The other one got wiped in the time warp, so I figured I'd get it going again. Five episodes in this is one of my favorite shows ever. I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that it's my hometown that is the star of the show, but I also think the character development and acting have both been superb. Some people will get bored by the fact that there's not much action but I'm fascinated by the story. Plus as a Wire fan I love seeing some of the same actors in action again. I thought I knew a lot about New Orleans, and while I get the majority of the references there's still a lot that I don't pick up on until the 2nd time I watch the episode or after I read the blogs.
Here's the NPR blog on episode 5: http://www.npr.org/blogs/ablogsupreme/2010/05/10/126695563/-treme-episode-5-struttin-with-some-bbq#more 'Treme,' Episode 5: Struttin' With Some Southern Cooking by Patrick Jarenwattananon and Josh Jackson So you know when, in episode five of Treme, those four big-time chefs come in from New York to eat at Janette's restaurant? She makes a point not to "out New York" them, but still hits them with artful Southern cooking: sweet potato andouille shrimp soup, rabbit kidneys wrapped in bacon lardons, crawfish and grits, lamb, etc. Janette impresses those guys, and they seem loose and relaxed. It seems to me to be saying something to the effect of "we do it our own way here" — but still at a very high level, objectively speaking. Well-stated. Negotiating the line between New Orleans and New York has its rewards, whether you're a big chief, a big chef, or Louis Armstrong. Negotiating your way through a plate of grits and grillades versus a pastrami sandwich is helpful to understand the difference. Oh, hello again Josh Jackson of WBGO. You know, I can see a theoretical parallel scene in my head: Delmond is going to show up in a later episode with a bunch of New York jazz musicians, and they're going to be really impressed with the local talent. They should be. Connecting to the music of New Orleans can be a powerful experience. On that note ... Patrick Jarenwattananon: Ok, first order of business: who are all those guys who Davis McAlary cajoles to play for him? I recognized Kermit Ruffins of course, and saxophonist Ben Ellman from Galactic ... others look familiar, but I can't put names on them myself. Josh Jackson: He asks the Pfister Sisters to sing back-up vocals. That's Jimbo Walsh on bass, and Derek Freeman, a protege of Shannon Powell, on drums. The actual Davis Rogan is on piano and sucking crawfish heads. Tyrus Chapman on trombone. PJ: There's a woman alto player in that batch too. There haven't been a lot of female musicians — and even fewer instrumentalists — in the show so far. JJ: Aurora Nealand. She plays with the Panorama Jazz Band. They play the traditional style of New Orleans, klezmer, and other folkloric music. PJ: Ok, so they play an interpolation of "Shame, Shame, Shame." Why are the musicians suspicious of covering that song? Who's the Cosimo character the producer mentions? Who's Smiley Lewis? And then, of course, there's the political message behind the song: that the Federal government is actively trying to keep New Orleans' poor people from returning to the city, even though they represent New Orleans culture at its fullest. (It's notable that Albert Lambreaux goes on the war path for this cause too.) JJ: Smiley Lewis was a wonderful blues singer. He is revered in New Orleans, but curiously, he never made it big; Fats Domino eclipsed him on the national stage. Smiley recorded with Tuts Washington on Deluxe and later for Imperial Records, where Dave Bartholomew produced all those great sides for Lew Chudd in New York. The session men back then included Frank Fields, Huey "Piano" Smith, Earl Palmer, Walter "Papoose" Nelson, Lee Allen, Justin Adams, Red Tyler — all pioneers of rock 'n' roll. Cosimo Matassa recorded many of the sessions in a single room over J&M Music Shop on Rampart Street and Dumaine. Feel free to get the history in book form: I cannot recommend I Hear You Knockin' by Jeff Hannusch enough. Some people of New Orleans were very suspicious of the motivations behind the federal government's decisions immediately after the disaster, and rightfully so. The fact that so many of the poorest citizens are responsible for the richest parts of this nation's culture is no new idea. Most of this country has no clue exactly which things that make New Orleans great, other than what's been commodified into popular culture. Too often, that did not benefit the people who made it. Like Roy Blount says at the restaurant Upperline, while having dinner with friends, "There are times when rage is the only rational response." That includes appropriating Smiley Lewis. PJ: You