Three consciences of New Orleans: Kanye West, Lil' Wayne and Wendell Pierce

"Some Hope and Some Despair" was the title of a fanzine produced by the late Austin musician Lance Hahn. A good punk music and culture 'zine, its title reflected its world view.

That's not a bad summary of much of the popular art about Hurricane Katrina and its aftermath: There's a little hope and a lot of despair.

An Austin production of "Porgy and Bess" referenced Katrina-ravaged New Orleans. Josh Neufeld's graphic novel "A.D.: New Orleans After the Deluge" is top-flight comics reportage, while the recently published "Dark Rain: A New Orleans Story," by writer Mat Johnson and illustrator Simone Gane, is a noir involving a thinly disguised private security firm that of course bears no resemblance to Blackwater.

The nonprofit activist group Air Traffic Control and the Future of Music Coalition have produced "Dear New Orleans," a digital benefit compilation for the people of the Gulf. It includes such artists as My Morning Jacket, Indigo Girls, and the Wrens.

But over the past five years, three entertainers have embodied what we think about when we think about the destruction of the levees and the aftermath. They expressed what many were feeling watching footage of people trapped in the New Orleans Superdome - the babies without diapers, the elderly without water. It looked as if an entire population was being written off.

Two are global music superstars who aren't from New Orleans, one is an actor who is. One was the first to speak his mind on national TV. One rapped about it over and over. One told his family's story, then returned to the city to create fiction that might resemble real life.

As time moves on, it is hoped, those hope and despair ratios will switch.

First, Kanye

Katrina hit on Aug. 29, 2005. Within hours, images of the devastation were seen around the world.

On Sept. 2, NBC Universal broadcast the Concert for Hurricane Relief, a celebrity-packed benefit concert. Participants included Faith Hill, Tim McGraw and organizer Harry Connick Jr. Hosts included Hilary Swank, Richard Gere, Lindsay Lohan and Glenn Close.

But the only thing anyone remembers is Kayne West, though they don't remember the first half of his speech, which was very much not on the teleprompter. Here's some of it:

"I hate the way they portray us in the media. You see a black family, it says, `They're looting.' You see a white family, it says, `They're looking for food' … So anybody out there that wants to do anything that we can help - with the way America is set up to help the poor, the black people, the less well-off, as slow as possible. I mean, the Red Cross is doing everything they can. We already realize a lot of people that could help are at war right now, fighting another way - and they've given them permission to go down and shoot us!"

No, what they remember is him standing next to Mike Myers, who was looking a little scared, like he expected the crack of a sniper any second. Myers read something scripted, then West, as if to sum up what he just said, blurted, "George Bush doesn't care about black people."

The comment resonated as widely as anything he ever rapped, produced or Tweeted.

Tha Carter

With its ability to turn on a dime, hip-hop moved first.

West's comment inspired "George Bush Don't Like Black People" by Houston's the Legendary K.O., perhaps the first post-Katrina protest song.

It fused the melody of West's "Golddigger" with lines such as "Hurricane came through, (expletive) us up round here/ Government acting like it's bad luck down here" and "People lives on the line, you declining to help/ Since you taking so much time we surviving ourselves."

Some singers turned to the past. Many, including Marcia Ball, covered Randy Newman's downright visionary "Louisiana 1927," often morphing the lyrics to suit the storm.

Some songs were a little more obtuse. Jimmy Buffett's "Breathe In, Breathe Out, Move On" urged calm: "If a hurricane doesn't leave you dead/ It will make you strong/ Don't try to explain it, just nod your head/ Breathe in, breathe out, move on." (No, thanks, Jimmy.)