Rock & Roll

Fats Domino

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Fats Domino came out of New Orleans in the 50's with a rockin' piano to become one of Rock'n'Roll's earliest and best stars. He was born Antoine Domino in 1928 in New Orleans. As a child he played piano and sang, and the first language he learned to speak was French. He first performed in public at age 10. He continued with music into the 40's and was heard by Dave Bartholomew, who would become his writing partner on many of Fats' hit songs. Fats joined the Dave Bartholomew Band in the mid-40's. He was influenced by Albert Ammons and Fats Waller, among others.

He signed a contract with Imperial in 1949 and at his first recording session he made sure that he recorded the traditional Hey La Bas. "La Bas" was originally a voodoo god of luck, was identified with St. Peter in French-Catholic Louisiana and finally became La Bas. The record indicated a coming together of many years of New Orleans history and musical influence. It was not, however, his first record to be released. A song about drugs called The Fat Man was cleaned up a bit for his first commercial release, and it reached the R&B chart in 1950. Acccording to some reports, the song was a million seller. The Fat Man also became a nickname for Fats Domino. Another song that made the R&B chart for him, Every Night About This Time, used a piano triplet for which Fats was to become famous. It showed how his music had been influenced by that of Little Willie Littlefield. Fats had another R&B hit with Goin' Home in 1952.

Fats Domino exploded onto the rock-and-roll scene in 1955 when his song, Ain't That A Shame, was covered by white recording artist Pat Boone. Boone's version went to number one, and Domino's version on Imperial went to number ten. The song established both artists as stars. Fats could be heard in the background on the records of other artists, such as Joe Turner and Lloyd Price. He continued to write songs with Dave Bartholomew, many of which became hits. In 1956 he put five songs in the top forty, including I'm In Love Again and Fats' rendition of a song that had reached number one for Glenn Miller in 1940, Blueberry Hill. The latter went to number two and was Domino's highest charting record ever.

Fats Domino was very popular. In 1957 he appeared in a movie that many consider to be the best Rock'n'Roll film ever made, The Girl Can't Help It, singing his hit Blue Monday. Another Fats Domino hit, I'm Walkin', was covered by Ricky Nelson in 1957 and helped to launch the teenage singing sensation's career. Other top ten songs followed in the late 50's for Domino: Whole Lotta Loving, I Want To Walk You Home, and Be My Guest. The last song had a curious origin -- a teenager had been told by his father to get a job or get out of the house, so he wrote Be My Guest and waited in line for a chance to pass it on to Fats Domino. He was able to do so, and heard from Domino's agent some time later; thus was begun the songwriting career of Tommy Boyce.

Fats has a smoky voice with a bit of a New Orleans-style accent, and he is very likeable. Fats made music that was fun to listen to, and in addition to his pounding piano you could hear a sax riff, or maybe a great tenor solo from Herb Hardesty or Lee Allen. Fats' piano style is described as rolling boogie-woogie, with lots of triplets. This was party music. There was always a heavy backbeat and his band rocked hard, but made things look easy. Fun, fun, fun.

Fats Domino had his final top ten song in 1960 with Walking To New Orleans. He recorded some old Hank Williams songs such as Jambalaya (On The Bayou) and You Win Again and he did old standards such as Red Sails In The Sunset, which was his final top forty song, in 1963. In 1968, he even did a cover of the Beatles' Lady Madonna.

He also made some more films along the way, including Shake, Rattle and Roll, The Big Beat, and Jamboree. Fats played Las Vegas frequently, and at the Royal Festival Hall in London in the 80's. He had to leave a tour of Great Britain in the 90's due to health problems.

Fats Domino still lives in New Orleans with his wife Rosemary, with whom he has had eight children. His awards have been many, including Grammy's Lifetime Achievement and Hall Of Fame Awards.