know, there's some righteous anger at the Federal government and President Bush in that song, but as Creighton says in a YouTube rant at the beginning of the episode, New Orleans would forgive Bush if his administration would actually keep its promises. That sounds about right too. JJ: A quick history lesson may prove illuminating. In 1965, Hurricane Betsy destroyed New Orleans, and President Lyndon Baines Johnson was there within 24 hours. He came despite signing the Voting Rights Act that alienated the Dixiecrats who controlled Louisiana politics. Johnson even visited a school on St. Claude Avenue that was a makeshift refuge for mostly African American citizens. He then pledged to do what he could as the chief executive of our country. The Flood Control Act of 1965 followed, whereby the Corps of Engineers would supposedly solve all our problems ... Anyway, I found an interesting quote from Johnson at the time: Now, in times of distress, it's necessary that all the members of the family get together and lay aside any individual problems they have or any personal grievances and try to take care of the sick mother, and we've got a sick mother on our hands. And as I said the other night when I was there, we've got to cut out all the red tape. We've got to work around the clock. We've got to ignore hours. We've got to bear in mind that we exist for only one purpose and that's to the greatest good for the greatest number. And the people who've lost their homes, people who have lost their furniture, the people who have lost some of their crops and even their families are not going to be very interested in any individual differences between federal or state or local agencies." PJ: Moving on, I feel like the show made sure to make clear that Antoine's trombone benefactor was a wealthy Japanese person. Not another American from somewhere else in the country, but someone who was clearly a foreigner — and one who was very passionate about New Orleans jazz. Now, he was working with the Tipitina's Foundation, and there are a number of domestic efforts to help out New Orleans musicians. But I think the point there was that some Japanese people know about this slice of America's cultural heritage far better than most Americans do. JJ: "Japan, Japan?" Yes. America had better thank Japan and some other places for keeping certain aspects of our tradition afloat. I'm thankful for the support of agencies like the National Endowment for the Arts, but I think grassroots activism has always had a more direct power. The Tipitina's Foundation and the Jazz Foundation of America put instruments back in people's hands. You cannot underestimate that kind of investment. PJ: Antoine plays a little something for the Japanese man too: Kid Ory's solo on the Louis Armstrong Hot Five recording of "Struttin' With Some Barbecue." The trombonist Ory is one of the Japanese man's many heroes (he also cites the Hot Five recording of "You Made Me Love You"). Matter of fact, a lot of names get exchanged between him and Antoine: Alvin Batiste (no relation, fictional or otherwise), Shannon Powell, Germaine Bazzle, Honore Dutrey, Big Eye Louis, Big Jim Robinson, Thomas Valentine, and even that photo of King Oliver's Creole Jazz Band with Louis Armstrong holding a slide trumpet. JJ: Somewhere, slide trumpeter Steven Bernstein is smiling about that slide trumpet reference ... Yes, that's Ory's solo from the Hot Fives "Struttin' With Some Barbeque," and it is one of the exemplary models of the "tailgate" trombone style. Honore Dutrey was another early trombonist and a member of Joe "King" Oliver's band. Jim Robinson is another great trombonist. Big Eye Louis Nelson was a clarinetist, not to be confused with Louis Nelson the trombone player. Kid Thomas Valentine blew a mean trumpet. Shannon Powell and singer Germaine Bazzle are all part of the current jazz community of New Orleans. So was Alvin Batiste, who played clarinet and taught many of the many New Orleans modernists. A final note about the obscure "You Made Me Love You," one of the many maudlin Percy Venable lyrics that Louis Armstrong immortalized — "Sunset Cafe Stomp," "Irish Black Bottom," and "Big Butter and Egg Man From The West" being others. This song doesn't fit neatly in the (Eurocentrically-biased) narrative of Armstrong, the cornet player of high art. But his vocal solo on the third chorus is 32 bars of sheer genius, its novelty-song origin notwithstanding. PJ: So Annie is rehearsing some classical work — sounds like Bach or something Baroque — when Sonny walks in singing his take on "Junco Partner." There's some clash of cultures symbolism there, but it also brings to mind: a lot of people probably know that song as a Clash song, but it's very much a New Orleans blues. It references Angola