This page has The Coals
– the embers of the fire – past events
— An easy night that didn’t try too hard and didn’t need to
Friday, April 3, 2026
Doors at 6 PM — Music around 7 PM
$10 at the door
This wasn’t a big show.
It was the kind of night that works because it isn’t.
Boma Bango — LIVE at The Whirlybird
Wednesday, April 8, 2026
Doors at 6 PM — Music at 7 PM
$10 at the door / $12 online
A humid, hypnotic night where Congolese rumba met Southwest Louisiana air.
Reverb, rhythm, and something just slightly sideways in the best way.
The Lafayette Rhythm Devils were here!
with Dirk Powell & Amelia Powell
— Album Preview Show
Saturday, April 21Doors: 6 PM for cash bar — eat dinner before you come — Mama’s shrimp sliders for the still hungry and addicted…
Suggested Door Donation: $10 at the door ($12 online to help cover bank fees)
songs from her forthcoming album Requiem for a Sleepless Night
Join us for an intimate evening as singer-songwriter and banjo player Kelly Hunt shares songs from her forthcoming album Requiem for a Sleepless Night. Recorded at Dirk Powell’s Cypress House studio on Bayou Teche, the collection explores the space between waking and dreaming while moving through love, fear, and the search for meaning.
For this special preview at The Whirlybird, Hunt will be joined by producer and multi-instrumentalist Dirk Powell on fiddle, mandolin, electric guitar, and accordion, and by Amelia Powell on harmony vocals and guitar. In addition to new material, the trio will offer a set of personal and traditional favorites.
This promises to be an unforgettable night of collaborative music-making rooted in folk and Cajun traditions.
Kelly Hunt — Originally from Kansas City, singer-songwriter and banjo player Kelly Hunt draws deeply from American folk traditions while writing songs that feel both intimate and timeless. Her debut album Even the Sparrow earned praise for its haunting storytelling. Hunt’s forthcoming album Requiem for a Sleepless Night was produced by Dirk Powell at Cypress House, and she brings the project to The Whirlybird in the same collaborative spirit.
Dirk Powell — A multi-instrumentalist, producer, and composer, Dirk Powell learned banjo and fiddle from his Kentucky grandfather and has long been part of Louisiana’s Cajun and Creole music community. He has toured and recorded with artists such as Joan Baez, Rhiannon Giddens, and Eric Clapton. At The Whirlybird he will play fiddle, mandolin, electric guitar, and accordion.
Amelia Powell — Amelia Powell grew up in the bayous of Louisiana, immersed in Cajun music through her parents, Dirk Powell and Christine Balfa, and her grandfather, Cajun fiddle hero Dewey Balfa. A singer and guitarist, she is known for driving guitar rhythms and soulful lead and harmony vocals that bring warmth and depth to the trio’s sound.
Need directions? Email Jim at thewhirlybird@gmail.com.
The Whirlybird — March 12, 13 & 15
Three different sounds.
Three different energies.
One beautiful long weekend under the low wooden ceiling.
Singer-Songwriter Night
Thursday, March 12
Doors 6:00 PM
Music 7:00 PM
Donation: $10
Porch-born songwriting and stories carried on the wind. Songs that feel like they were written somewhere between a back porch and a long road.
Chas Justus
KC Jones
Kelly Hunt
Deep Pocket Jazz
Friday, March 13
Doors 6:00 PM
Music 7:00 PM
Donation: $10
A night for listeners who love the deep groove where improvisation and musicianship stretch out across the room.
Cindy Scott
Brian Seeger
Brad Walker
Cajun Sunday Dance
Sunday, March 15
Doors 6:00 PM
Music 7:00 PM
Donation: $10
A Sunday fais-do-do with the floor open and the accordion leading the way.
Randy Vidrine
Yvette Landry
Blake Miller
Chris Segura
Jimmy Breaux
Trouble Down Teche — Live at The Whirlybird
Friday, March 6 Doors at 6 PM — cash bar + Chef Jolie Meaux is cooking! It was Grant’s birthday this week – so CAKE Music around 7 PM
Y’all – Come on! g..g..git it!
Lundi Gras at The Bird!
Cash bar and food at 7
– The Revelers!!