In 1986, Fats Domino took his place in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

by Tom Simon

Jill and The Jagdads

Jill and The Jagdads started out as an idea to put together a rock and roll band for the Parents Club over at St. Francis Xavier in Metairie where all of our kids attended school. We started out playing school functions for SFX but since we all had the bug to play in different arenas we quickly started playing out in NOLA. We had mostly been playing for the last couple of years since Katrina benefits in the New Orleans area to help the recovery or for other reasons.

We play traditional classic rock, blues, and some new rock mixed in. Our main audience is the fair/festival crowd but also love the intimacy of the club. While playing the clubs and fairs are fun, BenefitTes are something that really compels us and we love helping out raising money for causes in the recovery of our great city.

The band consists of Jill Adoue on Keys and Piano, Rob Albano on Bass and Vocals, Randy Anderson on Guitar and Vocals, Perry Pace on the Drum, and Chris "Ole Sarge" Perkins on Guitar, Vocals, and the Cosmic Groove...

For any booking, please call Chris Perkins at 504-201-6939.

Marcia Ball

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Marcia Ball honed her powerful singing and deft, rollicking keyboard chops while growing up in the small town of Vinton, Louisiana, on the Texas border. This musical and cultural frontier has produced such other roots-music greats as Gatemouth Brown, George Jones, Janis Joplin, Clarence Garlow, Cleveland Crochet, Clifton Chenier, Joe Bonsall and Johnny and Edgar Winter. It was and still is a hotbed of country, blues, gospel, Cajun, zydeco, rockabilly and Gulf Coast “swamp pop”, and young Marcia absorbed it all, even as she was receiving her formal piano training.

After attending Louisiana State University in Baton Rouge, Marcia hit Austin in the early 1970's, just as the Texas capital’s progressive country movement was growing. Ball was an important and popular figure on the Austin scene, first as the leader of the beloved Freda & the Firedogs, and then as a solo artist signed to Capitol Records. Her recorded debut was Circuit Queen, which appeared in 1978, and while artistically successful in the progressive country vein (and still sounding good today), the album quickly sank amid record company politics.

By the early ‘80s Ball was focusing on Gulf Coast rhythm & blues, and she’s never looked back. In addition to her critically acclaimed Rounder albums (Soulful Dress, Hot Tamale Baby, Gatorhythms, Blue House, and Let Me Play with Your Poodle), Marcia also found time to collaborate with Angela Strehli and Lou Ann Barton on a well-received album for the Antone’s label called Dreams Come True.

At the end of 1997, Marcia finished work on a similar “three divas of the blues” project for Rounder, this time in the distinguished company of Irma Thomas and Tracy Nelson. The album, Sing It! was released in January 1998 and was nominated for both a Grammy and Handy as “Best Contemporary Blues Album”. Ball also appears as a featured singer with Cajun country legends the Hackberry Ramblers on their recent Deep Water album (on the Hot Biscuits label), where she makes her recording debut singing in Cajun French (“Les Blues de Bosco”).

Professor Longhair

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A number of Eastern religions believe in the magical life-shaping qualities of sound. In the West, we tend to scoff at such notions, preferring to build our culture on more tangible foundations. But there is one Western sound that has had an unparalleled revolutionary effect on our life and culture. That sound is Rock and Roll. In every home in our country, and in millions of others around the globe, we are on first name terms with the icons who we believe conceived and created this sound Elvis, Fats, Little Richard, Jerry Lee, John and Paul. But, besides being the fathers of our musical-cultural revolution, Presley, Domino, Penniman, Lewis and Beatles Lennon & McCartney have one other quality in common: they were all inspired by, influenced by, or in some cases plain stole, the music of a tall, skinny New Orleans piano player by the name of Professor Longhair.

I have made this bold assertion often enough to be well aware that it is initially regarded as somewhere between wild fantasy and, at best, excessive exaggeration. "Yeah?” comes the normal skeptical response, "If Professor Longhair is such an important force in the birth of rock'n'roll why isn't he famous?” Or, "Why have I never heard of him?” The answer is one of the most fascinating, tragic and ultimately inspiring stories in modern America.