prison, after all. JJ: This Sonny character is a hot mess. Drugs are bad, m'kay? I love The Clash, but there's way more to this song than their take on it. Try James Booker or Champion Jack Dupree for starters. "Junco Partner" comes from the old "Junker's Blues," and that junker style is a real piano tradition in New Orleans. You hear that melody in plenty of New Orleans music from Fats Domino and Lloyd Price to musicians today. PJ: Indeed, perhaps it's just me catching on to them, but there were an awful lot of inside references in this episode. King cake, the Sazerac cocktail, Abita Amber beer, the Vietnamese population at large, the cameos from humorist Roy Blount, Jr. and restaurateur JoAnn Clevenger, and this year's targets of the Krewe du Vieux satirical parade, including ex-governor Kathleen Blanco and ex-mayor Ray Nagin ... JJ: Don't leave out the Krewe du Vieux reference to was the Mystic Krewe of Spermes ... How can you not love an organization that meets in Ernie K-Doe's Mother-In-Law Lounge and promotes a mission of "exposing the world to the true nature of Mardi Gras — and in exposing ourselves to the world." C'est levee, baby! PJ: And then there's something filled with local color: the second line, featuring the music of the Rebirth Brass Band. A few notes about the parade. First, it's cold outside — it must be late December or January — but the turnout is greater than expected. Second, it seems like everyone is invited to join in, but it's certainly the African American population which is most visible. Third, it's unfortunately also very true to New Orleans of that time that there's a shooting: as we find out in a number of ways, violent crime is returning to the city as the people are too. JJ: Notice the real New Orleans street signs people carry to make a point: they say "Desire, Humanity, Pleasure." As to your third point, this fictional sequence for Treme is based on a real event: the All-Star Second Line Parade on Jan. 15, 2006. There was a shooting unrelated to the actual parade, and that became the nexus of NOPD's escalating battle with New Orleans culture post-Katrina. No amount of police detail can prevent senseless violence or score-settling. This issue between the duty to protect and the (literal and figurative) price on culture will get uglier. The wayward officers who pawned Antoine Batiste's trombone are not helping the department's cause much, either. PJ: Speaking of violence, a drunken Davis oversteps his bounds at a bar in the Treme regarding an incident about the N-word. As much as Davis feels some sense of ownership of New Orleans and the Treme — and does a lot for the neighborhood and the music scene — he's still just some foolish white guy. JJ: True dat. A man has got to know his limitations. Davis is maybe a little too impulsive to understand his role in the cultural pecking order. He's lucky it was just a really good punch, and not something more. PJ: Speaking of people who wind up screwed, Sonny's bouncer friend from episode four, who is ostensibly Hispanic and bilingual, finds employment as a day laborer. And then he moves out of or has to leave Sonny and Annie's place. Seems to some extent to be a commentary about the Latino community of New Orleans. JJ: There was a lot of tension created by the influx of Latino workers who were working to rebuild the city, undocumented or legal. When it comes to immigration, racism has no borders. All communities — black, brown, yellow, white — have a low appreciation for each other. The situation also worsens because of opportunists masking as contractors, etc. Meanwhile, the Vietnamese community rebuilds on its own. And some people are trying very desperately to return home. When they do, they're faced with enormous and trivial hurdles. Life's messy details are now really big issues. Who deserves to return? Who will stay? Is this really a zero-sum world, like Creighton says in an earlier episode? I'm reminded of the scene with Albert Lambreaux passing by Gralen Banks at City Hall, trying to square away the parade permits. Banks, a real-life member of the Black Men of Labor, is with Tamara Jackson from the Social Aid and Pleasure Task Force. They are heading off the permit issues with the police and city officials. Why do people put up with all these insults? Banks put it best in an NPR story: "I'd rather be in a FEMA trailer in New Orleans than in a penthouse anywhere else."
John Goodman's character has been my favorite, thus far. Every time he's on camera brings some sort of sarcastic value.
Another solid episode. I think the post-Katrina recovery can get them through season 1, but they need to find a compelling story line to carry them through season 2 and however long it lasts after that with the recovery as the backdrop.
