Folks, come gather round my stand and hear Satchmo's Happy Dixie Band. Now I know some people call it con, but right here is where the blues is born. Hear that music blue, just the thing that you'd like to strut to on the floor. Hear that slide trombone and the trumpet moan as you're clomping through the door. I'll guarantee that you'll never see like the likes of them again. Stomp your feet to the beat of my Dixie music, men. Everybody move and get right in the groove, there ain't nothing you can lose. Now right here's the spot where we all get hot with a nasty mess of blues. Here's the place to slap and spank the bass. The music, that's what I mean, is where the blues is born. And do you worry? Let me introduce Mr. Charlie Beal. Piano man, Kenny Spiel. Only got two hands, but that's a plenty. Because when he plays, it sounds like twenty. Here's Kid Ory on the horn, greatest slide man ever born. Plays trombone smith with a laughing note. No human being ever wrote. Yes, Barnaby Gardner's clarinet. You ain't never heard nothing like him yet. When he cuts loose, I know you'll roar. Mr. Begard, please give a pull. Yes, Bud Scott on his old guitar. Always smoking the big cigar. The rhythm man of great renown. Give a listen while he goes to town. Red Callender meet him face to face. He's the man that slaps the old bass. He started out with a violin. And the doggone thing grew up on him. And here's me, excuse my crust. Introduce myself, I must. I'm Slatsmo Armstrong, don't forget. I got to give out on the old carnet. © transcript Emily Beynon