While Garnier doesn't lay claim to any Pelican State birthright, the French connection does run deep. Grandfather D'Jalma Garnier I, originally a fiddler from the hurricane-ridden Plaquemines Parish, was also a renowned cornetist in New Orleans Creole jazz circles. Garnier's father, D'Jalma Garnier II, also musically inclined, relocated from the city's seventh ward to Saint Paul, Minnesota, for its enlightened political climate.

Yet the Garniers' cultural values were never lost, as every family member was expected to play an instrument. Most are accomplished musicians, and several play (or have played) professionally. (Garnier's brother Tony played with Asleep at the Wheel during the 70s and is currently Bob Dylan's band leader.) It was in the twin cities that Garnier received his first exposure to violin, starting his study of classical music at the age of five with Ronald Balzac of the Minneapolis Symphony.

In the 60s, the Garniers moved to southern California to be closer to family and the Creole community. Garnier, by now an accomplished guitarist, dropped out of UCLA to spend three years studying jazz composition and arranging with respected film industry composer Lyle "Spud" Murphy. By the late 70s, Garnier headed for Austin for 15 years of constant gigging in everything from traditional jazz, rock-a-billy, blues, and R&B to funk, Tex-Mex, country, and even beat poetry — anything to hone chops and apply Murphy's teachings.

Playing jazz was where the heart was; it symbolized another branch of his family's Creole jazz roots. Garnier's father saw it that way too and asked his son to extend those roots further by learning his grandfather's Creole fiddle music. "My dad was just like the best man on earth," said Garnier. "When he asked that, I knew he gave it some thought, and I just said, 'Yes, send it to me and I'll learn 'em.' "

Within weeks of the fiddle's arrival, Garnier was cruising down the road. Younger brother André supplied a Canray Fontenot-"Bois Sec" Ardoin tape, and suddenly the family connections were coming together again. Stints with Austin's LeRoi Brothers and Ponty Bone's roots-rockin' Texas-brand of French music kindled the flame, yet the pivotal time came with the formation of the D'Jalma Garnier French Band. When Garnier wasn't cooking at Austin's five-star Cajun-Creole restaurant Blue Bayou, he was playing French music for the patrons' enjoyment. Still, it felt like something was missing by playing French music in the Lonestar state. "I really needed to be a Frenchman," said Garnier. "I needed to be under the scrutiny of it."

Along the way, Garnier had befriended Filé's accordionist Ward Lormand, who occasionally sat in with the French Band. It was Lormand who introduced Garnier to Creole fiddler Canray Fontenot, whom Garnier saw as a musical link to his grandfather. A series of visits followed, and eventually Garnier secured two separate Texas Folklife Resources grants to study with Fontenot in 1991 and 1993. Although many told Garnier that this could be done informally, Garnier felt the right way to study with Creole fiddlingfinest was through a grant. "When I met Canray, I knew teachers and he was the best," said Garnier. "He knew how to judge a student, he knew what to teach you next. He had an instinct about him. He's the master of it and always will be, and he'll be the best two hundred years from now."

Besides learning the rootsier style of Creole fiddling that's described as having a scratchy edge (versus slick, as in Cajun), Garnier gained a deeper appreciation for blues and New Orleans' Creole Jazz, which was Fontenot's favorite music. Yet the education of a lifetime wasn't limited to just notes and strings but dug deeply into the Creole paradigm as well.

Like accordionist and lifelong pal "Bois Sec" Ardoin, Fontenot saw himself as both a Frenchman and an African-American. Fontenot was an eloquent poet in French who could move between Creole and Cajun French with ease, using whichever patois to get his idea across. The man Garnier calls his surrogate grandfather preferred lyrical songs that expressed a French sentiment, disdaining simplistic zydeco tunes like "Oh Bye Bye." "[Fontenot] is one of our top songwriters," said Garnier. "It could be something simple like 'Allons Danser.' But he could get complicated too, like 'Les Plats Sont Tous Mis Sur La Table,' which means you're all set up. He paints a picture with that song."

Between '91 and '93, Garnier gigged off and on with Filé. When the band became a quintet, Garnier was in, with two objectives on his agenda: playing French music in French Louisiana and keeping Creole music alive. The band kept its close association with Fontenot, playing locally and touring Europe together after the elder fiddler's bout with chemotherapy.