Blog about episode 6: 'Treme,' Episode 6: Straight Ahead, Striving For Tone by Patrick Jarenwattananon and Josh Jackson Pot for potholes Hos for schools Always for pleasure Break all the rules —Davis Episode six of Treme begins and ends with outlandish political satire. Davis McAlary's self-amused campaign for city council launches, and launches the show, in earnest, parading down a wide avenue in a flatbed pickup truck blaring music, giving away CDs, and slapping strippers on their butts. Meanwhile, the whole Bernette family dresses as sperm as the Krewe du Vieux parade courses past, its highlight a giant float of then-mayor Ray Nagin in bed nursing an outsized nocturnal emission. It must be with a bit of a wink that the writers of Treme made John Goodman's Creighton wary of Zahn's Davis; they seem like kindred spirits as New Orleans apologists with loony streaks. Their aims aren't the same; the Krewe du Vieux simply lampoons major political figures, while Davis' council run is at least half-serious. But they're certainly more akin than Creighton wants to let on to. Davis' platform can't possibly win (especially if he wants to legalize illegal drug sales, as we learned from season three of The Wire), but it can act as a gadfly, speaking out on topics other candidates won't touch with absurd humor. If anger is occasionally a proper response to injustice (a la Creighton's "f—- you, you f——- f—s"), humor has just as much potential as a community statement. Enough of that. Josh Jackson of WBGO joins me again via email to talk about the episode's music (full playlist here), and whatever else comes to mind. Patrick Jarenwattananon: Okay, so this week in Delmond Lambreaux Makes Awkward Pronouncements About Jazz: Donald Harrison: I've always been down with tradition myself. Delmond Lambreaux: Yeah, I noticed. But you old school and cutting edge at the same time. Donald: That's New Orleans, young'un. Many styles, many traditions. Delmond: Yeah, but for me traditional is Bird and Diz playing "Salt Peanuts" at Massey Hall, with Bud Powell and Max Roach. Donald: And Charles Mingus on bass. Delmond: Right, exactly. If that weren't loaded enough, here's another thought. New Orleans doesn't seem particularly happy that just 'cause many of its jazz musicians didn't primarily follow bebop, it's been so written out of mainstream jazz and Official Jazz History that even a native son thinks it's a musical backwater. Josh Jackson: Well, there's Official Jazz History, and then there's the important information that falls into an outlier category. Delmond fails to understand that musicianship is the tradition, and it has had a special relationship to the city even today. For all the official recognition for Ornette Coleman as the last great genius of jazz (not my words), let's not forget he spent two formative years with the Lastie family in New Orleans, 'shedding with Ed Blackwell and other local musicians. I'm not excluding other people and other places from the narrative. I'm only suggesting that music has a certain appellation, or terroir, specific to the city. What distinguishes that "backwater" from a place like New York is that its music community is naturally self-renewing. Even the mighty New York relies heavily on importation. PJ: By the way, Delmond admires the other act on the Crescent City tour: banjo player Don Vappie and the Creole Jazz Serenaders. I must say I did, too. Who is this cat? JJ: Don Vappie is one of the best string players in New Orleans. He started out playing in funk bands, then migrated into the traditional music. He mostly plays the tenor banjo (four strings), as well as some six-string. Vappie deals with the Creole banjo players like Johnny St. Cyr and Danny Barker. He toured for a while with Preservation Hall, replacing Al Lewis. He and his wife Milly are some of my favorite people. I spoke with Don shortly after Katrina. He was then the subject of a lovely regional documentary for PBS, American Creole: New Orleans Reunion. PJ: You know, prominent New Orleans jazz musicians always struck me as having a complicated relationship to mugging for the camera, Louis Armstrong forward. Of course, they also seem to be genuinely happy to represent their hometown with its most visible cultural signifiers — perhaps because they realize its endangerment — as per this exchange: Donald: Tell you what. Let's go up there and do our set, and end with a little something from home. Delmond: Like what? Donald: "Iko." "Mardi Gras Mambo." "Saints." You gotta give the good people of Arizona a little of what they came to hear. Delmond: Just play our set, man. JJ: No harm in giving the people what they want, especially after playing an entire set of music that ultimately satisfies the artist. That's called being unselfish and knowing your audience. Or mugging, depending on your perspective. PJ: We hear a lot of Delmond "playing" with Donald Harrison. In Houston, they do a Charlie Parker-like tune, and bookend it with "Iko Iko." (Not my favorite version of that tune, I must admit.) And they play another modern