As much as any city I can think of, music and place are bound as tightly as they can be in my mental image of New Orleans.

Taylor Hicks, Open Door Cafe, Birmingham, AL, February, 2005

Louisiana, Louisiana
They’re tyrin’ to wash us away
They’re tryin’ to wash us away
Louisiana, Louisiana
They’re tryin’ to wash us away
They’re tryin’ to wash us away

President Coolidge came down in a railroad train
With a little fat man with a note-pad in his hand
The President say, “Little fat man isn’t it a shame what the river has done
To this poor crackers land.” - Randy Newman

Though this song was written about a flood that happened 80 years ago, it still has impact today. The 1927 flood was caused by unusually heavy rains, but the devastation and lack of support led many families to uproot and leave. Hard times can lead to new chances, and the influx of large numbers of African Americans forever changed the musical landscape of such cities as Chicago and Detroit.

But in the wake of Katrina, people hearing Newman’s song didn’t think of ancient history or the development of Chicago blues or the Motown sound. It instantly struck a chord when Katrina tore up the gulf coast in 2005 because of our vulnerability to nature, of course, but also because of the unspeakable inadequacies of the official preparation and response.

Here’s an NPR interview with songwriter Randy Newman. It includes an Aaronn Neville performance of the song.

Randy Newman on Louisiana 1927, NPR interview, September, 2005

The recording that leads this post is one that Hicks’ fans have treasured since first finding it a year ago, so it’s not surprising that news of his recent performance was very welcome. True, a reader here, wanted to combine some audio and partial concert video, and talking together, we both had the same idea: include images of the two floods this song evokes. Here’s the cool montage she created. She’ll give you some backstory on it in her comments:
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/v/mgiLN56tReg]

and now, a tangent:

After our discussions, I was really looking forward to seeing this piece. But I have to say, my first reaction was one of disconnect. The story, the performance and visuals all told of sorrow and devastation, so the elation of some audience members seemed out of psychic sync. The performance was in Louisiana, so if the jubilation is the reaction of the natives, I have nothing to say - it is their story and their grief and only they know what that song means to them at this point in time.

But I wondered if the cheers might also be a different kind of response. Not a response based on being personally touched by this tragedy, but also not a response to the emotional message of the performance. Maybe just jubilation at getting to hear a beloved song, or maybe just a live concert habit of always cheering vocally when pleased with a performance. So it brought up in my mind an old question: Is it important for the emotional response of the audience to more or less match the emotional intent of the performer? (and if so, to whom) When the performance is out there full-throttle, is it a sign of connection to see that the audience is bopping along in similar groove? When the performance is introspective, is it a sign of connection to see the audience quiet and reflective?

Obviously, the most rousing rock-out will leave some people unmoved, as will the most tender ballad - there’s nothing that performer or audience can do about that. If you can’t quite get where a performer is going, what do you do? I guess I’m mixed on this one. I sit if I feel like sitting, no matter how wild things might be, but I don’t always scream when I feel like screaming (maybe my mental health would be better if I did)

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