The 9:30 Club felt like a fever dream on October 5th - the kind you can only get from too much whiskey and the promise of something wild. It was as if the whole place was just waiting for the spark, like we were all characters in a sequel to The Blues Brothers, just about to hit the road. If Jake and Elwood had started their epic road race from the Palace Hotel Ballroom to Chicago and instead drove 830 miles straight into the heart of New Orleans, this was the exact kind of joint where they'd begin—the 9:30 Club, gritty, electric, and ready to explode.

As always, the road trip ahead would prove to be a voyage into the unknown with twists, turns, and joyous surprises. What sets these California troubadours apart from many bands is their unwavering commitment to the art of improvisation. The California Honeydrops embark on the voyage and take us all along for the ride - after all, The California Honeydrops don't have performances - they throw parties! Before they start their road trip, they pack the van with more brass, mojo, soul, and charisma than any other band we know.  The band's ringmaster, Lech Wierzynski (vocals/guitar/trumpet), put the keys into the ignition.  Lorenzo Loera (keys/guitar) took the cigarette lighter out and passed it onto Benjamin Malament (drums) and then Johnny Bones (saxophone).  Bones, the heart of the brass section, inspected the burnt-out lighter and passed it to Leon Cotter (saxophone/clarinet) and onto young wunderkind Oliver Tuttle (trombone).  Lastly, Beaumont Beaullieu, who recently played bass for the band and is now their second drummer, shrugged and handed the remnant of yesteryear to their newest bassist, Miles Blackwell.  Collectively, we flicked the cigarette lighter out of the window, put on our dark sunglasses, and prepared ourselves for the road trip of a lifetime - welcome to a California Honeydrops performance!

When the California Honeydrops took the stage, the room transformed.  The band is a rare intersection of California Soul and 1960's Rhythm & Blues with a second-to-none New Orleans brass band vibe.  The lights dimmed, and suddenly we were on the road with them —chasing that same elusive high that The Blues Brothers were after when they hit the gas on their mission from God. Except this time, the goal wasn't just a gig in New Orleans from Chicago. It was a blues band who picked up a second-line band along the way and decided to take the whole damn parade with them. 

Lech Wierzynski strutted to the microphone with his familiar Fender Jaguar in hand like it was his ticket out of town, and as the band kicked into their first groove, it was clear we were all getting in the Bluesmobile with them. This wasn't a regular night at the 9:30 Club. No, it felt like we'd just turned onto that endless highway with the windows down and a full tank of soul and blues.

The Honeydrops were like musical hitchhikers, picking up sounds and rhythms at every pit stop on their way to the Big Easy. And halfway through the set, you could almost feel it—like somewhere along the way, they'd pulled off at a dusty roadside joint and picked up a New Orleans second-line band to ride shotgun. Suddenly, the room was drenched in brass and syncopation, the rhythms tight but always loose enough to feel dangerous. You could close your eyes and imagine them pulling into Louisiana, horns blaring, tambourines shaking, the whole parade spilling out onto Bourbon Street like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The night had that rambling, lawless spirit of a road trip where you don't know exactly where you're going, but you know you'll get there in style.  At one point, Wierzynski joined the already rich brass band, and like an uninvited guest who shows up and makes the party unforgettable, the brass section roared new energy and vigor into what was almost more than the 9:30 Club could contain. Ben Malament's drums took on that signature New Orleans beat, pounding out rhythms that made it feel like we were marching through the French Quarter ourselves, while Johnny Bones' and Leon Cotter's sax swirled. Oliver Tuttle stunned and stupified us with his trombone like a mischievous street performer who'd hopped on board and refused to leave.

Lech, ever the ringleader, switching between his guitar and trumpet - like he was juggling musical directions, steering the band and the crowd with that same reckless confidence Jake Blues had when he floored it in the Bluesmobile. And just like Jake and Elwood picked up a ragtag crew of musicians and misfits along their journey, the Honeydrops felt like they'd gathered up every sound between here and New Orleans. They brought it all—soul, funk, blues, and that second-line brass, stirring the pot until it was one wild, uncontainable brew.  Like any New Orleans cook, the band added a little bit of samba and salsa spice to the evening's musical brew.  

With a slight pause in the party, Lech commented that the next song had not been played all that often until Oliver Tuttle joined the band.  Having seen the band prior to Tuttle's arrival, we can say that this baby-faced trombonist packs a powerful kick to The Honeydrop's already robust brass sound.  With a roar of approval, the band performed "Only Home I've Ever Known," with Tuttle kicking off this rarely heard song before the band segued to "A Higher Degree."

Like all great road trips, sometimes you have to pull over to the side of the road for a quick breather. Breaking it down, the band let their virtuosic brass section walk off stage to find that lighter and take a quick break offstage.  Lech picked up his acoustic guitar while Lorenzo switched to bass, and Benjamin picked up his washboard.  The trio were happy to banter with the audience, leading the venue in "Happy Birthday" to one audience member before launching into a toned-down "Pumpkin Pie" as Lech led the audience in the chorus of "Save it all for me." The trio would end their song roadside acoustic set with a hip-shaking "All Night Long." Before getting the band back into the van for their rumbling and stumbling journey home to New Orleans, Lech asked the crowd what they would like to hear next. The audience erupted into laughter and celebration when Lech's voice rang out, "Shit! Damm, I knew I shouldn't have called on you," before telling the audience they wanted to play some songs off their latest album, Keep On Diggin'.

When they ripped into "Like You Mean It," the room exploded. The groove hit like the band had just swung open the door of some half-hidden New Orleans bar at midnight, and we were all being pulled in. That second line pulse never let up, the brass calling out like a pied piper, pulling us deeper into the madness. It felt like we'd picked up the whole parade and just kept driving, a convoy of horns, drums, and swaying bodies, all of us riding that beat straight into the heart of the Crescent City.

And when The California Honeydrops finally wound down with "I Miss You Baby Pt. 1", it was like the end of the journey—the final stop after 829 miles of chaos, groove, and pure, sweaty joy. The second line energy lingered, the kind of music that stays with you long after the band has packed up and the lights have come back on.  We hadn't just seen a show; we'd been part of a musical road trip, one where the Honeydrops played the roles of the legendary Blues Brothers Band, and we were the lucky fools who got to tag along.

So when we stepped out of the 9:30 Club that night, the cool D.C. air hit us, but it felt like I was still somewhere deep in the South. Maybe it was the music, maybe it was the spirit of that mythical soulful brassy blues band we'd picked up somewhere between here, the Bay Area, Chicago, and New Orleans, but one thing was for sure — the road never really ends when you're with The California Honeydrops. The parade and the party keeps on marching! 

We look forward to The California Honeydrops' next party, err... visit to Washington, DC, where another unforgettable night of music shall ensue!