But the theme songs to the shows? If they have something in common, it's this: They are dastardly earworms disguised as Middle American ditties. I will achieve catharsis by dissecting them. Behold:

5. Arthur: The real Ziggy Marley sings fake reggae as if the '90s never ended. Sometimes I find myself absent-mindedly analyzing the arrangement, trying to discern if any of the musicians actually spent any time in the same room. Then I eat toast.

4. Martha Speaks: As far as I can tell, Garrison Keillor had absolutely nothing to do with this song, but it is packed with quirky prairie bonhomie and jazzy flair. But if you clench your fists and concentrate really hard, you can imagine the Fat Albert theme song comin' in on a giant warplane and droppin' funkbombs on it. The End.

3. Curious George: A competent romp by Dr. John. It communicates the potential violence of a chimpanzee much better than the Jack Johnson stuff from the movie. HEY JACK JOHNSON, IF THEY MAKE A THREE-TOED SLOTH MOVIE, YOU SHOULD MAKE SONGS FOR IT.

2. Sid The Science Kid: Uncut cocaine is the only explanation for this:

1. Super Why: Do not dwell on its surface sheen of self-help-expo pizazz and uptempo righteousness. If you do, you eventually will encounter a chasm of emptiness inside of you. Instead, think of the song as a Chic jam that really lost its way. My hope is that someday a bright teen will post a "bass cover" of it on YouTube. Like, y'know, instead of covering Kansas or Mudvayne. Those are pretty funny, though.

As Michael J. West noted here nearly a month ago, the Library of Congress’s Larry Appelbaum has been presenting jazz and jazz-related films on Wednesdays for free throughout the month of April in the sixty seat Mary Pickford Theater (3rd floor of the Library’s James Madison building).  This is a quick reminder that tonight, Wednesday April 22, the Library will be showing the 2006 documentary “New Orlean Music in Exile,” with director Robert Mugge on hand to introduce the 113 minute film that includes blues, soul, brass band, jazz, and rock musicians.

Per the title, the movie examines the impact of Hurricane Katrina on the Crescent City music scene with footage of Dr. John, Irma Thomas, Cyril Neville, Marcia Ball, the recently deceased Eddie Bo, Theresa Andersson, Kermit Ruffins, The Iguanas, ReBirth Brass Band, and others. Director Mugge, who attended college in Baltimore, has been making music documentaries since the 1970s.  He has captured for the big screen such quintessential American performers as Sun Ra, Al Green, Sonny Rollins, RL Burnside, BB King and many more, including countless performers from the bayou state. With the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival starting Friday April 24, this seems like a good week for this flick.

Reservations may be made by phone for the movie or you can show up at the Pickford Theater and hope for empty seats. Call (202) 707-5677 for a reservation between 9:00 am and 4:00 pm. Reserved seats must be claimed at least 10 minutes before show time, after which standbys will be admitted to unclaimed seats.   The Library of Congress James Madison Building is located at 101 Independence Ave SE, between 1st & 2nd Streets.

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Raphael Saadiq and Dr. John are both on tour at present, peddling different brands of regressively delightful music to packed, loyal audiences. The Doctor (Mac Rebennack, to get technical) and Saadiq (né Wiggins) wear their influences on their sleeves and dress in full-on vintage: Rebennack in voodoo regalia, Saadiq in a chickadee-yellow suit and oversize horn-rims.

The distinction, of course, is that Saadiq's throwback pose is provisional; the Doctor's is dynastic.

Headliner John Legend has been filling houses for Saadiq during the pair's national tour that closed two days ago. That's fine, if it means more people listening to Saadiq—but mainly it means sitting through most of Evolver after the livelier performer (with the better band) has already left the stage. Legend struts and takes his cheese seriously; Saadiq dances and seems to acknowledge that the salvation/procreation dyad of contemporary R&B is about as synthetic as a modern soulman who channels Curtis Mayfield.

Dr. John dances too, in a sense—if that's what you call the frenzied Dixie wobblings that ensued whenever the sexua-(nearly septua-)genarian stood up for a break from the ivories. "Pull ya pants up...ooh, that's just unnecessary," drummer Herman Ernest III chided as Dr. John demonstrated an unusual two-step for the audience. "I know: it's hard with the prosthetics." These moments were special, but also left the band lacking the dirty-ass center of its sound—Dr. John's swampy piano, without which the group regressed into a generic species of funk. The high point of the set was the funereal, "Ballad of a Thin Man"-type take on "When the Saints Go Marchin' In"—as fine a eulogy for the Doctor's Katrina-ravaged home as anything on City That Care Forgot, the critically admired disc behind which the Lower 911 is touring.

Saadiq's recent Katrina tribute—"Big Easy," which gets a nice treatment from the Rebirth Brass Band on the album—shined on Tuesday night, courtesy of some beautiful, warbly trumpet. But Saadiq reserves his grooviest arrangements for a more playful subcategory of the fuck anthem than anything in the Legend songbook—such that when he tells a girl that he "want[s] some sex" and proposes a walk outside, it's not background music, nor some cosmic event: it just is what it is.

...and what it is has a hell of a lot more to do with Dr. John singing "Makin' Whoopee" than with Legend on "Take Me Away."

Photograph by Brian Reed

Photograph by Brian Reed