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Chris Klein and The Boulevards

Fill up a beer stein. Unwind and watch Chris Klein and the Boulevards. Watch the stars align.

Don Williams finger plucks the strings.
Don Williams finger plucks the strings.
Marisa L. Williams
Chris Klein and The Boulevards play BMC in NOLA.
Marisa L. Williams

There's no fire, flash or razzmatazz. It's slippin' back into a blind pig jazz. Music has a subtle pizzazz.

Chris' voice captures a bygone era. It's as soothing as aloe vera, with a dark undertone like a chimera.

Don Williams at his side, a smiling bassist with pride, who switches to Spanish style; Jekyll and Hyde.

Don's other project plays to a Latin crowd. Thundering in like a storm cloud, dance or be cowed.

The beat will suck any reluctant ones in. Feet move and faces grin. Dance yourself into a tailspin.

Stomp along to the bongo, like you're sloshing through the Congo. Pick up your feet like a flamingo.

Slow down the beat of the dance. Cuddle a loved one for sassy romance. Want to give love a chance?

Maybe that's not what you choose. Perhaps you feel a touch of the blues. Like rock and tattoos?

Yeah, Chris can do those, too. Want a permanent sketch of something taboo? Prefer red ink or blue?

Maybe you seen him on American Horror Story. Fraternity tattoos for glory. That show's kinda gory.

The Boulevards are not so scary. They're not blinding and glary, but they are usually pretty merry.

Don always has a smile on his face. Check out his new place. There's nice furniture in the space.

Live in an area to help rebuild the city. He gets into the nitty gritty, working with a law committee.

Grab a coat that's velvet and black. Tell me how you'll bounce back. Is there a back door track?

The music is smooth, like an excuse that can soothe, or sneaking off at an interlude; shrewd, not lewd.

The years have added more rock. There's less shuffle drum on this block. No organ on stock?

Peel back the years and layers. Remember five harmonica players? That was before Katrina's prayers.

Pop a champagne cork for the guys from California and New York. There's filming and acting a dork.

Years metamorphose and constantly change. No matter if estrange, the music continues to build range.

Whether adding an island flavor, or rock intrigue to savor, it's building a sound that grows in favor.

It's like a throwback to a speak easy. It's a dangerous charm, not cheesy, and very far from sleazy.

It's not race out for leathers, but a tasteful ruffling of the feathers, a perfect backdrop for get-togethers.

Dirty, nasty, yet suave and slick, cool as an ice pick. Pick up The Boulevards' album quick.

Go watch them down in The French Quarter. Dance and be a supporter. Squat low and get shorter.

See these guys just one time. You'll know it's worth dropping a dime. Forget worries and feel sublime.

Let music be your wormhole escape. Time warp and let jaw gape. Dance as the rhythm takes shape.

Before you realize it could begin, the beat has already sucked you in, and at the end you can only grin.

For more on Chris Klein and The Boulevards, visit The author of more than 100 books, Marisa Williams earned her Master's in Writing at the Johns Hopkins University. For more by Marisa, visit and

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