Professor Longhair started life on December 19th, 1918 as Henry Roeland Byrd, the only son of Ella Mae and James Byrd of Bogalusa Louisiana. Henry's grandparents, Americus and Amanda Byrd, had come to Bogalusa escaping a legacy of slavery in Mississippi, but by the time Henry was born the South's undying racial tensions and growing lawlessness forced his parents out of town. James moved to Ponchatoula and Ella Mae took Henry to New Orleans where her younger brother, William, lived. William employed Ella Mae's musical skills as a piano player, putting her in a jazz combo in his West-Bank sideshow in Algiers.

Young Henry's early musical education came from his mother but he was initially drawn to the lower, street echelons of the entertainment industry. As a boy of 10, his first paying gig was for a snake oil salesman selling a cure-all called Hadacol. Hadacol could do anything. It could even "make an old man young again" as Henry was to write in his first recorded song Hadacol Bounce. But all Hadacol did for Henry, as a young boy was to earn him a few pennies through ritual racial humiliation. The snake oil salesman would attract attention to his pitch by calling on a plant in the audience (Henry) and ask him if he would like the pie the salesman was holding in his hand. When Henry replied, "yes,” the salesman would smash the pie in his face. After three years of this Henry moved on in showbiz, taking up tap dancing.

To this day, young black males tap dance on the streets of New Orleans' French Quarter for nickels and dimes - and in 1930 teenager Henry Byrd was one of them. He perfected a unique move in which he would run a few paces up a wall, turn and come back down, explaining his nickname at the time - "Whirlwind".

But Whirlwind soon discovered there was a better living to be made inside the clubs that lined the French Quarter than on their streets and decided to become a guitarist. But playing a cheap guitar with steel strings cut his fingers up to the point that it was too painful to enjoy and he moved on to drums and finally piano.

Still too young to be legally allowed in clubs, Henry started teaching himself piano on instruments which belonged to street players or had been discarded into back alleys, and working around the keys that still produced a sound, created for himself a percussive left hand and a rocking scatter-boogie right.

The sound attracted the attention of New Orleans' working piano players Champion Jack Dupree, Sullivan Rock and Tuts Washington. Dupree, who at the time was a comedian, gave Byrd piano lessons in return for Byrd giving him singing lessons. Rock painted a charcoal mustache on the kid to make him look old enough to get into his gigs and let him sit in on occasion. But it was Tuts Washington who Byrd admired most and Tuts took him under his wing, teaching him the elements of New Orleans piano onto which Byrd was to graft his many influences and against which he started singing.

At this beginning of his musical career Byrd's already singular style of playing and singing was unable to be categorized. He says, "When I started playing the music I was playing nobody knew what it was.” We now know it contained many of the elements of what came to be called, through various evolutions, rock'n'roll, R&B, funk and reggae. But it was at the time a revolutionary style unknown to anyone and even fellow musicians took time to understand what it was Byrd wanted when playing with him. "I had to train the fellows to do things I wanted them to do because it's hard to assemble (the sound) together."

As he assembled various combinations of musicians life got in the way. A stint in the army, in a Civilian Conservation Camp, a period as a cook in a red-beans-and-rice joint as part of a short-lived marriage and even a shot at a career as a boxer came and went; the latter ending after his first fight in which he got teeth knocked out and promptly quit.

By 1947 Byrd had decided to stick to music and called himself "Little Lovin' Henry,” a name which didn't encourage employment. "The mens didn't like their women being around no man with that name, see, and it wasn't no good to me."

