New Orleans isn't just a setting in Disney's 2009 return to hand-drawn animation. It’s the heartbeat. Honestly, if you strip away the jazz, the zydeco, and that specific brassy crunch of a Marching Band, The Princess and the Frog becomes a completely different movie. It might even be a boring one. Most Disney movies use music to tell you how a character feels, but The Princess and the Frog songs do something trickier: they tell you exactly where you are standing on a map.
Randy Newman was the only choice for this. Seriously. People forget that before he was the "You've Got a Friend in Me" guy, Newman was a student of the American South. He grew up spending summers in New Orleans, and you can hear that authentic, slightly gritty humidity in every note of the score. It’s not the sanitized, "musical theater" sound of the 1990s Renaissance. It’s messy. It’s loud. It’s got dirt under its fingernails, much like Tiana herself.
The Work Ethic of "Almost There"
Most Disney "I Want" songs are about dreaming. Cinderella wants a ball. Ariel wants legs. Tiana? Tiana wants a commercial real estate lease.
"Almost There" is probably the most relatable song in the entire Disney canon for anyone who has ever worked a double shift. It’s a jump-blues masterpiece. While the visuals shift into that gorgeous Art Deco style inspired by Aaron Douglas, the music stays grounded in a driving beat. It’s relentless. That’s the point. Newman uses a walking bassline that mimics Tiana’s literal hustle.
There's a subtle complexity here that people miss. Tiana isn't singing to a star; she’s singing to her sore feet. Anika Noni Rose brings this incredible clarity to the vocals—she doesn't over-riff. She keeps it clean, professional, and determined. It’s the anthem of the "grind" culture before that term became an annoying buzzword.
Digging a Little Deeper into Dr. Facilier
We have to talk about Keith David. His voice is like velvet dipped in gravel. "Friends on the Other Side" is arguably the best villain song since "Be Prepared," but for totally different reasons. It’s a theatrical jazz number that feels dangerous.
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The song starts with a deceptively simple piano riff. It feels like a street corner hustle. As the Shadow Man begins his "reading," the orchestration swells with creepy, chromatic woodwinds. Notice the percussion. It’s not a standard drum kit; it’s cluttered and atmospheric. By the time the chorus hits, it’s a full-blown explosion of brass and chanting.
Newman leans into the "Voodoo" aesthetic without making it a caricature. He uses a minor key that shifts into a celebratory, almost gospel-like fervor during the finale. It’s the musical equivalent of a bait-and-switch. You’re having so much fun that you don't realize you just sold your soul. That’s the brilliance of the songwriting—it seduces the audience just as much as it seduces Naveen and Lawrence.
The Zydeco Soul of "Gonna Take You There"
When the story moves into the bayou, the genre shifts. This is where Newman shows off. He brings in Terrace Simien on the accordion for "Gonna Take You There." Zydeco is a specific blend of Louisiana French accordion music and Afro-Caribbean rhythms. It’s fast. It’s meant for dancing in the dirt. Ray, the firefly, is the vessel for this, and Jim Cummings voices him with a perfect, raspy Cajun charm.
The song is short. Barely two minutes. But it does more world-building in those 120 seconds than most movies do in an hour. You can practically smell the swamp water. It’s rhythmic, repetitive, and infectious. It feels communal. Unlike the solo-heavy songs in the city, the bayou music feels like a party everyone is invited to.
"Dig a Little Deeper" and the Gospel Influence
Jenifer Lewis is a national treasure. As Mama Odie, she delivers "Dig a Little Deeper," which is pure, high-octane gospel.
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This song serves a narrative purpose that often gets overlooked. It’s the counterpoint to "Almost There." While Tiana is focused on the "what" (the restaurant), Mama Odie is pushing for the "who" (the soul). The song features a massive choir, handclaps, and a Hammond B3 organ sound that grounds it in the Black church tradition.
The tempo is blistering. If you listen closely to the lyrics, Newman is doing some sophisticated internal rhyming. "Don't matter what you look like / Don't matter what you wear / How many rings you got on your fingers / We don't care." It’s simple, but the delivery is a freight train of charisma. It forces Tiana—and the viewer—to stop overthinking and just feel.
Why "Never Knew I Needed" Feels Out of Place (But Works)
Ne-Yo’s end-credits track, "Never Knew I Needed," is the only "pop" song on the soundtrack. In 2009, this was a strategic move to get radio play. It’s a mid-tempo R&B ballad that, on the surface, feels disconnected from the 1920s jazz of the rest of the film.
However, the lyrics tie back to the central theme: the difference between "want" and "need." Naveen wanted fun; Tiana wanted a career. Both needed each other. The song’s inclusion reflects Disney's transition period. They were trying to bridge the gap between their traditional Broadway-style roots and the contemporary music scene. It’s a time capsule of late-2000s R&B production—clean synths, layered harmonies, and a steady, unobtrusive beat.
The Technical Mastery of the Score
Beyond the lyrical tracks, the instrumental score is a masterclass in leitmotif. Newman gives Tiana a "dream" theme that evolves. At the start, it’s played on a lonely trumpet. By the end, it’s a full orchestral swell.
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He also uses the "Blueberry Hill" style of piano playing—that rolling, triplet-heavy New Orleans style popularized by Fats Domino. It’s everywhere. It’s in the background of the dinner scenes and the transitions between the swamp and the city.
The Princess and the Frog songs succeed because they aren't trying to be "timeless" in a generic way. They are rooted in a very specific time and a very specific place. By being specific, they become universal.
Practical Ways to Appreciate the Music Today
If you really want to get into the weeds with this soundtrack, don't just loop it on Spotify. Try these specific deep-dive steps to see how the music was actually constructed:
- Listen to the "Down in New Orleans" (Prologue) vs. the (Finale): The prologue is sung by Dr. John—a legend of New Orleans music. His voice is swampy and thick. The finale version is much more polished and "Disney." Comparing the two shows the journey from the reality of the city to the fairytale ending.
- Isolate the brass section: In songs like "Friends on the Other Side," listen specifically to the trombones. They aren't playing pretty melodies; they are growling. This "tailgate" style of trombone playing is a hallmark of New Orleans jazz.
- Watch the animation of "Almost There" without the sound: Then watch it with the sound. Notice how the rhythm of the music dictates the sharp, angular movements of the characters in that sequence. The music was written first, and the animation was timed to the frame to match Newman's syncopations.
- Explore the artists behind the voices: Research Dr. John, Terence Blanchard (who played Louis the alligator’s trumpet parts), and Terrace Simien. These aren't just session musicians; they are the actual architects of the modern Louisiana sound.
The legacy of these songs isn't just that they are catchy. It's that they preserved a very specific pocket of American culture within the walls of a corporate giant like Disney. They didn't "Disney-fy" jazz; they let jazz take over Disney for a few hours. That’s why, over fifteen years later, the soundtrack doesn't feel dated. It just feels like New Orleans.
To experience the full weight of the composition, listen to the soundtrack in a high-fidelity format rather than standard streaming compression. Focus on the separation between the brass and the percussion in "Friends on the Other Side" to hear the subtle rhythmic layers that Randy Newman buried in the mix. This reveals the true complexity of the New Orleans "Second Line" influence that defines the film's sonic identity.