

I decided to cover another song from that record, “Down By the Water” which we turned into a Clifton Chenier style zydeco stomp. But “Long Snake Moan” is just so damned sexy and tough and wild.

“Politician Man” – Betty Davis

Everything Betty did, and the way she did it, and the person she was, was prescient. She was ahead of her time, her shit sounds fresh as hell, still.

“She’s So Tough” - Mink DeVille

I feel a real kinship with Willy. Neither of us really were an easy fit into the music scenes we were a part of, we’re both all over the map, stylistically. It probably can look like dilettantism, especially to people who've devoted their lives to studying one sort of music. But the two of us use wield genre like a paintbrush. We're serving the song, first. It's her story we're telling, and she can be demanding about it. Some songs want a mariachi band, some want you to yodel or scream. It served neither of our careers very well, I think. The music business likes neat labels to slap on our foreheads; it makes marketing easier. But it never made a whole lot of sense to me, writing/singing one kind of music. Probably why we both were so drawn to New Orleans. It really is the only place where dicking around in other musical sandboxes is a respectable choice. My band dicks around in really interesting sandboxes, and can hang with anything I throw at them. It's heaven. I have a half-assed plan to do a Mink DeVille tribute with the Broadsides.

“Slow Love” - Prince

We started as a blues dance band. Blues dance is slow, sexy, a little dirty. I’m still trying to write a booty song as good as one of Prince’s.

Dayna Kurtz will also play Buffa’s Lounge on Saturday from 9 p.m. to midnight with Robert Maché and BJ’s Lounge on Monday at 9 p.m. with a partner to be named later.