Dr. John and the Lower 911

City That Care Forgot

(429)

This album might be the most powerful and emotionally naked recording in his long career. He lays to rest any notion that New Orleans has forgotten what happened on Aug. 29, 2005, or has forgiven what happened next. In its 13 tracks (purchases via iTunes receive a bonus track), the album takes aim at the Bush administration, FEMA’s tragic trailer-park solution, and the various social disasters aided and abetted by the White House.

But don’t expect minor-chord lamentations. This is New Orleans music. Throughout, the good doctor displays a wide emotional palette, achieving the novel combination of caustic lyrics against a backdrop of musical uplift. “Keep On Goin,’” the funk-laden tribute to perseverance that opens the album, couches that anger in a context of hopeful struggle.

“Time for a Change” and “Promises, Promises” feel as much like election-year calls for a change in Washington as they are shouts for changes in the afflicted city. “Black Gold” indicts the oil industry for its role in the environmental disasters in the Gulf of Mexico, as well as the ongoing disaster in Iraq.

Dr. John has attracted a high caliber of co-conspirators. Eric Clapton, Willie Nelson, Terence Blanchard and Ani DiFranco offer out-of-town contributions, but this isn’t a flyover event. The flavor here comes from Dr. John’s adroit use of the local talent. Almost half the album was co-written with Bobby Charles, a legendary Louisiana songwriter and progenitor of “swamp pop,” a blend of R&B, Cajun and zydeco rhythms. Wardell Quezergue, the veteran producer and bandleader revered in the Crescent City as “the Creole Beethoven,” arranges horns on some tracks.

The horn section itself is a Who’s Who of N’awlins players, including local legends Alonzo Bowens, James “12″ Andrews, Troy “Trombone Shorty” Andrews and Charlie Miller. With percussion by Kenneth “Afro” Williams (of the city’s celebrated Chocolate Milk Band) and Herman V. Ernest III, and zydeco star Terrance Simien, Dr. John’s cri de coeur reflects the emotional resonance of a homegrown project. Listen to “My People Need a Second Line” – you’re dared not to feel both the sadness of the situation and (when the song’s second half begins) the raucous triumph of the human spirit.

- Michael E. Ross