jazz number at Snug Harbor. Tell me about Snug Harbor — I know it's supposed to be the modern jazz room in town. JJ: They play "Yardbird Delight" in Houston and "Quantum Leap" at Snug Harbor. The latter is from Harrison's upcoming recording. Snug Harbor Jazz Bistro is the anchor (pun intended) of modern jazz establishments in New Orleans. The late George Brumat originally opened a club called Faubourg in that space on Frenchmen Street. It failed, but Snug Harbor was established shortly afterward. George got back into the game when he bought Snug Harbor in the early '90s. Jason Patterson has been booking the club for as long as I can remember. George Brumat is a big reason why there's music on Frenchmen Street. The best part about Snug is that they paid musicians decently. Musicians could play modern music and not have to pass the hat. PJ: And at Snug Harbor, we see Donald Harrison encounter Delmond's father. In real life and in the show, Donald Harrison is a Big Chief, like his real-life father, Donald Harrison Sr. And then we actually see Delmond go to Mardi Gras Indian practice with his father's krewe. (Aside: "Shallow Water" is sounding really, really, good.) JJ: I like the end of that scene at Snug Harbor, the casual competitiveness between Donald and Albert, suggesting that they would be looking for one another on Mardi Gras Day. Then we see Big Chief Lambreaux teaching the new kid how to be the Spy Boy. There was a lot of emotional context in that scene. PJ: Moving on, Antoine actually gets a jazz gig himself, playing at a formal Mardi Gras Ball. We hear some rather, uh, measured takes of "Fly Me to the Moon" and "Take the A Train." Antoine takes a seemingly random solo that would probably get him fired in real life ... anyway, what is this ball business about? JJ: Mardi Gras balls are high-society events held by all the major krewes in the city, and there are also some balls that are unofficial records of carnival time. When Kermit talks about the gig, Antoine is reminiscing about playing during the M.O.M.s ball, a bacchanal of the, um, "highest" order. Antoine seems frustrated about playing those lame stock arrangements. I loved that "Take the Z Train" line. PJ: More live performances: While busking, Sonny and Annie's "Basin Street Blues" is a little bit off — perhaps a bit of musical foreshadowing there of the relationship drama later. You know, it seems Sonny's possessiveness simply won't work as a career move. Personally, you can be a monogamous musician, but professionally, you have to be as promiscuous as possible to make a living. JJ: Can we please get Annie the gig that will get her out of this relationship? I'm ready for Sonny to exit the stage. She has the talent to play a lot of music. He's busy reenacting Eric Clapton's "Cocaine." PJ: Okay, this week in inside references and cameos: Barq's root beer, creole mustard, Jacques Morial, Lee Allen, Cafe du Monde, Coco Robicheaux, Phil Frazier, Trombone Shorty's given name, and the melody of "Just a Closer Walk With Thee." JJ: Barq's: Always in a bottle, never in a can or plastic. I drank it by the gallon as a kid; that and Pop Rouge, a red cream soda. Creole mustard is spicy, and it contains the crushed mustard seed. Jacques Morial is the brother of former New Orleans Mayor Marc Morial, and the son of New Orleans' first black mayor, Ernest "Dutch" Morial. They're a New Orleans political dynasty as much as the Landrieu family, for better or for worse. Lee Allen was an amazing saxophonist who recorded tons of sessions at Cosimo Matassa's studio. Try to find his instrumental R&B tunes, especially "Walkin' With Mr. Lee." Annie goes to Café du Monde at the absolute best time — when there are no tourists. Phillip Frazier, leader of Rebirth Brass Band, revolutionized the sousaphone for brass ensembles. Coco Robichaux returns to Treme after we last saw him sacrificing a chicken at WWOZ. I'm afraid that we'll be hearing Antoine Batiste returning the favor and playing "Closer Walk With Thee" for his teacher, Danny Nelson, sometime soon. He's not looking so good. PJ: A more nuanced view of the police finally takes shape a bit when Toni goes to visit the ex-NOPD officer in Port Arthur, Texas. I mean, he did some irresponsible stuff, leaving his car and his responsibilities. But if you live out of your car for eight days in a post-apocalyptic soup, scrounging for scraps of food wherever you can find them, then you begin to understand something or other about why so many officers quit or were broken down or somehow were different following the storm. JJ: It explains some actions. There were a lot of law enforcement who were under enormous pressure to impose order on a chaos so complete that it consumed them. Sections of the NOPD were already dysfunctional. Katrina just blew off the cover. Some situations have a backstory, but there will be more responses from NOPD to come that are just inexplicable. I'm thinking of the Danziger Bridge Massacre, which I'm assuming will appear later in Treme. PJ: Here's another nice soapbox scenario: How Random