All Your Friends brings an indie dance soundtrack to The Parish on Friday, the kind of night built for singalong hooks and big-room bass. Local DJs lean into bloghouse and nu-disco alongside remixed alt favorites, moving from LCD-style chug to glossy pop edits without losing the groove. Doors at 8 pm, music at 9 pm, and it runs like a proper club set with momentum and smart pacing. It is a focused, unfussy party that keeps the floor busy.

The Parish is the intimate upstairs room at House of Blues, a sweet spot for dance nights and left-of-center touring acts. The low stage and tight sightlines pull the crowd close, and the sound is punchy without muddy low end. Capacity sits in the few-hundred range, so it fills fast when the groove hits. Staff keeps things moving, bars are easy to reach, and the lights feel clubby while still reading like a live music room.

Roadway7 returns with their alt folk setup, all close harmonies, dusty percussion, and patient storytelling. They pair well with Sarah Anjali, whose voice rides a warm, songwriter-forward strain of Americana. It is an early show at 7 pm in The Den, which suits their dynamic shifts and unamplified moments. Expect tunes that land somewhere between porch songs and late-night confessionals, with the players leaving just enough space for the melodies to linger.

The Den at Howlin' Wolf is the cozy side room in the Warehouse District, a bar-forward space with tables, local art, and a small stage near the front. It is where songwriters play up close and the room breathes. Service is quick, the mix favors vocals, and the crowd leans listening rather than loud. If the main room is the party, the Den is the conversation, and early sets shine here.

Krewe Boheme’s Absinthe Ball folds circus flair and rockabilly swagger into a proper Carnival night. LadyBEAST brings the sideshow sparkle, DJ Glittercock keeps the floor restless between sets, and Rory Danger and the Danger Dangers fire off surf-swing romps with New Orleans bite. Doors at 9 pm, and the whole thing plays like a fever-dream cabaret, equal parts costume party and rowdy concert, built for dancing and lingering in the spectacle.

Fillmore New Orleans sits upstairs at the casino with a polished GA floor, chandeliers overhead, and clean sightlines from the back rail. It handles big production without losing the club feel, and the in-house sound team knows how to make bass hit without blur. Bars are easy to reach, security is smooth, and there is room to roam when the party turns interactive. It is a strong fit for a costumed ball.

Jade Perdue eases into Saturday with a happy hour set that blends jazz phrasing, R&B glow, and piano-led originals. With Mark Brooks on bass and Geovane Santos on guitar, she stretches standards and folds in her own tunes without rushing the room. Show runs 4:30 to 6 pm, an early window that flatters her storyteller approach. It is a free, first-come performance, and she treats it like a full concert rather than background music.

Snug Harbor’s afternoon shows have a different hum than the late sets. The listening room stays intimate, and the adjacent restaurant keeps the pre-dinner flow steady. Staff knows how to keep chatter down so the dynamics land, and the acoustics reward small ensembles. On Frenchmen Street, Snug is the anchor that prioritizes clarity and focus, even when the block is buzzing outside.

Tarek Yamani returns with a trio that reframes jazz through Arabic rhythm and maqam, a kinetic language he calls Afro-Tarab. The Beirut-born pianist writes with sharp architecture and generous space for improvisation, and with Martin Masakowski and Peter Varnado on rhythm, the music lifts off. Two seatings, 7:30 and 9:30 pm, each crafted as a full arc rather than a jam marathon.

Snug Harbor’s main room is built for this kind of detail. The piano is maintained, the drum kit sits tight to the corner, and the mix keeps every contour of the bass audible. Two nightly seatings, quiet service, and a staff that protects the listening vibe. It is the rare room where complex rhythm feels physical without losing nuance.

Silverada, the Austin outfit formerly known as Mike and the Moonpies, brings its road-tough country rock to Mid-City. The new name rides the same core: lean songs, tight harmonies, and pedal steel shading that nods to the dancehall while reaching into cosmic Americana. Sunday at 8 pm, expect a band that can stretch a groove without losing the pocket, built on a decade of mileage and a fresh spark.

Chickie Wah Wah is a Canal Street staple, a listening room with real dance space and a house mix that flatters twang and Telecasters. The staff keeps it neighborhood-friendly, tables up front and elbow room by the bar. It draws songwriters, Texas vets, and local rhythm sections who know the room. It is one of the easiest places in town to actually hear a lyric and still get up and move.

Legends of the Dew Drop: Road to Rock and Roll turns Saturday brunch into a history lesson you can dance to, connecting the hotel’s R&B lineage with the early rock beat. Live players lean into second-line swing, backbeat shuffles, and crooner melodies that trace the room’s roots. Noon start, plenty of time to settle in while the band brings the story to life.

The Dew Drop Inn’s return is a gift to Central City. The hotel and lounge restore a landmark where pioneers once worked out the blueprint for modern rhythm and blues. The room feels fresh but honors the past, with a tight stage, warm lighting, and a staff that treats music as the point. Brunch here carries that history into the weekend without museum glass.

Rockin'1000 drops a thousand musicians onto one stage and turns stadium anthems into a single, roaring instrument. Drummers, guitarists, bassists, singers, all locked to the same downbeat, blasting through the classics with communal punch. What began as a one-off stunt now lands as a full concert experience, built for big choruses and wide-angle goosebumps. Saturday at 8 pm.

Caesars Superdome is a city unto itself, and the scale changes how rock hits. Lines move fast for a stadium show, the floor and lower bowl push waves of sound, and the sightlines hold even from the corners. It is not intimate, it is grand, and that fits this concept. Plan for volume, lights, and the kind of crowd energy only a dome can bottle.

The Unnaturals light the fuse for Krewe du Vieux night with reverb-heavy surf instrumentals and a tough, twangy engine. They slide from spy themes to desert shuffles without breaking a sweat, and the tunes land with rowdy charm, no vocals needed. Sets at 9 and 11 pm, timed to the parade’s pass, so the street and stage energy feed each other. First 100 advance tickets at $15 is a rare steal for this night.

On parade night Snug Harbor opens the wall and turns the space into one big, standing-room hang. The bars stay humming, the sound crew keeps the grit intact, and the crowd filters straight off Frenchmen. It is less hushed jazz club and more neighborhood party inside four walls. It serves as a shelter with volume while the procession rolls, and this corner reliably delivers.

Yusa brings a deep Havana pedigree to Frenchmen, folding Cuban songcraft, tres, bass, and voice into jazz-forward arrangements. A founding force in Interactivo, she writes with rhythmic bite and melodic ease, and since relocating to New Orleans she has sharpened that cross-current with local collaborators. Two seatings, 7:30 and 9:30 pm, and each one feels like an intimate conversation carried by groove.

The beauty of Snug Harbor for a set like this is the focus. The room keeps chatter down, the stage sounds present from every table, and the staff hits a cadence that respects the music. It is steps from the spill of the street but holds its own atmosphere. For hybrid Latin-jazz nights, the clarity and close quarters make every rhythmic detail land.