With a band he called The Midriffs Byrd landed his first steady gig in 1949 at one of the most prestigious New Orleans black night spots, the Caledonia Inn, replacing Dave Bartholomew’s Swing Band. The owner of the Caledonia referred to Byrd as a "piano professor" and marrying it to his hairstyle of uncustomary long hair the persona of Professor Longhair was born under the renamed title of the band - Professor Longhair and his Four Hairs Combo. The other three hairs were Professors No Hair, Need some Hair and Ain't Got No Hair, the latter being sax player "Apeman" Black who shaved his head. 'Fess, as Professor Longhair came to be called, credits Apeman's shiny pate as the inspiration for his lyric to Baldhead ("Looky there/She ain't got no hair") which he recorded first in 1949 for the Star Talent label. The recording became mired in union disputes and he recorded it again in 1950 for Mercury. The Mercury recording of Baldhead was a hit, going all the way to number 5 on the Billboard R&B chart.

Today occupying that slot would ensure fame, a respectable amount of money and, with the right amount of luck and promotion, a career. But in 1950 America and the American music business was very different. America was markedly divided into black and white in every way, including music. White radio stations, which were by far the majority, simply did not play music by black artists. And white people, for the most part, simply did not listen to black radio.

To put the social and music milieu in stark perspective it was June 25th 1949, only months before Professor Longhair recorded the Mercury version of Baldhead, that Billboard re-named its weekly chart of "Race Music" with the euphemistic "R&B". Baldhead went on the R&B chart because it was recorded by a black man and therefore was only played on black radio. Some musically aware white people did listen to black radio, including a Crown Electric company truck driver from Tupelo Mississippi called Elvis Presley. Compare the "revolutionary" Elvis Presley Sun Sessions with Professor Longhair's recordings, made up to 5 years earlier, of Hadacol Bounce, Baldhead, East St. Louis Rag (which became Mardi Gras in New Orleans) and Baby Let Me Hold Your Hand and you will concur with Albert Goldman, Elvis's biographer, that "Professor Longhair gave Elvis Presley his blue suede shoes voice" and the arrangements gave producer Sam Phillips the sound. Professor Longhair's influence on other of his far better known colleagues can be heard in Her Mind is Gone, Hey Now baby, and Professor Longhair's Boogie, all recorded between 1949 and 1953. Little Richard recorded Tutti Frutti in New Orleans in 1955. Fats Domino, produced by Dave Bartholomew (whose band Fess originally replaced at the Caledonia), recorded Ain't That a Shame in New Orleans in 1955 and Jerry Lee Lewis recorded Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On and Great Balls of Fire in 1957.

Although few artists fared well at the hands of their record companies, Fess did worse than most. "I was putting all my time, as much as I possibly could, into music, but I wasn't getting paid...I talked to fellows who said my records were doing great but I still hadn't received any money...No matter how good you are you can't make a living.” So when the 60's rolled around and the British invasion took over American charts and bandstands Fess, with two sons Roeland Jr. and Alexander, was woefully unprepared for total musical unemployment.

Fess was forced to find an alternative source of income and used his mental agility and digital dexterity to excel at card playing. Staying away from what he called "chance games" and concentrating on "skill games" Pit-a-Pat and Coon Can, Professor Longhair the musical innovator became once again Henry Byrd, Card Hustler.

Along with the strain of poverty, his personal life and female entanglements became complicated. Roeland Jr. was shot to death on the street by "Sundown" Morton, the intermittent lover of the mother of his children Alice Walton, and his health started to fail. Apart from joining Earl King on his 1965 recording of New Orleans Mardi Gras classic Big Chief, Professor Longhair dropped out of sight and by 1970 was presumed to have either disappeared or died. This was the year that three New Orleanians in their late teens, Allison Miner, Parker Dinkins and Quint Davis, set out to find Fess to put him in their first New Orleans music festival.

They didn't find him in time for the first festival in Congo Square but in 1971 Davis tracked him down to the One Stop record store on Rampart Street where the now 52 year old Byrd swept the floor, packed goods and made deliveries as well as his limp and labored breathing would allow. Through depressing disillusionment and abject poverty, he hadn't touched a keyboard in years. He said "I got a piano sitting up in the corner that I can't even work because I can't (afford to) get it fixed". So Davis, Dinkins and Miner got it fixed for him, fixed his health and got him ready for the second New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival.

