Alicia Renee: aka Blue Eyes

June 2026

A New Orleans vocalist tells three stories to show how music and the Quarter work magic together, conjuring up the unexpected – and the miraculous.

~ by Alicia aka Blue Eyes Renee

This series is underwritten in part by:

Alicia Renee, AKA Blue Eyes at the Grammy Awards

Hello, my name is Alicia Renee, aka Blue Eyes. And now, my friends, here is the speech I’ve given hundreds of times at the start of my performances:

“Yes, I was born with these eyes. They’re not a gimmick. This is not cosplay; I have no hidden receipts in my closet. These are the natural eyes I was born with. It’s how my creator made me – even though there’s nothing wrong with wearing colored contacts.”

I am a Grammy-nominated vocalist and bandleader, singing jazz, gospel, blues, R&B, opera and more in multiple languages and across continents. I have performed before crowds on stages in the UK, Holland, Switzerland and Paris.

But New Orleans is home. More specifically, the French Quarter is home. And while I’m often at Quarter venues like Snug Harbor and the Jazz Museum, my favorite moments happen singing on the street.

This is where the Quarter becomes intimate, and you make a connection. You’re up close with people, and anything can happen. Most weeks, you can hear my voice echoing through the French Market and on Royal or Decatur streets.

Tonight I want to tell you about two kinds of magic: that of the Quarter, and that of music, in three acts.

Act 1: The Skinheads

Two years ago, I’m singing in front of Rouse’s on Royal and St. Peter. It’s around 11am on a weekday, and a nice crowd is forming.

As a performer, you develop intuition about the crowd before you. You can feel their energy. Are they hungry and restless? Are they relaxed and easy? Are they generous listeners or just passing through to the next boutique or bar?

In addition to the collective, you also tune into individuals. One part of you is singing, following the tempo and the notes. The other part of your brain is secretly online, noticing unique faces, eyes, stances, clothing, tattoos.

And that’s when I see them. Two men and one woman, walking my way. I register bald heads, combat boots and swastikas. Young, in their 20s.

Skinheads.

My vision tunnels and suddenly, the whole crowd before me becomes these two men and this woman. With their arrival, the whole block goes quiet.

I can feel them staring at me. I’m on high alert, but I keep singing while saying a little prayer, unsure how this will play out.

The three of them walk into a boutique. Then, the tallest of them crosses the street and walks toward me. I keep singing. I can feel hesitation from the audience. Some of them are afraid.

The guy reaches into his pocket, pulls money out and drops it in his bucket. “You have one of the most beautiful voices I’ve ever heard. Never stop singing,” he says.

As he walks away, the whole audience follows him with their eyes.

I breathe a sigh of thanks, and in my mind I hear a message, clear and strong: Blue, you just witnessed the power of music.

Act 2: Autumn Leaves

It’s 2023. Again, I’m singing in front of Rouses on Royal on a Tuesday morning. On these slow weekdays, the Quarter can host big names.

Sometimes, people whose faces and names we all know will risk venturing out. Maybe they’re wearing shades and a hat to be low-key incognito. It’s not uncommon to spot a superstar musician, artist, writer or actor.

I see three people approaching, walking up from Jackson Square. I clock one man and do a double take, because I think, “He looks like Eric Clapton; I need to hear this man’s voice.” The man walks right in front of me.

“Your voice,” he says. “You have one of the greatest voices I've ever heard. I’m serious. You literally have one of the greatest voices I ever heard.”

“Hi, my name’s Blue,” I say. “These are my natural eyes.” (Yes, folks, even in this moment, I am giving the short version of my performer’s speech!)

“I could hear you from Jackson Square. This is my daughter and my manager,” he nods. “I said, ‘we have to find where that voice is coming from.’ Could you sing Autumn Leaves?”

Of course, I sang it. Eric Clapton grows very still and starts crying. People around could feel the buzz and begin videoing. He asks to do a duet with me.

Eric Clapton and Blue Eyes on Royal Street

“Are you signed?” he asks. I say no. Eric pauses and says, “I understand. If you signed to a record label, you would be completely famous but completely broke. That’s the game.”

As the trio walked away, I felt my spirit soaring above the Rouse’s and to the Quarter rooftops. Later, his band reached out. We stay in touch: his children, his band and him.

For all the thousands of hours before half-interested crowds on the street, there are moments like these that feel like pure French Quarter magic.

Act 3: Gen Z Mob

Last August, I was singing on Decatur Street, right outside the Harley-Davidson store. Suddenly, I hear commotion and wonder if there’s a fight nearby.

Then, I see hundreds of people surrounding someone. One gentleman walks away from the crowd and I overhear him saying that it’s I Show Speed, a 21-year-old influencer who has more than 100 million followers on his social platforms.

From all the talk, I quickly learn that I Show Speed is a sports challenger who travels the world beating athletes in contests from wrestling to soccer to swimming.

I keep singing, and I’m assuming the mega-celebrity and his fans will keep going past Cafe Du Monde. I’m singing Billie Holiday’s All of Me. The moving mob swarms him, everyone trying to put a CD or painting in his hand, or to just shake his hand. I just keep singing, amid all the people and phones recording.

Instead of moving away from me, I see this super-fit kid superstar walking to me. When I finish the song, we are face-to-face.

“Hi, I’m Blue Eyes. These are my natural eyes,” I explain.

He asks, “Could you sing something else please?” I choose Nina’s Simone’s I Put A Spell on You followed by Etta James’ At Last.

@kaynedwyer @IShowSpeed ♬ original sound - KAYNE DWYER

Meanwhile, I Show Speed starts throwing wads of money at me! I learn later there were 43 million people watching that moment on his livestream.

“Those are her eyes, Chat,” he says to the camera.

Oh my god.

Suddenly, my TikTok account, which had been blowing up already, really went to the moon. I began getting millions of views.

And to this day, the Gen Z babies come to New Orleans and find me. This 20-and-under crowd was previously not my audience.

After my encounter with I Show Speed, they have become some of my biggest fans. They find me singing at the French Market and take a million selfies with me, saying, “We couldn’t leave New Orleans until we found you.”

Surprise: These kids love jazz. They even started Alicia Renee aka Blue Eyes jazz fan clubs! I never could have imagined this turn of events. It’s another testament to the power of music and the magic of the Quarter.

The longer I live here, the more I am astonished by the potency of music and the French Quarter: a power that transcends barriers, stereotypes, classicism, racism, and a connection beyond your wildest thoughts. There is something spiritual here, and I knew that as soon as my feet touched the Quarter’s watery, concrete-collapsing soil.

Willliam Bouroughs’ album cover for Seven Souls. Click to hear Alicia singing on the title cut on YouTube.

It’s why the Quarter draws artists of all types, including celebrities like beatnik poet William S. Burroughs, with whom I recorded an album, Seven Souls, in my teens.

It was full circle for me to learn this man, a renowned poet, lived in a house in Algiers in the late 1940s. Just across the river, he, too, felt the pull of this city.

And here I am tonight, our lives intersecting, as I celebrate my stories in a city we both made home.

What can I say? The Quarter is full of surprises. Music has been my method for unlocking its magic.

I’m Blue Eyes. These are my natural eyes, and this is my story. Thank you.

Find more about Alicia Renee’s music here.