WBRD 1008AM — FIELD REPORT “LUNDI GRAS, LOUPOGAROU, & THE JAMBALAYA QUESTION” (Filed from the edge of the dancefloor, where the bass meets the swamp) Now listen—this one happened right before Lundi Gras, when the Revelers was fixin’ to roll in like royalty, and the whole Whirlybird property had that pre-party electricity in the air… You know the feeling. Like even the folding chairs are standin’ up straighter. Like the string lights are practicin’ they glow. And Pop Squally—Lord help us—Pop was in rare form. Not ‘cause of the music. Not even ‘cause of the incoming Revelers. It was ‘cause Bruneaux’s jambalaya was rumored to be on deck. Pop had been talkin’ about that jambalaya like it was a sacred artifact. He said, “If Bruneaux got that pot goin’, I’m liable to forgive somebody I been mad at since 1997.” So there we were—back behind the Bird, where the bamboo makes a little hallway of hush, and the night smells like citrus, fryer oil, and somebody’s good decisions. Pop had his blackpot skillet set up low and slow, stirrin’ gravy like he was drawin’ a map to someplace safe. That’s when Loupgarou showed up. Not crashin’ the party— scoutin’ it. He stood out there in the dark like a bad idea with good timing. Sniffed the air once, twice… Then he looked at Pop and said, like he was askin’ a real question but hopin’ it wasn’t real:
“Pop,” he said, “why you keep tryin’ to save that place? Ain’t nobody savin’ nothin’ no more. They stream their songs now. They swipe their friends. They order their joy in a box with bubble wrap.”Pop didn’t even look up. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t argue. Just kept stirrin’ that gravy… like it was a weather system. Like it had currents. Like it knew where everything was headin’ before anybody admitted it. Then Pop said, calm as a man who’s already heard the end of the story:
“Boy,” he said, “you got it twisted.”And that’s when he told him. Pop pointed that spoon toward the Whirlybird like it was a compass needle. “See, Loupgarou… people think a place like this is just a stage. But it ain’t. It’s infrastructure.” Loupgarou’s ears twitched. Like he hated that word. Pop kept goin’. “Ain’t just music. It’s where folks come when life done wore ‘em thin and they need to borrow a little joy from the room. It’s where a young musician learns how to hold a crowd without hidin’ behind a screen. It’s where a couple can dance together without explainin’ nothin’. It’s where you can show up alone and leave with your shoulders dropped— like somebody finally turned the noise down inside you.” Loupgarou shifted his weight. Didn’t like how true it sounded. Truth always makes a monster itchy. Pop said, “And yeah… the world changed. Costs up. Crowds weird. Folks drink less. Landlords greedy. Condos everywhere. And everybody’s got a thousand entertainments in they pocket.” He paused and sniffed the air again. Then he said, soft, like he didn’t want to spook the moment: “But that don’t make places like The Whirlybird less important. It makes ‘em more important. Because now… it’s one of the last places left where people can still be human together.” Loupgarou stared toward the Bird. And right then—way off in the distance— you could hear somebody testin’ a mic. A little tap tap… like the room was clearin’ its throat. Pop’s eyes lit up. “Now,” he said, “you can howl at the modern world all you want…” Then he leaned toward Loupgarou and whispered like a man with priorities: “But if Bruneaux put that jambalaya out… you gon’ see me act right.” Loupgarou blinked. Then he muttered, barely audible: “…I do miss dancin’.” Pop smiled and went right back to stirrin’ that gravy like it was a plan.
WBRD 1008AM — Radio for the Restless Spirit Field Report Classification: Lundi Gras Weather / Community Infrastructure / Jambalaya-Driven Redemption
Help the Whirlybird wrestle with Utilizilla
Come warm yourself awhile…
Now Playing
This is getting filed in the Field Reports section – but first it’s hot on the mic.
WBRD FIELD REPORT – Lundi Gras and maybe why we do it
I know it’s hard times with a lot of hard feelings go’n ‘round. I heard someone today call someone else a monster. There is a lot of that.
Now at The Bird we’ve got a sayin’ — “It’s OK to be strange… just don’t be a stranger.” And Y’all… that got me think’n about Loupgarou… Ha ha… let me break that down Whirlybird-style.
Way down here in Yonder we call him the Loupgarou — and that ain’t just a spooky word folks throw around when the fog starts actin’ smart. It comes from loup… meanin’ wolf… and garou… meanin’ a man who’s been turned.
See, that’s the part people always skip past too fast. ’Cause it ain’t just “wolf-man” like some Halloween mask from the drugstore. It’s a man… first. A whole human heart in there… with a history… with a name… with a mama somewhere who still remembers what he used to look like.
Then somethin’ happens. Sometimes it’s a curse. Sometimes it’s shame. Sometimes it’s the kind of grief that don’t leave… it just grows hair and claws and starts walkin’ around at night.
And next thing you know… you got a creature in the cane breaks… eyes bright as bottle glass… paws silent as a secret… and that old human part of him still listenin’— like a radio left on low in the back room… hopin’ somebody’s voice might reach him.
So, Y’all, when we say Loupgarou, we’re really sayin’: be careful what you call a monster. Some of ‘em started out as somebody you’d’ve fed at your table.
Now… Lundi Gras? That’s the funny thing… On a night like that—with The Revelers playin’, Bruneaux cookin’, the Fiddle Bar pourin’, and the whole place hummin’ like a power line in love…
…here’s what I been think’n… even the “turned ones” get curious.
Even the wild ones pause out there in the dark like: “Lord… what is that sound?”
