Photo courtesy of The Associated Press (AP)We found our thrill
Fats Domino wooed a crowd for the first time in three years at Tipitina's last Saturday
My knees went all weak and wobbly when I saw Fats nonchalantly saunter onstage. Tears welled up in Haz’s eyes, and then mine. This was not something we were supposed to experience, and yet here we were, in the presence of one of the greatest musicians of all time, a man born in former slave quarters on Laura Plantation in 1928, a man second only to Elvis Presley in numbers of albums sold in the 1950s and early 1960s. A man whose songs we both grew up singing and hearing, whose songs our parents and their parents know; songs that have been covered by hundreds of bands around the world. Though he looked so real, so with us, and so happy on that stage, I couldn’t help feeling like I was watching a 1960s broadcast or a movie made about the real thing.
Fats did not address the sold-out crowd of hundreds directly, but he did start playing the piano and singing “I’m walkin’” immediately. His face, consumed by an enormous grin and large, luminous eyes, turned towards the crowd and melted into the mike. His voice sounded as fresh as when he first recorded the song, more than fifty years ago, and he did not miss a beat. He was joined by his longtime musical partner Herbert Hardesty, who held a tenor sax in one hand and a trumpet in the other for much of the performance, a man Fats has worked with since the mid 1940s.
Fats sang his famous hits, “Blueberry Hill,” “My Girl Josephine,” “Blue Monday,” “Jambalaya,” “Ain’t that a Shame,” “Shake, Rattle, and Roll,” “Whole Lotta Lovin’,” “Valley of Tears,” and “So Long” one after another for half an hour, with one brief interruption. After just three songs, Fats stood up suddenly, turned his back to the crowd, and started to walk away; brother-in-law and keyboardist Reggie Hall and Tiptina’s Foundation Executive Director Bill Taylor hugged him and coaxed him back out onto his piano bench. It is unclear as to whether Fats suddenly got scared, tired, or confused or all three— nonetheless he looked completely unphased as he started to sing “Blue Monday.”
Maybe singing and playing music is dreaming for Fats. Maybe he suddenly woke up after three songs, suddenly consumed by stage fright, possibly reminded of the city he grew up in and no longer knows.
Fats and his family were rumored dead in the days immediately following Hurricane Katrina. They had stayed behind in Fats’ Lower Ninth Ward home, where flood waters surged up to the roof. No one heard from the family until they were rescued by boat.
Fats proved rumors false again on Saturday. Many, including organizers of Tipitina’s and members of the band, had no idea whether or not Fats would actually perform his much anticipated concert. At age 79, Fats’ health isn’t what it used to be, and he frequently suffers from a lifelong case of stage fright.
Proceeds from the night’s concert, and from merchandise sold, including limited edition posters and post-Katrina Fats Domino CDs, will benefit public school music programs in the city and the rebuilding of Fats Domino’s house in his Lower Ninth ward neighborhood. Fats’ treasured pink Cadillac sofa, made out of the car’s bumper, sat onstage during his performance, evidence of the recovery that is happening.
* * *
Fats’ last song was “So Long,” a song he changed the lyrics for at the end. “So long,” he sang, his face and grin turned towards us, “I’m tired, I’m going home.” With that, he stood up, without a bow or any acknowledgment of any kind, and humbly left the stage. Taylor put Fats’ characteristic captain’s hat on the legend’s head. A State Senator presented Fats with a plaque and Taylor declared that May 19 would from now on be known as “Fats Domino day” in New Orleans.
And now that Fats has finally performed, probably for the last time ever, the city has nothing left to do but follow in his footsteps, cast all past hesitations aside, and fully recover.
My knees went all weak and wobbly when I saw Fats nonchalantly saunter onstage. Tears welled up in Haz’s eyes, and then mine. This was not something we were supposed to experience, and yet here we were, in the presence of one of the greatest musicians of all time, a man born in former slave quarters on Laura Plantation in 1928, a man second only to Elvis Presley in numbers of albums sold in the 1950s and early 1960s. A man whose songs we both grew up singing and hearing, whose songs our parents and their parents know; songs that have been covered by hundreds of bands around the world. Though he looked so real, so with us, and so happy on that stage, I couldn’t help feeling like I was watching a 1960s broadcast or a movie made about the real thing.
Fats did not address the sold-out crowd of hundreds directly, but he did start playing the piano and singing “I’m walkin’” immediately. His face, consumed by an enormous grin and large, luminous eyes, turned towards the crowd and melted into the mike. His voice sounded as fresh as when he first recorded the song, more than fifty years ago, and he did not miss a beat. He was joined by his longtime musical partner Herbert Hardesty, who held a tenor sax in one hand and a trumpet in the other for much of the performance, a man Fats has worked with since the mid 1940s.
Fats sang his famous hits, “Blueberry Hill,” “My Girl Josephine,” “Blue Monday,” “Jambalaya,” “Ain’t that a Shame,” “Shake, Rattle, and Roll,” “Whole Lotta Lovin’,” “Valley of Tears,” and “So Long” one after another for half an hour, with one brief interruption. After just three songs, Fats stood up suddenly, turned his back to the crowd, and started to walk away; brother-in-law and keyboardist Reggie Hall and Tiptina’s Foundation Executive Director Bill Taylor hugged him and coaxed him back out onto his piano bench. It is unclear as to whether Fats suddenly got scared, tired, or confused or all three— nonetheless he looked completely unphased as he started to sing “Blue Monday.”
Maybe singing and playing music is dreaming for Fats. Maybe he suddenly woke up after three songs, suddenly consumed by stage fright, possibly reminded of the city he grew up in and no longer knows.
Fats and his family were rumored dead in the days immediately following Hurricane Katrina. They had stayed behind in Fats’ Lower Ninth Ward home, where flood waters surged up to the roof. No one heard from the family until they were rescued by boat.
Fats proved rumors false again on Saturday. Many, including organizers of Tipitina’s and members of the band, had no idea whether or not Fats would actually perform his much anticipated concert. At age 79, Fats’ health isn’t what it used to be, and he frequently suffers from a lifelong case of stage fright.
Proceeds from the night’s concert, and from merchandise sold, including limited edition posters and post-Katrina Fats Domino CDs, will benefit public school music programs in the city and the rebuilding of Fats Domino’s house in his Lower Ninth ward neighborhood. Fats’ treasured pink Cadillac sofa, made out of the car’s bumper, sat onstage during his performance, evidence of the recovery that is happening.
* * *
Fats’ last song was “So Long,” a song he changed the lyrics for at the end. “So long,” he sang, his face and grin turned towards us, “I’m tired, I’m going home.” With that, he stood up, without a bow or any acknowledgment of any kind, and humbly left the stage. Taylor put Fats’ characteristic captain’s hat on the legend’s head. A State Senator presented Fats with a plaque and Taylor declared that May 19 would from now on be known as “Fats Domino day” in New Orleans.
And now that Fats has finally performed, probably for the last time ever, the city has nothing left to do but follow in his footsteps, cast all past hesitations aside, and fully recover.
2 comments:
Hi Britt, this is Can
You had tears welling up in my eyes too! Wish I was there!. Miss you and Haz like crazy!
Hey Brittygirl, nice work you've done here. I'm gonna enjoy checking this out!
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