Tremè Brass Band - "Gimme My Money Back" (Arhoolie)

Parts of New Orleans are still underwater. Large portions of the populace remain displaced; their residences devoid of basic civil amenities like electricity, running water and working sewage. Hollow apologies for FEMA’s colossal fuck-up in the face of the disaster have come and gone. But saints be praised, Fats Domino was found safe and sound. If that last point reverberates with a bit of cynicism, so be it. Fats’ plight coupled with celebrity status made for good news copy. But his story was just one of hundreds of thousands of others, most of which will never receive a drop of reporter’s ink. Listening to this choice album by Tremè Brass Band over the weekend my thoughts went out to the members of the group, wondering about their whereabouts, their safety in relation to Katrina’s city-razing swathe, above all just wishing them the best. The nearly eighty-minute program here serves up a traditional Nawlins gumbo of joy and solemnity, powdered jazz stirred into a fizzy ameliorating concoction of liquid blues. Tremè celebrates Canal Street history with collective ears equally enamored of the more modern argots of postbop, funk and hip hop too.

The opening title jam ambles out on an infectious fatback meets Congo Square rhythm. Kirk Joseph’s moist tuba burbles a cool-stepping bass vamp as the saxes of Eliot “Stackman” Callier and Fredric Kemp riff and solo boisterously across the syncopations. The trumpets of James Andrews and the higher profile Kermit Ruffins (the pup of the band at “30”) join trombonist Corey Henry as a hot-blowing brass battery. Benny Jones, Sr. and Lionel Batiste, Sr. supply the serviceable snapping beats on snare and bass drums respectively, the latter man also furnishing raspy lyrics on the vociferous vocal numbers. Most of the men have direct ties to other city brass band royalty like the Rebirth and Dirty Dozen outfits. They cover the typical bases, delving into lengthy expositions of “Hindustan,” “Just a Closer Walk with Thee” and “The Old Rugged Cross” along with couple original blues. Four of the tunes even find a pair of fearless Japanese tourists joining the rambunctious professionals on borrowed banjo and piano. Some cuts are overly circuitous with a fair amount of ramshackle riffing replacing tightly rehearsed charts, but if anything the roughshod informality only adds to the listening experience. News agency opportunists from CNN to MSNBC have taken recently to expounding endlessly on the indomitable Spirit of New Orleans. It’s right here for the hearing as far as I’m concerned.