Description

Davell Crawford, the “Piano Prince of New Orleans,” reflects on the tragedy of the events surrounding Hurricane Katrina and the complex emotions associated with that event 20 years later with the release of the single “The Walls of New Orleans”. In a long heartfelt artist’s note explaining how and why he wrote the song Crawford admits, even 20 years later, “still, I cannot assemble the words to convey how I felt watching my city gasp for air under that turbid, murky brown water.” Crawford goes on to catalog the complex gamut of emotions he has experienced and still experiences related to Hurricane Katrina: sadness and mourning, physical and emotional loss, anger, pain, and ultimately a decision to believe in Faith in a time of extreme turmoil.

The song “The Walls of New Orleans” touches on these themes with a delicate arrangement primarily featuring guitar and piano, a warm vocal performance by Crawford, and backing vocals by The Davell Crawford Singers providing a lush gospel-tinge to the track. Mirroring the varied emotions explored in the themes of the song, it’s mood is both mournful and hopeful, reminiscent of the slower works of Roberta Flack (godmother of Davell Crawford), presenting a quiet, gentle beauty. With lyrics packed with metaphor, Crawford presents this song as a “survival hymn” addressed to the survivors of Hurricane Katrina, whose message can be appreciated by anyone going through difficult times. In his own words, “every note is a tear shed, but also a raised fist and a hand reaching back to pull someone else up and carry them beyond the walls.” It’s a reflection of one person’s experience that can hopefully help those wrestling with similar emotions, and encourage people to lift each other up in times of strife.

“The Walls of New Orleans” conveys the empathic message that a traumatic event such as Hurricane Katrina will bring forth many different emotions, and there is no simple way to summarize that experience and those emotions, but we can attempt to process through the creation of art and music–a skill Davell Crawford has been abundantly blessed with.

Crawford explains the line “but I still linger here / within these walls I’m with you dear,” is an address to his community, “to remind them that even when I’m gone, my heart will remain here, in New Orleans… always.” He expresses not just a love of New Orleans, but the love that exists in the people of New Orleans, “a love so strong and so stubborn, that the love somehow continuously finds a way to bloom out of the concrete and brick walls. A love so strong it blossoms from deep underwater higher than the leveled currents of the Mississippi.”

“I intentionally held the release of this song, “The Walls of New Orleans” for this very time 20 years after Hurricane Katrina,” Crawford affirms, “and now I am gifting it to you just as I planned—on my terms and conditions, and at the exact time God directed me to let it go and give it to you.”

Crawford concludes his message with a simple note of hope for the perseverance of New Orleans: “You’ll never drown a city that has learned to breathe underwater, and New Orleans is that very city.”

“The Walls of New Orleans” will be released on the 20^th anniversary of the failure of the levees in New Orleans during Hurricane Katrina, August 29, 2025. It will be available as a digital download from the Basin Street Records website and on all major digital music streaming and download platforms.

Liner Notes

“The Walls of New Orleans”
Written and arranged by Davell Crawford (Crawpita Music, BMI)

Lyrics:

I see the people and
The remnants of the past
The best, the good and of the bad
Why do they seem so sad… so sad

The haunted memories
And broken shattered dreams
Of how my life’s supposed to be
You promised it to me… you promised it to me

So now I look beyond the walls
I walk on water by faith in God
It’s hard for you to see… hard for you to see
No longer hide behind the face
But live in God’s amazing grace
I wish that you could see… wish that you could see
Beyond the walls of New Orleans

But still I linger here
Within these walls I’m with you dear
I’ll stay with you when I’m not here
In the walls of New Orleans

So now I look beyond the walls
I walk on water by faith in god
It’s hard for you to see… hard for you to see
No longer hide behind the face
But live in God’s amazing grace
I wish that you could see… wish that you could see
Beyond the walls of New Orleans
Beyond the walls of New Orleans

Personnel:

Davell Crawford – Vocals, Piano, Hammond B3, Keyboards
Derwin “Big D“ Perkins – Guitar
Mark Brooks – Bass
Joseph Dyson, Jr. – Drums

The Davell Crawford Singers:
Anthony Bailey
Emmanuel Burke
Veronica Downs Dorsey
Veronique Dorsey
Shawn Hampton
LaTasha S. Jordan
Eric Poindexter
Min. Jackie Tolbert

Credits:

Conceptualized, Written, Arranged, Produced and Purr–formed by: Davell Crawford™ for Soulspel Music™

Recorded October 2011 – August 4, 2012 at The Music Shed, New Orleans, LA

Engineered By: David Farrell

Mastering: Vlado Meller, Masterdisk, NYC

Management: Suzanne M. Koga, SuzanneK@RobertaFlack.com

Booking: davellcrawfordmanagement@gmail.com

UPC: 652905140727

ISRC: USBAS2500101

©2025 ℗2013 BASIN STREET RECORDS. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ANY UNAUTHORIZED DUPLICATION IS A VIOLATION OF APPLICABLE LAWS.

Artist’s Note:

THE SONG, “THE WALLS OF NEW ORLEANS”, WHY AND HOW I WROTE IT

The day the levees broke, a huge piece of my soul drowned. I was in Brazil and due to fly back to the United States, August 29, 2005, the very day the levees failed. To this day, still, I cannot assemble the words to convey how I felt watching my city gasp for air under that turbid, murky brown water. To me, New Orleans wasn’t just a place, it was my grandmother’s sophistication and wisdom which she freely shared with community. It was the women of her beauty shop getting their hair done up, spilling tea, gossiping and cackling while sipping on wine and enjoying grapes, cheese and crackers, telling low down dirty R-Rated grown-up stories and then stories filled with life lessons and spiritual awakening, the sounds of second line parades, the scene of young children leaving school while blasting their horns in the streets, gospel choirs singing and dancing, and the smells of the best food in the world. New Orleans was all these things and so much more for everybody, everywhere, every day, all the time. Hurricane Katrina, in my opinion, ripped through New Orleans with a vigorous evil leaving nothing but destruction while handing out 0% mercy to the people and the city—it shattered and destroyed lifetimes.