Fontenot's passing in 1995 was another turning point for Garnier. "It was like the last old man had died. There was still some around, but to us it seemed like that was it, that's the last guy we could call up. Like all of sudden it's in our lap, and we're too young for this. We're not ready. In fact, Steve Riley told me, 'You're carrying on Canray.' And I said, 'I know.' I was thinking right then I changed, I started moving away from every Cajun lick I was playing and started playing Creole licks every time with Filé."

One of the things Fontenot had advised Garnier to do was his own research: archives, readings, anything to immerse himself culturally. By the time Filé was laying the groundwork for their third album, 1996's La Vie Marron, Garnier was ready with a pair of aces that reflected a strong Creole sentiment as a result of his cultural immersion. "Loup Garou Mange Pas Mes Enfants" ("Loup Garou Don't Eat My Children" ) is another spin on the French folkloric Loup Garou myth, (the werewolf who devours misbehaving kids but fears frogs) with humorous references to Lon Chaney and encyclopedias. Garnier's title song, "La Vie Marron" ("The Runaway Life"), is regarded by many in Acadiana as a modern day classic.

Garnier got the song's idea from Irene Whitfield's book of Louisiana Folksongs and other sources to assimilate perspectives of 19th century Creole life. The song is based on the Creole legend about Molouron, who was always escaping from slavery and dreamt of returning to Africa. "Slaves from this area would run into the Atchafalaya and stay there. So [Molouron] runs into the Atchafalaya and is trying to get back to Africa. And then I threw in how this guy wanted to be back in the arms of his wives, which is really African culture. He was going to put [the head of the king who sold him into slavery] on his pole, which meant he had status in Africa. It sounds kinda of cruel — it's really not American. It's Creole, and it's African, and I was trying to write something real about it."

On those rare occasions when Garnier isn't tearing it up with Filé, he's involved in other projects, such as playing Creole music with Ed and Danny Poullard in the group Poullard, Poullard, and Garnier. Due to the distance between them — Ed lives in Beaumont, Texas, and Danny heads the California Cajun Orchestra – the trio doesn't perform often. But for Garnier, it's another opportunity to play Creole music with those who've grown up in it. Additionally, Ed Poullard played with Fontenot for years at various festivals and has also studied with the Creole legend, courtesy of Texas Folklife Resources. Despite the distance obstacle, the threesome has also managed to record an appetizing set of Creole tunes, which they hope to wrap up soon.

Garnier's transition to folk music has been an interesting one, but not one where previous skills were abandoned. In 1998, he applied Murphy's training to compose and arrange Creole fiddle music for the modern dance Le Pain and the Ball at M'sieur Deer's, which was based on a Cajun folktale by Sharon Doucet (wife of BeauSoleil's Michael Doucet) and choreographed by Cissy Whipp. Garnier's hand-written score was a mixture of traditional and original material set to a slight avant-garde edge.

Just as Garnier's teachers have given to him, part of his mission in keeping Creole music alive includes teaching the younger generation. Along with Lor mand, he has taught Cajun-Creole music as part of a CODOFIL (Council for the Development of French in Louisiana) play. Similarly, under the Acadiana Arts Council's "Bright New Worlds" program, Garnier has taught Creole music and culture in predominantly black schools. Although there are many Cajun kids playing Creole fiddle, Garnier notes that there are virtually no people of color doing the same thing. To ignite interest in a room full of Keith Frank zydeco fans, Garnier takes them back to their roots and explains how the music is dying. At St. Antoine, Garnier has been surprised by the kids' avid interest. Although many are not French speakers, some have exposure from a grandmother living at home.

"I gave them the most complicated French phrases, and they hopped onto it. They had no problem differentiating, and they wanted to get up and dance, and I had so many last time, like a line of kids wanting to come up and play the fiddle. When I left that school, I was almost in tears. I was so impressed with those kids. I offered to teach there anytime those kids can get a hold of a fiddle, and if they want their lessons, give it to them, man. We really need them."

"D'Jalma's an amazing talent," said Lormand, who feels Garnier sounds more like Fontenot every day. "A good musician? Oh, yeah!" emphatically stated Ed Poullard. But Garnier's hardly stopping there. His most recent project has been learning the dying black stringband music of fiddlers John Lusk, Howard Armstrong, and others. Garnier sees the connection as another part of the African-American identity, which ties directly to the stringbands Fontenot and Calvin Carrier, one of zydeco's few fiddlers, had in their day. The project has just begun, but like the rest of Garnier's journey, the results will probably be intriguing.

"There hasn't been a lot of money," Garnier said reflectively of his career. "But it's been a wonderful, wonderful ride."