You know that feeling when you watch something so good it actually makes you feel a little bit annoyed at everything else? That’s the Tank and the Bangas Tiny Desk Concert for me. It’s been years since they took over Bob Boilen’s workspace at NPR, but honestly, nobody has touched that energy since. People still argue about the best Tiny Desk ever—T-Pain’s stripped-back set, Mac Miller’s heart-wrenching performance, or maybe Anderson .Paak—but the 2017 winners from New Orleans didn't just play a set. They staged a whole theatrical production in a space roughly the size of a walk-in closet.
It changed the game.
Before Tarriona "Tank" Ball and her crew showed up, the "Tiny Desk Contest" was this cool, indie thing where singer-songwriters played acoustic guitars. Then this group from New Orleans arrived with a flute, a synth, two powerhouse backup singers, and a lead vocalist who could go from a Disney princess whisper to a gravelly rap verse in three seconds flat. It wasn't just music; it was a vibe shift.
The Performance That Broke the Internet (And My Brain)
When you hit play on that video, you aren't ready for "Boxed Wine." You think you are. You see the bright colors, the hair, the smiles. But then the music starts. The rhythmic complexity of the Bangas—led by Albert Allenback on alto sax and flute and Joshua Johnson on drums—is basically a masterclass in New Orleans "second line" tradition meeting modern jazz-fusion.
Most bands try to shrink themselves to fit the desk. Tank and the Bangas did the opposite. They expanded.
The dynamics are what really get you. One second, it's dead silent, and Tank is doing spoken word poetry that feels like she’s reading your diary. The next, the entire room is exploding. You can see the NPR employees in the background. Usually, they look pretty stoic, maybe a little bob of the head. In this one? They look genuinely startled. In a good way. Like they just realized they’re witnessing a historical moment in a cubicle.
Why "Wallets" is the Real MVP of the Set
Everybody talks about "Rollercoasters" because it’s emotional and beautiful, and yeah, it’ll make you cry if you’ve had a rough week. But "Wallets"? That’s the song that shows who they really are. It’s chaotic. It’s funky. It’s about losing your stuff and being stressed out, which is basically the most relatable human experience ever.
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What’s wild is the synchronization. Merell Burkett on keyboards and Norman Spence on bass create this foundation that shouldn't work with Tank’s improvisational style, yet it’s tighter than a drum. If you watch closely at the 6-minute mark, you see the chemistry. It isn't rehearsed to the point of being stiff. It’s alive. They are reacting to each other in real-time. That’s New Orleans for you. You can’t fake that kind of musical telepathy.
The "Contest Winner" Stigma and How They Smashed It
Winning a contest can sometimes be a curse. You’re "that band that won that thing." But the Tank and the Bangas Tiny Desk Concert served as a massive slingshot rather than a cage. They were the unanimous choice among the judges in 2017. Trey Anastasio of Phish, who was a judge that year, basically said they were in a league of their own.
They weren't just the best "unsigned" band. They were one of the best bands, period.
I think a lot of people go back to this specific video because it represents a pre-algorithm era of discovery. It felt organic. There’s no heavy autotune, no massive light show, just raw talent and a lot of sweat. In a world where everything feels over-produced and polished to a dull shine, seeing Tank’s facial expressions—which are a whole performance on their own—is refreshing. She doesn't care about looking "cool." She cares about the story.
The Impact on New Orleans' Modern Scene
You can't talk about this concert without talking about the city. New Orleans music is often pigeonholed into "traditional jazz" or "bounce." Tank and the Bangas proved there’s a middle ground that is weird, soulful, and incredibly technical. They opened the door for other acts like Moonchild or even the later success of Jon Batiste to be viewed through a more mainstream, yet appreciative, lens.
Common Misconceptions About the Set
I've seen people comment that the performance is "too much" or "over-the-top." Honestly? That's the point.
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If you think it's too much, you’re probably missing the theatrical roots of black gospel and New Orleans street performing. It’s supposed to be maximalist. It’s a protest against being small. Tank is using her voice as an instrument—sometimes it’s a percussion piece, sometimes it’s a flute, sometimes it’s a chainsaw.
- Fact Check: They didn't just show up and win. They had been grinding for years in the New Orleans circuit, playing at venues like Tipitina's and the Maison.
- The Gear: People often ask about the setup. It’s surprisingly simple. The magic isn't in the pedals or the mics; it's in the vocal arrangements between Tank, Anjelika "Jelly" Joseph, and Khalila Mayfield.
How to Actually Experience This Set Today
If you’re just watching it on your phone speakers, you’re doing it wrong. You need headphones to hear the bass lines. Norman Spence is doing work back there that gets lost on a tiny iPhone speaker.
The Tank and the Bangas Tiny Desk Concert is a masterclass in stage presence. If you’re a performer, watch how Tank uses her eyes. She connects with the people in the room. Even though she knows there’s a camera there, she’s performing for the human beings three feet away from her. That’s the secret sauce.
Actionable Insights for Music Lovers and Creators
If you want to get the most out of this iconic performance or apply its lessons to your own creative life, keep these things in mind:
Study the Dynamics.
The reason the loud parts feel so big is because the quiet parts are so small. Most modern songs stay at a "level 10" the whole time. Tank and the Bangas play with the volume knob of the human soul. Learn to lean into the silence.
Don't Fear the "Weird."
Tank makes strange noises. She makes funny faces. She tells stories that don't always have a linear punchline. And that’s exactly why people love it. Authenticity isn't about being perfect; it's about being specific.
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Watch the Backup Singers.
Seriously. Anjelika and Khalila aren't just "background." They are the engine. Their ability to match Tank’s erratic (in a good way) vocal shifts is what keeps the whole thing from falling off the rails. It’s a lesson in supporting your lead while bringing your own fire.
Go Beyond the Desk.
After you watch the NPR set, go find their live performance at the Apollo or their Coachella sets. You'll see how that "Tiny Desk" energy scales up to a massive stage. It proves that the intimacy of the desk wasn't a fluke—it’s just who they are.
The best way to honor what they did behind that desk is to support live music that takes risks. Don't just settle for the stuff the Spotify algorithm feeds you. Seek out the bands that are doing something different, something that makes the "important people" in the office stop what they’re doing and just stare in awe.
Go back and watch the "Rollercoasters" finale one more time. Pay attention to the very end when the room goes quiet. That's not just a performance ending; that's a band realizing their lives just changed forever.
To dig deeper into the New Orleans sound that birthed this performance, start exploring the "Black American Music" (BAM) movement. Check out artists like Christian Scott aTunde Adjuah or Chief Adjuah, who push the boundaries of jazz in the same way the Bangas push R&B. Or, better yet, book a flight to New Orleans and go to Frenchmen Street on a Tuesday night. You'll find that the "magic" in the Tiny Desk video isn't a one-off—it's a living, breathing culture that continues to evolve long after the cameras stop rolling.