I thought, “am I mourning? And if I am, is there a right way to mourn? Just how do I mourn a place, a people, a home still breathing… but barely?”

I knew—besides my community, my staff, and support system—all that I had worked for was gone. My studio, my home, my artwork and collectibles from around the world, my little collection of antique cars, my jewelry, my master recordings, many unreleased songs and records, videos, papers and documents detailing my journey in music, my pianos, organs, etc.

With this bearing down on me, I knew I had to write—I had to write music. So, I put pen to paper and the first line came to me immediately.

“I see the people and the remnants of the past…” The lyrics poured out of me with accompanying tears, but also with a strange feeling of uncomfortable ease.

I vividly remember the conversations of that time with scattered family and community members. They were scared, furious, empty, and lost. Many felt abandoned, alone and unsupported. As I continued to write this song, my mind filled with more thoughts and more questions. I wanted answers, so I asked God, “Why do they seem so sad?” Now, years later, I can say aloud what I’d buried so deeply in my soul for the sake of my community’s hopefulness and optimism—I was mad. Mad at the world, and honestly, a bit disappointed in God.

Hurricane Katrina not only stole tangible things from me and my community, worse, it boldly stole trust. Leaders vowed, “We will build. We will rebuild better and stronger than ever before,” but in all actuality, we’d all heard that before. I continued to write. The line, “you promised it to me,” I composed specifically to, and for the leaders and politicians who were promising help. When I thought of the families crammed into the Superdome and others suffering in the smoldering heat whilst stuck on rooftops of their homes for days—the promises from our leadership, from the President of The United States to the Governor and the Mayor of New Orleans, meant absolutely nothing. The vision of people trying to leave New Orleans by walking across the Greater New Orleans bridge only to be met by policemen with guns ordering them to turn around—how appalling and hateful.

But then suddenly I thought, “what do we have when all else fails?” Faith. So was birthed the line, “I walk on water by faith in God.” My belief in faith and the act of faith helps us to defy. I imagined dry land where others only saw water.

The Walls…

Well, for those trapped in the attics of their homes, the walls were real. Very real. It also represented the walls our many politicians and leaders hid behind as they had forgotten our names and the value of every life now in harm. They also represented the walls my people—the people of New Orleans—had to build around their hearts in order to survive.

I moved forward writing. “No longer hide behind the face,” stands for the day we’d eventually find the courage to stop apologizing to the world for our grief, our anger, and our rage—the day we’d gift ourselves and the world grace, and let grace be enough.

Today, 20 years later, I still ache. I still feel the pain of my people. I still feel the anger of my people. Yes, I am still angry at times for the loss of my life prior to Katrina. A life made possible through years of hard work during my childhood and young adulthood— a life even to this day, unless they were there to experience, many of my friends and even family to this day have continuously discounted. Many of them have never asked nor cared to investigate my own losses, or worse, not even cared to ask about our still existing feelings of pain and suffering. They’ve only showed concern in ways that they themselves deemed important discounting the actual roots of our feelings.

Today, I still come to New Orleans having to book hotel rooms. Just that alone is an actual silent killer. It’s unhealthy mentally. It eats at my inner soul and cradles itself in depression and sadness. It is not easy coming home to a place where you were born, you are well known, somewhat famous, and feeling like you have nowhere to lay your head comfortably. It is not a good feeling having to budget your days and nights by living in hotel rooms at many times while coming to raise funds for various local organizations and support various community efforts. Many times over the years, I’ve slept in hotels for months at a time while in New Orleans for various charity events.

But no matter, I knew this experience would be a part of my journey, but I certainly didn’t expect for it to linger for so long. It is still a crushing experience at times.  Regardless, my life is not my own, I’ve always known this, understood it, and I’ve always accepted it as gracefully as I could—no matter my personal feelings of displacement, abandonment and sadness at times.

I digress…

As I pursued the task of composing, “but I still linger here / within these walls I’m with you dear,” was written solely for my community. To remind them that even when I’m gone, my heart will remain here, in New Orleans… always.

So be it. If and when you sing or hear this song perhaps you should give a moment to the lyrics—lyrics such as this line, “now I look beyond the walls.” I employ you to see what I see. Admittedly, it’s not easy, and won’t be, but try. I see not ruins and dilapidation, but reconstruction and preservation. Not death, but a people gilded with a love so strong and so stubborn, that the love somehow continuously finds a way to bloom out of the concrete and brick walls. A love so strong it blossoms from deep underwater higher than the leveled currents of the Mississippi.

This composition, “The Walls of New Orleans”, is my offering to you. May it serve as your survival hymn. Every note is a tear shed, but also a raised fist and a hand reaching back to pull someone else up and carry them beyond the walls.

I intentionally held the release of this song, “The Walls of New Orleans” for this very time 20 years after Hurricane Katrina, and now I am gifting it to you just as I planned—on my terms and conditions, and at the exact time God directed me to let it go and give it to you.

Listen, remember, it’s impossible to bury us, so be grateful and stay vigorous in your faith.

You’ll never drown a city that has learned to breathe underwater, and New Orleans is that very city.

Godspeed to everyone.

Blessings,

Davell Crawford