Culture
SEPTEMBER 2021 44
NEW MUSIC
B Y J U L I E O D E L L // 4 6
PERFORMING ARTS
A Q&A WITH
MAURICE
RUFFIN
NEXT GENERATION // 4 8
AUGMENTED
REALITY MEETS
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MUSIC
In the Way of Wonder
MUSICIAN, ARTIST, AND MOTHER JULIE ODELL IS MAKING SOMETHING NEW
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Story by Lauren Heffker • Photo by Olivia Perillo
hen I finally got in touch with Julie Odell to ask about her upcoming album, she was phoning from the kitchen of her sister’s family farm in Indiana corn country, in the midst of a flower harvest. She was telling me how the day before, she had accompanied her sister, Jessica, to an Amish produce auction, where they purchased three hundred and fifty pounds of tomatoes that would then be brokered off to different vegetable vendors by the time Odell returned home to New Orleans. Before her Midwest sojourn, the Odells had spent most of July off in the woods, soaking up the last weeks of summer in the green and blue foothills surrounding the Chattooga River, hiking, swimming, sunflower field frolicking, and whitewater rafting. For Odell, every day seems to be an opportunity to put herself in the way of wonder, whether it’s finger painting rainbow collages with her five-year-old wild child, Lilou, sewing up a storm ahead of any occasion worthy of a costume, or planning her thirty-second birthday party as a live show at a Franklinton farm after a year without an in-person performance, just for the sake of making some noise together again. The singer-songwriter has spent the better part of the past decade embedded in the New Orleans music scene, a fixture at local venues like Banks Street Bar, Gasa Gasa, The Music Box, One Eyed Jack’s, and Carnaval Lounge. Making a living as an artist runs in her blood. 44
S E P 2 1 // C O U N T R Y R O A D S M A G . C O M
Though she’s originally from Ruston ( ... and Covington, and Lafayette, too), Odell and her siblings were often on the road with their parents, who made their livelihoods as ceramic artists, traveling around the country to arts and craft festivals. Growing up this way, surrounded by roving artsy types who spent their days creating with only their hands and imagination, she never could foresee a fluorescent light future, tethered to a desk. Today, the musician’s life is one infused with whimsy and color thanks to a patchwork of side projects—Odell is one half of The Jelly Sisters, where she performs with Tiffany “Teddy” Lamson (also known as the vocalist of Lafayette-born indie-pop band GIVERS) and one third of Mosquito Eater, an experimental act with Jonathan Arceneaux and Anthony Cuccia, also known by his stage name The Night Janitor. Offstage, Odell is a mixed-media maker inspired by the swamps of her scattered South Louisiana upbringing. She often creates eye-catching posters for upcoming shows and occasionally updates her Etsy shop, Crystal Pony Co., with handmade tapestries, earrings, pottery, and prints, along with her online merch brand, Pink Pollen. Then there’s The Pepper Lantern, the “rainbow cuisine” supper clubstyle popup Odell has run with Vanessa Degrassi since 2014—the pair started the event as a “backyard speakeasy,” cooking a creative, seasonal vegan menu and hosting live music at their Seventh Ward home. After years spent gaining a foothold in the industry,
opening for headliners or sharing marquees, packing up gear and playing house shows, and dealing with a few shady and sexist club owners, Odell said she is now moving into the next phase of her career. All the relationships with other musicians she’s cultivated in the process have given her a network of support and an established niche in the who-knows-who of NOLA music. This close-knit community is important, because it contributed to what Odell recalls as a major turning point for her—her 2018 Solstice performance at the Marigny Opera House. Backed by a “tiny orchestra” of music-making friends and others who had volunteered to help with running sound tech, recording the show, and constructing the set—which Odell had designed with arches and bridges in mind—the end result was pure magic. “The whole arch symbol was such a perfect representation of that night for me because I did feel a little bit like I crossed over into another realm in the community, and within myself, just learning of different boundaries that I could push personally but also collaboratively,” she said. “I was always so afraid to collaborate because it’s hard for me to not do great in front of people, so this was something that I was totally terrified to do. But it was almost like entering into motherhood. I was like I have to keep doing things that totally freak me out, and because they’re things that I dream of all the time, and I don’t want to live my life and be like, ‘I cannot believe I didn’t do the thing because I was too afraid.’ And it all
