People Museum bring their neon-lit art pop back to Freret Street for a hometown Carnival set. The New Orleans duo of Claire Givens and Jeremy Phipps folds synth-pop hooks, brass textures, and rubbery bass into dance-floor catharsis, equally suited to headphones and parade routes. Expect the live rig to stretch songs into groove-forward vignettes. Los Angeles songwriter Maddy Kirgo opens at 8:45 pm, setting the tone before People Museum take the stage.

Gasa Gasa is the compact indie room on Freret that punches above its weight. The standing-floor space fits a couple hundred, with a tight stage, solid sightlines, and a backyard patio where sets spill into conversation. It books the city’s alt, funk, and electronic edges, the kind of shows that feel personal and a little scrappy. Sound is clean and loud without being harsh, and the staff keeps things moving even on busy Carnival weekends.

Geoff Tate brings Operation: Mindcrime to a close at House of Blues, revisiting Queensryche’s 1988 concept epic with the theatrical focus it deserves. His tenor still cuts through the mix, and the band leans into the album’s proggy tension and metal bite, from Revolution Calling to Eyes of a Stranger. Doors at 8, show at 9, a rare chance to hear the record front to back in the room where hard rock always lands heavy.

House of Blues New Orleans anchors Decatur Street with a main hall built for volume. The floor is general admission with a low pit energy, wrapped by a roomy balcony that gives clear sightlines and a welcome breather. It is the city’s reliable stop for touring rock, metal, and hip-hop, with a tuned PA and quick turnover between sets. The space is polished but still feels local, especially when the crowd knows the words.

Teena May slides into Snug Harbor’s Happy Hour series with a duo set that shows why her catalog has traveled from Brooklyn to Paris to New Orleans. She writes across country, folk, pop, and Americana, carried by an easy melodic sense and unguarded lyrics. For this 4:30 to 6 pm slot she is joined by violinist Tom Wotten, giving the songs a chamber-folk sheen that suits the room. It is a free performance, an unusually generous way to start a Saturday.

Snug Harbor is Frenchmen Street’s listening room, a classic brick-walled space where musicians want to be heard. The music room is intimate and focused, seated with small tables, while the adjacent restaurant handles dinner service before and after shows. Two-set nights are the norm, and the sound is honest, warm, and close. It is where standards, new originals, and quiet experiments all land with equal respect.

Katt Williams brings The Golden Age Tour to the arena, firing off that clipped, rhythmic delivery he has honed over two decades and a stack of specials. His stand-up swings from sharp social readouts to sideways personal detours, punctuated by the physical timing only he gets away with. This is a full-production night built for big rooms, and he knows how to work them. Show time is 8 pm.

Smoothie King Center is the big room on Dave Dixon Drive, home court for the Pelicans and the occasional blockbuster tour. For comedy, it switches to an end-stage setup with focused sound, wide sightlines, and plenty of concourse space to reset between bits. Parking is straightforward, access is simple from the ramps, and the staff is used to moving large crowds. It is the city’s arena-scale stage, plain and simple.

Southern Nights brings Dusky Waters, Marcella Simien, and Gina Leslie together in the round for an evening of songs and stories. It is a songwriter’s circle grounded in Southern roots, with harmonies bending between folk, soul, Creole rhythm, and Americana. The night closes with a shared tribute to Aretha Franklin, which suits this lineup’s vocal command. Early show at 7:30 pm, with a second set later.

At Snug Harbor, these writer-centric nights feel almost like a parlor session. The music room keeps chatter low and detail high, with piano onstage, a tight backline, and staff that knows how to turn a room between seatings. It sits at the quieter end of Frenchmen, a buffer from the street traffic. Slip into the restaurant next door if dinner is part of the plan.

Joshua Redman returns with his quartet, a modern tenor voice that balances post-bop fire and soulful lyricism. He moves easily from knotty lines to melodies that sing, guided by a rhythm section that can pivot on a dime. Expect sharp interplay, tunes from across his catalog, and some recent material that leans into song form. Downbeat rooms flatter this band’s dynamics, and the 7 pm start keeps the night crisp.

The New Orleans Jazz Market sits on Oretha Castle Haley as both venue and community anchor, home base for the city’s jazz orchestra and a showcase for national artists. The hall is comfortable and modern, with a clear PA, generous stage, and flexible seating that keeps the focus on the music. The lobby bar is a good pre-set meet-up, and the neighborhood location makes post-show options easy.

Jason Marsalis leads a tribute to Brian Wilson and the Beach Boys, recasting the harmonic puzzles of Pet Sounds and beyond through his vibraphone-centric lens. The youngest Marsalis has long split time between drums and vibes, and his bands swing with precision and wit. Here he leans into melody, turning those sun-shot themes into nimble jazz vehicles. Two shows, 7:30 and 9:30 pm.

Snug Harbor’s acoustics flatter the vibraphone, letting each note bloom without washing out the band. Seats are close to the stage, service is quiet, and the room rewards attention. It is an easy walk from the rest of Frenchmen but always feels removed from the din, especially on two-show nights like this. Settle in and listen.

Gasa U’s Mardi Gras Pregame lines up jazzy funk built for parade week, the kind of house band night where horn lines ride greasy grooves and the drums stay busy. It is a neighborhood shake-out at 8 pm that turns into a dance floor by the second tune, with players who know how to keep bodies loose and tempos tight. Think second-line spirit meeting late-night club pocket.

On Freret, Gasa Gasa thrives on nights like this, when the room fills early and the patio cycles between refills and air. The stage is low and immediate, the PA favors groove music, and the staff keeps the night laid back but efficient. It is a small-cap club that treats local bands like headliners and lets the party breathe without fuss.

Live Music and Brunch at the revived Dew Drop leans into the venue’s legacy, tracing the road to rock and roll through R&B, jump blues, and early soul. The house band treats the history with a working musician’s touch, more groove than museum, and noon is the right hour for it. It is an easy slide from eggs and coffee to a room moving in time.

The Dew Drop Inn’s return brought a landmark back to LaSalle Street, restoring the lounge where legends once broke new ground. The room feels fresh but keeps its mid-century bones, with a compact stage under warm light and a bar that hums through the afternoon. It is equal parts hotel hang and neighborhood spot, with sound tuned for live R&B and small-combo jazz.

LSD Clownsystem is exactly what it says on the tin, a clown-suited LCD Soundsystem cover band that takes the catalog from scruffy disco-punk to full-catharsis singalongs. The players know the parts cold and lean into the humor without winking it to death. It is a late show built for dancing and cathartic shout-alongs. Curtain at 9 pm.

The Joy Theater sits right on Canal, a restored 1940s movie house turned general-admission music room with a shallow rake and a comfortable balcony. Sightlines are clean, the floor can move, and the bar lines are quick. The booking skews from dance parties to indie tours and comedy, and the sound crew knows how to push a beat without losing the vocals.