House wants to pay Creighton Bernette to finish his book now that Katrina has captured the nation's imagination about New Orleans. And especially how they want him to dramatize it and make it have contemporary relevance. And how Creighton says something like, "New Orleans speaks for itself." And how the entire show is itself a dramatization of post-Katrina New Orleans. JJ: Some twisted logic buried in all that. I did like the comment about how Katrina nearly erases New Orleans from the map but puts it on the monetization map. This just about sums up the media's lust for tragedy, too. PJ: Speaking of Creighton's literary agent, there's a brass band greeting her at the airport. And later in the show, Antoine gets his mentor a gig playing at the airport, too. Live music at an airport! I didn't hear live music there myself, but I must say that Louis Armstrong International Airport had by far the best canned soundtrack I've ever heard in a terminal. JJ: New Orleans has always been a welcoming place for tourists. With all due respect to the aviator John Bevins Moisant, I'm happy that Moisant Field was renamed Louis Armstrong International Airport. PJ: Speaking of recorded music, I love how Albert Lambreaux is always listening to some classy old music. This week, it's alternately Nat King Cole's "I Was a Little Too Lonely" and a recording of Lester Young's "Lester Leaps In." Stan Getz's "Intoit." Any other recorded music strike you as working well? JJ: I liked Jon Cleary's "Got to Be More Careful" when Annie walks in on Sonny powdering his nose. That's not a plate of powdered sugar from beignets... Also, the scene in Snug Harbor featured background music from the Classic Ellis Marsalis Quartet with bassist Marshall Smith, drummer James Black and saxophonist Nat Perrilliat. Sounded like "Swingin at the Haven." [Ed. "Twelve's It"]. Ellis Marsalis has had a weekly gig at Snug since forever. It's still a joy to hear him. PJ: Even when he's laughing, Albert Lambreaux really only ever has two moods: dead serious and as serious as your life. When his councilman tries to buy his favor back with a FEMA trailer, man... Anyway, he says a line that strikes me as really important: that his people are "refugees in their own country." This whole "who gets to move back to New Orleans" thing is a pretty weighty issue. JJ: I still think Albert Lambreaux's offer to repair Lulu's crack in an earlier episode is maybe the best double entendre I've heard yet in Treme. But, yeah, the Big Chief is a very serious man, especially when he's looking out for his gang. There was a lot of anger about that term "refugee" as it was used in the press. I mean, we're talking about U.S. citizens here! Also, think about the conversation at the McAlary house, and the mother's "carefully euphemized racism" about using the aftermath of Katrina as a means of social engineering. We're getting into the heart of darkness with this topic. PJ: Finally, we close with the Krewe du Vieux parade, full of "spermes" and a float of former mayor Ray Nagin masturbating. There are real brass bands in there too — the Panorama Jazz Band and the Stooges Brass Band. Comment? JJ: Satire works best when it speaks for itself. I did, however, notice Aunt Mimi's tall white Port of Call go-cup, another reminder of George Brumat, who once owned the best hamburger joint in town. Port of Call is, oddly enough, the first place I went before our Jazz Fest extravaganza. It's still great.
no doubt, and especially watching it in the backdrop of this oil disaster makes it all the more poignant this show
Found a different blog that I like better. The other one really concentrates on the music while this one focuses more on the story. Here's the entry for episode 7: Treme Recap: Down Here in the City of Misrule "Stop resisting!" the cops yell at a character in Treme as they arrest him, and seriously, message received: I'm no longer resisting. How can I, after an episode so emotionally brutal and narratively satisfying? "Smoke My Peace Pipe" is tough to watch, but pretty amazing to behold. Find out who made a stand, who bowed out, and who lost faith after the jump. In a New Orleans courtroom, Toni, Ladonna, Mama, and the state's attorney appear in front of Judge Tim Reid. "In 22 years as a judge ... " he says, and the state's attorney gives an "uh-oh" look. He gives a long speech about how he often tries to defend New Orleans, but seriously, y'all, this is embarrassing. He apologizes to Mama and gives the state 72 hours to habeas the corpus. It is nice seeing Tim Reid again, and nicer still that Treme is leading to a little Frank's Place revival. I remember that show as an early example of the critic's favorite that, despite bounteous love from the press, no one ever watched — little wonder that David Simon is a fan. Credits! The Real Davis co-wrote this one! With David Mills, R.I.P. Albert Makes a Stand Albert and a couple of his crew cut a lock on Calliope and then sneak into one of the projects. He's staying in someone's mama's apartment and tells them to call the reporters