And if you listen close… real close… you can hear it in the music: A reminder that not everybody who got turned… is lost forever.
WBRD — Voice of the Restless Spirit (and on occasion, a kind heart)
Y’all… WBRD FIELD REPORT — LUNDI GRAS TRADITION
Every place with a heart has a Mardi Gras… but Lundi Gras… at The Whirlybird… is one of those traditions that don’t need explainin’ — it just needs good people, The Revelers’ music, and Bruneaux put’n somethin’ good on the fire.
Oh yes — and now we’ve even got a Whirlybird Fiddle Bar for them celebratory libations…
We’ve done this before… a few times… yeah you right!
Like that Lundi Gras / GRAMMY Send-Off Party back on Feb 8, 2016, when friends got together to help send The Revelers off to Los Angeles in proper fashion… same restless spirit, same loving heartbeat, same “we don’t let the good ones travel alone” kind of love.
And as the Lundi Gras tradition at the ’Bird goes… Bruneaux will be cooking! So food will be available for purchase — and in case you don’t know the rule: “You can’t eat beauty with a spoon, folk… unless Bruneaux cooked it.”
Check it out — and get you one… Jim’s new patch is up. Video clips are comin’.
Lundi Gras lives at The Bird…
WBRD — Voice of the Restless Spirit.
📡 WBRD FIELD REPORT
1008AM — Radio for the Restless Spirit
Filed from a quiet moment that didn’t look important till it was.
Nicky Butler, reportin’: Now that right there—that’s the lesson talkin’.
You ain’t learnin’ answers today, y’all. You’re learnin’ how to notice yourself learnin’. Whole different animal. Don’t spook easy. Don’t come when called.
Most folks I know collect conclusions like souvenirs—set ’em on a shelf, dust ’em off when company comes by. But you? You’re collectin’ questions. The kind that stay warm in the pocket and don’t jingle when you walk.
Here’s what might be showin’ itself, if you let it: Competence don’t always feel like confidence. Sometimes it feels like standin’ still long enough not to lie to yourself. Irritation? That’s often just curiosity wearin’ boots and scuffin’ up the floor before it sits down.
And when somethin’ slows you down—don’t cuss it right away. It might be tryin’ to show you where you actually are, not where you been pretendin’ to stand.
Or maybe—and this one’s old as dirt—you’re learnin’ the oldest trick there is: Wisdom don’t announce itself. It don’t knock. It don’t clear its throat. It just keeps askin’ better questions until you finally stop rushin’ past the door.
So yeah… you’re learnin’. What you’re learnin’? That’s still shapin’ its accent.
📻 WBRD 1008AM
Radio for the Restless Spirit.
If you’re hearin’ this, you’re right on time.
Y’all – Gotta just jump right in here – our friends, Wilson Savoy, Tony Davoren & Pete Dawson, are making us cry – this is Christy’s absolute, all-time favorite Christmas song – I wish y’all could have seen her face when she first discovered it – magic spontaneous joy – Merry Christmas! and we look forward to seeing you wonderful knuckleheads before and in the New Year. . . – and everyone else, of course: https://www.facebook.com/reel/1263836425553955 WBRD 1008AM — First Transmission
From the Back of the Room (Up Front)
Every now and then, the signal leaks into pictures.
This clip comes from a day shoot at The Whirlybird Compound during the filming of Pointe Noir.
No performances for the camera. No explanations. Just people workin’, waitin’, listenin’ — the way stories usually get made before anybody calls ’em art.
You don’t need to know what the film’s about. You don’t need context.
If you recognize the feeling, that’s enough.
(roll tape) — Nicky
PS — For folks who love David Cheramie:
Here’s a quiet, beautiful shot of him doin’ what he does best — keepin’ the story honest as script supervisor on set.
PPS: St. Landry Cinema will have a week-long engagement of the Louisiana-made feature film Pointe Noir, beginning Thursday, January 15 — and they’re kicking it off with a one-night-only opening celebration. OPENING NIGHT EVENT — THURSDAY, JANUARY 15, 2026
Y’all’re not late. (Yeah. That’s a word now.)
You’re just hearin’ and seein’ this when you’re ready. This ain’t a show, y’all. It’s a signal.
Sometimes it sounds like a story told too soft for the room. Sometimes it’s a fiddle catchin’ on a memory it didn’t mean to keep. Sometimes it’s silence long enough to notice your own breath again.
We don’t archive much around here. We pass things hand to hand. Voice to ear. Fire to fire.
If you’re listenin’ from a kitchen, a truck, a porch, or a place you didn’t plan to stay — that counts. If you don’t know what you’re listenin’ for — that counts too.
This signal doesn’t rush. It wanders. It waits. And when it speaks, it usually sounds familiar.
Stay as long as y’all need. Pop Squally, somewhere off-mic: “Don’t touch it yet. Let it find you.”