Big Easy Listening

Before hitting play on Harry Connick, Jr.'s latest album, Oh, My Nola, I solemnly swore that I wouldn't go easy on him just because it was a tribute to his hometown of New Orleans. No, I don't feel pity -- I'm a critic. Fortunately for my sake -- and the sake of my editors who, I suspect, did not want to field hate-mail from Louisiana -- it's quite good.\nA collection of songs either about New Orleans or by New Orleans composers (including Connick himself), Nola is surprisingly upbeat -- rather than stew on that city's tragedies, Connick launches into a celebration of its culture and musical history. As a result, he pulls together strands from funk, big band, musical theater, zydeco -- and, of course, the unique local variant of jazz. \nThings start nicely with a wonderfully off-beat take on Lee Dorsey's "Working in the Coal Mine," where the heavy brass and percussion elements are gradually overtaken by piano, trumpets and other lighter elements. The sad toil of the mine is taken over by a party (and it doesn't take much imagination to see the metaphor here). Other excellent covers include a spirited take on "Won't You Come Home, Bill Bailey?" (the spotlight stolen shamelessly by some fine barroom piano antics); the sunny, laid-back "Something You Got"; an absolutely raucous, barn-burning version of "Jambalaya (On the Bayou)"; a terrific, shuffling cover of the gospel standard "Elijah Rock"; the New Orleans jazz-heavy "Sheik of Araby"; and a version of "Hello Dolly" that puts to use all the big band power at Connick's disposal. \nAnd Connick's originals are no slouch either. "All These People" provides a touching portrait from the midst of flooded New Orleans. Title-track "Oh, My Nola" is a stomping, unabashed anthem to … guess where, and "Do Dat Thing" is a sexy hip-shaker (with a reverent shout-out to jazz greats who've passed on).\nNola does face one basic, predictable problem: The production is too smooth. This should help keep it from disrupting business at the coffee house or dining establishment, but it does a disservice to such soulful, vigorously realized tunes. For example, on high-energy numbers, horns that should rip and tear through the air slice past smooth-as-snot; and Connick's voice is preternaturally calm, even on numbers that, you'd think, could get pretty emotional. But, hey, more reason to see Connick and company live, right?