as soon as he's in. Once the news trucks show up, Albert calls the cops, and soon there's a bona fide Media Event going on. After a nice calm interview with the local news, Albert retreats into the apartment and lets the cops pound on the door. Soon, other squatters are breaking in, and one hangs a banner from the window reading "MY HOME." Albert's visited by Sergeant Johnson of the NOPD's community-relations division. "Kind of a half-assed standoff," Albert complains. "We're not looking to start something," the sergeant replies. Johnson then gives Albert a politics lesson. If the voters wanted the projects open, they'd be open. But the people in New Orleans who vote — "black and white both" — haven't said boo. If Albert's still here tomorrow afternoon, he says, he'll be arrested. "Thank you for your visit, sergeant," Albert says, "and come again." So the next afternoon they come again, this time through the front door with a bad attitude. They close the shades and demand that he get on his knees. When he refuses, one cop says, "Fuck that Injun shit" and takes him down. "Stop resisting!" they shout. "Stop resisting!" Antoine Loses a Friend Antoine's playing in the airport welcome gig he'd originally set up for his old teacher, who's back in the hospital. The group is tight and fun, even though no one exactly loves getting paid by check. ("I look like Thurston Howell?" a disgruntled clarinetist asks.) It's Antoine who's disgruntled, though, when trombonist Troy Andrews and his trumpeter brother James come through the airport on their way back from the Portland Jazz Festival and spy Antoine at this $100-a-night gig. Soon they're sitting in, and Antone and Troy have a 'bone-off — Antoine's eventually forced to tip his cap. Because this is New Orleans, everyone in the airport sings along instead of being like, "You fuckers are pretty loud for an airport." Antoine's mentor dies, and at the funeral, a tear rolls down Antoine's cheek as he sees an old trombonist's coffin. (By the way, whoever that woman is singing absolutely DESTROYED "His Eye Is On the Sparrow.") The teacher's daughter gives Antoine her dad's trombone, but Antoine demurs and leaves it with family — her son. Davis Bows Out, and Janette Starts Again Davis delivers some more campaign EPs to a local record store, who's already sold 720 copies and is hungry for more. The disparity between this and his dusty, untouched consignments at Tower is hilarious. Nevertheless, Davis seems a little stymied in his next step, as a conversation with Jacques Morial yields some important issues, but ones that are hard to write funny songs about. "If New Orleans gets whiter," Morial points out, discussing how the infrastructure is failing black residents trying to return home, "the state slides from purple to red." Davis, ever practical, can't figure out anything that rhymes with "infrastructure." Morial looks around Davis's house and says, "Man, you could hide a dead hooker in here and no one'd know." Meanwhile, Janette sells her tablecloths to another chef (hey, Grub Street! Who is that?) and uses her "too little, too late" SBA loan to buy a trailer and fix it up as a guerrilla kitchen. She asks Jacques — who, by the way, seems to be sporting a fine pair of Hammer pants — if he wants in, but he's already gotten a new job. TRAGEDY! Someone start a petition right now, "MAKE SURE JACQUES GETS MORE SCENES WITH JANETTE ON TREME" — and I am not even kidding. Ladonna's brother-in-law, Judge Williams, meets Davis for lunch and tells him he's a fan. But then he gets serious and asks Davis to quit the race. He's polling at 4 percent but siphoning votes from the judge's candidate. "I am here to offer you something," Williams says, reaching into his pocket, and an overjoyed Davis asks, "A bribe?!" Williams gives him a get-out-of-jail-free card, literally — his cell-phone number on the back of a business card. Davis shakes on it. A sad-eyed Davis brings a basket of food to Janette's door. She apologizes for the state of her house, but he says, "I'm not company. I'm your friend." "With benefits," she says, smiling. "With or without," he replies, gently. She smiles and lets him in. So: With! At a pre–Mardi Gras street fair, Janette cooks on the Rolling Thunder Chef Express and Davis works the counter. That food looks good. "You gonna ditch me and sit in with the band?" she asks him. "Not a chance," he says, then looks wistfully at the band. Annie Blows It Busker Steve Earle sets Annie up with an audition for the Pineleaf Boys, a Cajun band going on a three-week Canadian tour. "I gotta talk to Sonny," she tells him. "I figured," he says. Sonny gives her a medium-to-large guilt trip before telling her, "If you wanna do it, you should do it." Despite sounding great when she practices, though, she completely blows the audition, in a scene that's really very tough to watch. "It's not about the notes," one of the flinty, wisdom-spouting Cajuns says. (Let's call him Ray!) "It's about the feelin' of the music. I'm just guessin' — you got trouble in your heart?" Ha, yes, she