Professor Longhair's return to the stage was literally a show stopper. As he played, the entire festival audience, the food vendors and even the musicians playing on other stages stopped what they were doing and came over to listen. The festival came to a complete standstill and Professor Longhair began what was to become the most fertile, recognized and rewarding years of his career.

Davis formed a management company to which he signed Professor Longhair and with Dinkins set about correcting Byrd's finances. Although a real record deal still remained elusive a band was assembled and live dates followed, including a spot at the Montreux Jazz Festival in 1973.

As the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival grew into one of the most successful music festivals in the world, so did the strain on its organizers. Dinkins moved into a law and recording business, Miner fell out with Davis, moved to New York and while Davis concentrated on the festival and other music business interests leaving Fess without the attention he needed. On September 24th 1976 Fess severed his contract with Davis and again found himself in the musical wilderness with no record label, no manager and no steady gigs.

That all changed when Allison Miner returned to New Orleans married to saxophonist Andrew Kaslow. Kaslow became Byrd's musical arranger while Miner took over as manager and Professor Longhair's career finally began to hit its stride.

On January 14th, 1977, a defunct juice bar in Uptown New Orleans opened as a club that was to become the focal point of New Orleans music. Tipitina's, named after Fess's song, had Fess as a partner and gave him a regular place to play. Audiences started to grow and so, finally, did Longhair's reputation and standing in the music business. He received visitors Paul McCartney, Robbie Robertson, Robert Plant and many others.

In 1978 Professor Longhair set off on has first European tour and followed it in 1979 with his equally successful first national tour of the United States, a record deal with Alligator Records and the promise of a worldwide tour opening for The Clash.

At the age of 62, his first album, Crawfish Fiesta, was completed and shipped to stores for release on January 31st 1980. On January 30th, the eve of the record's release, Professor Longhair died peacefully in his sleep.

Accolades followed his death including a 1987 Grammy for his early Atlantic recordings released as House Party New Orleans Style and his 1992 induction into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame.

Written by: Grant Morris

Subdudes

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Over the course of 20 years and eight albums, the subdudes have quietly become one of America's national music treasures. The New Orleans-formed group is a living encapsulation of American music, a vibrant cauldron of sounds that stirs together meaty grooves and jazzy dynamics, souful R&B swagger, easy vocal harmonies, cheeky rock 'n' roll attitude and folky social consciousness -- not to mention some of the sharpest musicianship and ensemble playing you'll ever hear from any five musicians. It's tight enough to be loose, but never gratuitously sloppy.

Those virtues have seldom been displayed better than on STREET SYMPHONY, the subdudes' third album since regrouping in 2002 after a five-year hiatus. Richly crafted and fiercely executed, it's the document of a veteran band that's still learning, growing and getting better at what it does.

"Basically what we wanted was to go in and capture the live vibe of this band," explains Tommy Malone (vocals, guitar), who co-founded the subdudes in 1987 with former Continental Drifter John Magnie (vocals, keyboards) and Steve Amedee (vocals, percussion). Tim Cook (vocals, bass, percussion) and Jimmy Messa (bass, guitar) arrived in subsequent years. "We often hear people say they love to come see us, but the records are just not what we are. They're not what we sound like. This time we wanted to get that vibe on tape, and I think we did."

Working with producer George Massenberg last March in Nashville, the band took a batch of songs they'd written in previous months and delivered vibrant performances on each. The group members arranged themselves in a circle, facing each other and feeding off that energy and communication as they played. "There was no glass, no separation," Malone recalls. "The machine never stopped. It was just a great way to record."

STREET SYMPHONY maintains the joyous, life-affirming vibe that's part and parcel of the subdudes' music as the group muses about the mythical (but certainly desired) "Fountain of Youth," channels a bit of street corner soul into "Work Clothes" and finds redemptive love in the gorgeous "Absolutely," that both belies and complements the more serious outlook on several of the 12 songs here. This is, after all, the subdudes' first set of new material post-Katrina and the devastation it caused to the band's home town in 2005, and it would seem unnatural if it didn't impact on the music.

