Gwen Thompkins

If you've never seen Sonny Landreth's hands glide over the fret of his slide guitar, you should. It's like watching someone touch the finest of silk.

Few piano players are as tall, glam and terrific as Marcia Ball. Born in Texas, raised in Louisiana and schooled in the dance halls and roadhouses of the Gulf South, Ball can't help but make you boogie woogie. That is, unless you wanna two-step. Or boogaloo. She does that too.

"If you can make 'em dance, money becomes a space problem."

Ball's songs are postcards of small town life in this region and the dilemmas that drive people to the choices they make.

This week, Music Inside Out features Louisiana musicians telling stories of their experiences around the world.

Alex McMurray, Shannon Powell, the Pfister Sisters and Jim McCormick couldn't sound more different on stage. But they're all road-tested, having talked, played, sung or cooked their way out of tight spots in Nashville, Germany, Greece and Japan.

Jon Cleary was born and raised in Britain, but didn't find the right groove until he reached New Orleans. His experience adds a whole new layer to the concept of "Home and Away."

This week, we bring you that funky gentleman in the Ninth Ward, Jon Cleary, who  joins us to talk about his native England, his grandmother, the piano back home, his mother's songwriting chops, and a variety of other loves.

The only thing more fun than talking to Shannon Powell is listening to him play. Powell is one of the most charismatic drummers to ever grace a stage. His secret? "I'm happy," Powell tells Music Inside Out. "I was a happy child. I'm a happy spirit."

As noggins in New Orleans go, there is no noggin like that of singer-songwriter Alex McMurray. He's got more original characters in his head than a Hollywood film library. 

Harmony, thy name is Pfister!

This week, the Pfister Sisters sing out and occasionally act out during a rollicking hour spent on jazz vocal harmonies.

Mezzo sopranos are often the bad girls of opera — the floozies, the gossips, the witches, the like. So how did a good girl like Givonna Joseph get mixed up with such characters? Turns out, bad girls have the most fun.

When John Boutté commits to a song, he tailors it like a suit from Savile Row, breaking down the lyrics then building them back up again to say exactly what he means. If a Paul Simon song conjures the image of early Americans sailing to the New World on the Mayflower ship, Boutté will sing the same song and mention early Americans who sailed on the slave ship Amistad. If Dave Bartholemew writes that the grass looks greener somewhere else, Boutté will sing that the grass is greener right here at home.