does have trouble in her heart, and Cajuns are mystical musical psychotherapists! Creighton, Toni, and Ladonna in the City of Misrule Creighton reads to his class from an 1880 Lafcadio Hearn essay about New Orleans. Hearn complains of fraud, civic idiocy, and the like, but ends: "But it is better to live here in sackcloth and ashes than it is to own the entire state of Ohio." "Day by day, year by year," Creighton pronounces, "New Orleans conjures moments of artistic clarity and urban transcendence that are the best that Americans as a people can hope for." With that in mind, Creighton takes his big box of novel research out to the back shed, fires up his computer, and stares at a blank screen, pausing only to bark at Toni now and then when she asks how it's going. Toni and Ladonna get access to a database with photos of every OPP prisoner held outside the parish. After flipping through a cavalcade of photos, Ladonna is furious — David isn't in there. Toni gets a list of all OPP prisoners who've died in custody, and Ladonna recognizes a name — her cousin, Jerome. "But he's alive," she says. Toni asks if maybe David could have taken Jerome's name, the way that Keevon White took his. "We're gonna have to look at this body," Toni says. Creighton prints out some pages — for a new YouTube rant, not his novel. He apologizes if he's making a pest of himself. "I would hate to exacerbate any sense of Katrina fatigue in the nation at large," he says. But soon his target is off Anderson Cooper and on his own city, where the initial post-storm solidarity has given way to the realities of a messy electoral campaign. Forget urban transcendence, Creighton says. Today's David Simon Thesis Statement is a doozy, and reflects the bitterness of this episode: "Down here in the city of misrule, we are always our own worst enemy." Elsewhere in the city of misrule, Toni and Ladonna have arrived at the endless sea of refrigerated semi trucks that house the city's unclaimed dead. Inside one of them is David's battered body, which Ladonna I.D.'s by nearly collapsing and fleeing into the parking lot. The examiner tells Toni that David's death certificate says he died of a cerebral hemorrhage after an accidental fall from the top bunk. Outside, Ladonna lights a cigarette and stares at the rows of trucks that stretch out before her, each holding brothers and sisters and sons and daughters of New Orleans. This sequence, by the way, is completely astonishing, reminiscent of the impact of all those bodies laid out in a high-school gym in The Wire. Ladonna tells the medical examiner that she will deal with arrangements after Mardi Gras. "He been here five months, he can be here a few days longer." Back at her mama's house, she lies about what she did that day, and then takes a drink. http://nymag.com/daily/entertainment/2010/05/treme_recap_down_here_in_the_c.html
Also line of the night: "I'm from the State of Texas ma'am. "No disrespect, but ya'll got a defective work ethic down here." So true, but I'm ok with that. All of you who aren't watching this show are missing out.
Spoiler i knew somebody cool was gonna be killed off. seemed like such a bitch made thing to do though.
FYI that was John Boutte singing Sam Cooke's "Bring It On Home" on Jeannette's porch He also wrote the Treme theme song
I miss Cray. I also hate that he was "inspired" by that shit ass Kate Chopin and that bullshit book Awakening.
its a flashback imo Spoiler to show what really happened to the brother and what everyone was doing just before Katrina
And this, folks, is why David Simon and Co. keep you coming back for more. I wasn't sure on my overall thoughts about Treme, but this lone episode got me hooked and looking forward to the next season.
What amazes me is that was one episode, but 90 minutes (no commercials) and it was better than half the shitty 90 minute movies I've paid money to see this year. to the cast/crew/writers etc.
Had been behind on the show the past few weeks, so I watched last weeks and the finale back to back. Was pissed at the end, because you could tell Crayton was done by everything he was doing that day. The extra goodbye with the wife and kid, the food he had, last smoke, etc. Really pissed me off that he would do that, left everyone hanging. Really good finale though. I like this show a lot, and am looking forward to season 2.
i dont want to read too much of this thread bc i havent seen the show but i loved the wire and was wondering how this show compares...
As a Wire fanatic I can tell you that nothing will stack up to that show. However, Treme is shot exactly like The Wire was. Same style, same acting (for the most part), same twists at the end of the season. It's a little slower than The Wire with less of a focus on violence and crime and more focus on a handful of different families' methods of recovery post-Katrina. Give it a shot, but keep in mind that it is slow developing.
By the way, the song that Steve Earle's character wrote with Annie that was played during the closing credits is going to be Earle's upcoming album.