As illogical as it may be, I was initially annoyed by HBO’s Treme do to its rather blunt politics. Whether I agree or not with the political subtext of a program is not nearly as important to me as subtlety. Of course, subtlety in a post-Katrina New Orleans wouldn’t really make sense, now would it? So as I continued to come back to the show the superb writing and acting eventually won me over. But the initial aspect of the series that kept me coming back in those hard slogging first episodes, was the music. The vitality of New Orleans music; the communal aspect, or as Ken Burns may attribute, the “melting pot” style of dixieland jazz, added a layer of depth that made the stories of the musicians in Treme so intriguing. While the compositional aspects may be simple in comparison to anything post-bop, the enveloping vigor of the music has always impressed upon me. But the problem (as is the case with most jazz, really) with this proto form of the genre is that it is really meant to be a communal experience; on street corners or in smoky, cluttered saloons– not on record. So the biggest challenge facing a skilled (hell, legendary) musician such as Allen Toussaint when approaching this form of jazz– as he does here on The Bright Mississippi– isn’t necessarily the actual musicianship, but rather the capturing of that vitality inherent in the live performance.
To his credit he mostly succeeds, making the album more than simply a catalogue of traditional standards that it could have very well been. Though with a musician like Toussaint who has been around this music– the album is composed of songs written by the likes of Jelly Roll Morton, Django Reinhardt, Duke Ellington, Thelonious Monk, and so on– for so long, it shouldn’t really be a surprise to the listener. For his piano work has all the trademarks of a gifted arranger, taking the familiar melodies and stretching what they can do; colouring the notes and chords with dynamics like textures. Blending his runs or using mild rubato, he lets his piano sing on “Dear Old Southland” in an attempt to emulate that performative vitality. But it’s when things slow down a bit that the soul is really felt. The solo on the contemplative “Day Dream” may just be the best thing on here. As arranger and chief player it is immediately apparent that this is Toussaint’s record, and the other players are just that.
Though I would fret if the impression was that the supporting caste was in anyway lacking. On the contrary, Don Byron’s clarinet moves and pushes through a smooth solo that earns the tracks title “Egyptian Fantasy”. “Long Journey Home” is as much a full band piece as to be found on The Bright Mississippi with its outspoken horns and smokey vocals. The album itself isn’t necessarily perfect, though the fault more lies on where I began. There is only so much power to be the recorded medium can give jazz. Part of the genius is watching improvisation as it happens, not studying it upon repeated listens. So a jazz classic The Bright Mississippi is not. What it is though, is a tasteful and at times exquisite trip down to New Orleans to see where jazz all began. With the addition of some brilliant arrangements, the album takes on a more significant depth that makes it worth the price of admission.