The first single, "Poor Man's Paradise" is a stark look at New Orleans in the wake of that natural disaster. "Thorn in Her Side" employs the Statue of Liberty as a well-pointed metaphor about the current state of affairs in the United States. "Brother Man" calls for a bridge between the divides of race and religion. "I'm Your Town" asks "who's gonna save me?"

"We are a fairly political bunch," acknowledges Magnie. "We're a bunch of peaceniks. We don't like to get too specific with those political things, but of course we're basically a bunch of bleeding heart liberals." Malone agrees that topical songs are "a fine line and tricky business" but adds that "I don't know how you avoid it right now. It's not necessarily comfortable, but we all have a duty at this point to say something about what's going on."

In that regard, Malone, Magnie and their mates figure that STREET SYMPHONY is the perfect title for this particular landmark in the subdudes history.

"All over the country," Malone explains, "the real shit evolves form the street. when people want change, they get outside and they get a sign and they start marching and singing. That's the beginning. If you get enough of them, things will change."

But what remains the same is the subdudes' pursuit of musical excellence and excitement, embodied yet again on STREET SYMPHONY.

Those virtues have seldom been displayed better than on STREET SYMPHONY, the subdudes' third album since regrouping in 2002 after a five-year hiatus. Richly crafted and fiercely executed, it's the document of a veteran band that's still learning, growing and getting better at what it does.

"Basically what we wanted was to go in and capture the live vibe of this band," explains Tommy Malone (vocals, guitar), who co-founded the subdudes in 1987 with former Continental Drifter John Magnie (vocals, keyboards) and Steve Amedee (vocals, percussion). Tim Cook (vocals, bass, percussion) and Jimmy Messa (bass, guitar) arrived in subsequent years. "We often hear people say they love to come see us, but the records are just not what we are. They're not what we sound like. This time we wanted to get that vibe on tape, and I think we did."

Working with producer George Massenberg last March in Nashville, the band took a batch of songs they'd written in previous months and delivered vibrant performances on each. The group members arranged themselves in a circle, facing each other and feeding off that energy and communication as they played. "There was no glass, no separation," Malone recalls. "The machine never stopped. It was just a great way to record."

STREET SYMPHONY maintains the joyous, life-affirming vibe that's part and parcel of the subdudes' music as the group muses about the mythical (but certainly desired) "Fountain of Youth," channels a bit of street corner soul into "Work Clothes" and finds redemptive love in the gorgeous "Absolutely," that both belies and complements the more serious outlook on several of the 12 songs here. This is, after all, the subdudes' first set of new material post-Katrina and the devastation it caused to the band's home town in 2005, and it would seem unnatural if it didn't impact on the music.

The first single, "Poor Man's Paradise" is a stark look at New Orleans in the wake of that natural disaster. "Thorn in Her Side" employs the Statue of Liberty as a well-pointed metaphor about the current state of affairs in the United States. "Brother Man" calls for a bridge between the divides of race and religion. "I'm Your Town" asks "who's gonna save me?"

"We are a fairly political bunch," acknowledges Magnie. "We're a bunch of peaceniks. We don't like to get too specific with those political things, but of course we're basically a bunch of bleeding heart liberals." Malone agrees that topical songs are "a fine line and tricky business" but adds that "I don't know how you avoid it right now. It's not necessarily comfortable, but we all have a duty at this point to say something about what's going on."

In that regard, Malone, Magnie and their mates figure that STREET SYMPHONY is the perfect title for this particular landmark in the subdudes history.

"All over the country," Malone explains, "the real shit evolves form the street. when people want change, they get outside and they get a sign and they start marching and singing. That's the beginning. If you get enough of them, things will change."

But what remains the same is the subdudes' pursuit of musical excellence and excitement, embodied yet again on STREET SYMPHONY.