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“I’ve got no time for talkin’/ I’ve got to keep on walkin’”
27. Fats Domino – Walking to New Orleans
The facts:
Year: 1960.
Genre: R&B.
Country: United States of America.
Released as a single.
Acclaimed Music ranking: #2155.
Song ranking on Acclaimed Music in the artist’s discography: 3rd.
Ranks higher than Good Morning Captain by Slint, but lower than Vincent by Don McLean.
Place in the Acclaimed Music Song Poll 2015: Unranked.
The people:
Produced by Dave Bartholomew.
Lyrics by Bobby Charles.
Vocals by Fats Domino.
Guitar by Roy Montrell
Piano by Fats Domino
Drums by Cornelius "Tenoo" Coleman
Tenor Sax by Robert "Buddy" Hagans
Baritone Sax by Clarence Ford
Strings by the New Orleans Symphony Orchestra
Strings arranged by Milton Bush
The opinion:
Two weeks ago I talked about the simple talents of The Sex Pistols and how punk music was a reaction against the complexity and pretentions of progressive rock. Around the time progressive rock hit the charts, the early seventies, Fats Domino was about to retire from recording and touring. When The Sex Pistols in arrived in the mid-seventies he must have seemed like a relic from another age, something you couldn’t quite imagine existing alongside punk rock. I bet Fats Domino didn’t mind. He stayed home in New Orleans, performing in local joints and I like to imagine he was having a ball.
Why mention the Sex Pistols (let alone prog rock) in an article about Fats Domino, an artist from another style and era of music? Because Fats Domino like the Sex Pistols showed a way of being simple in an effective way, but in the exact opposite way. Whereas the Sex Pistols played their instruments in such a basic fashion it verges on the terrible and have to score points by being abrasive, Fats is an accomplished pianist who favours simple melodies that gets you in a relaxed mood. If from a musical perspective punk was a return to simpler roots it begs the question why nobody returned to Fats’ roots of gentle, laidback songs. Perhaps reggae filled that hole in some ways, albeit with a druggier and frequently more political vibe.
I think the answer is that Fats was never fashionable. Nobody denies the importance of Fats Domino from a historic viewpoint: his awesome The Fat Man from 1950 is well-known to be one of the oldest rock-and-roll records. Besides, Fats was something of a hit machine during the fifties, being popular even among white listeners that usually didn’t listen to black artists. Yet this might be the problem. Whereas Little Richard was shocking people with his sexual performances and songs and Chuck Berry added the thunder to the electric guitar, the gentle Fats Domino was making inoffensive piano pieces. While comparing him with other black artists of the time Pierro Scaruffi called Fats Domino “unthreatening” and it doesn’t sound like a compliment. Nowadays Fats Domino is mostly the guy behind (the beautiful) Blueberry Hills and as an unlikely survivor of hurricane Katrina.
This all falls in a long tradition of low appreciation for easy listening and simple pop ditties in music criticism. I’m sometimes guilty of this fact, I admit. But not here: I really like Fats Domino. He has such a natural easy-going groove I find him hard to resist. It seems to be a match between the artist’s character and the songs he made. It is said that Fats Domino had such a relaxed character that he would probably never have put in the effort to actually record anything if he hadn’t met his long-time producer Dave Bartholomew, whose strict and passionate demeanour somehow helped to get Fats in the studio. All Fats Domino’s hits were produced by Bartholomew. It’s one of the great collaborations in rock music.
This collaboration didn’t end with Walking to New Orleans, but it was their last big hit. By this time Fats Domino might have recycled the same melodies and piano lines perhaps a bit too much and it seemed the duo were trying something new. This also resulted in more up-tempo songs like My Girl Josephine and Let the Four Winds Blow, that pack more punch than your average Domino single. And it resulted in Walking to New Orleans, which is even more laidback than usual, but has a very different arrangement.
The thing that stands out the most is that, rare for a Fats record, the shuffling piano is not the standout instrument. I admit that after long searching I still don’t know what it is exactly that makes the clicking sounds that starts the song, but it gives the song its groove. I love that this makes the song sound like a walk, as if each clack is like the sound of a foot stepping on the ground. I can’t hear this song without imagining Fats slowly making his way to New Orleans. I hope he doesn’t have to walk too far.
Besides that, we also have the strings, which are very prominent and really something exceptional for a Fats song. They drown out his piano somewhat, which could have been a bad decision, but it works because they give the song a slight sad edge, which is necessary in a tale of lost love. The strings were added without consulting Fats beforehand. Bartholomew thought the song needed something extra and ask Milton Bush to copy the main melody with strings. It worked and luckily Fats Domino liked the result.
Domino’s repertoire always existed halfway between covers and songs he himself penned. This was a rare song that wasn’t a cover, but was actually written specifically for Fats. Bobby Charles had already written a song before that Fats Domino covered, Before I Grow too Old. When Fats was touring he made a stop at Charles’ house in Lafayette, Louisiana for a visit. There he invited Charles to have dinner one time at Fats’ place in New Orleans. Charles didn’t own a car, but said he would walk to New Orleans if he needed to. This inspired the lyrics of this week’s song. Fats Domino added a little reference to his commercial breakthrough hit Ain’t That a Shame to the lines, but mostly it is Charles who deserves the credit.
I should say that the lyrics contain the only element of this song I don’t like. For some reason I find the lines “You used to be my honey/ ‘til you spend all my money” cringe worthy and cheesy. So be it, this is one of Fats’ best songs and definitely one of the most likeable tracks of the early sixties. Sure it is inoffensive and simplistic, but it is memorable, original and probably more relaxing than any real life stroll towards New Orleans.
8/10
Other versions:
There are quite a few covers of Walking to New Orleans around, though I can’t find any by a prominent artist. What stands out the most is that all these people that covered this song seem to be old (or sound old anyway). Seriously, listen to the playlist below: old men galore.
It’s a good playlist though. The song always keeps its familiar melody and its relaxed vibe, but each artist seems to find some instrument to add or have a nice voice to compliment the song. Boogieman’s Friend has perhaps the best voice of them all and it is quite an essential cover if you like this song.
Dave Bartholomew himself returned to the song, accompanied by the Maryland Jazz Band of Cologne. They make the most jubilant version of the track to date. The rest is more familiar. Everyone keeps close to the boogie-like R&B sound. No covers in other genres (come on people, a reggae version is long overdue). At least everything is worth a listen, if a little inessential next to Fats’ recording. It should be said though, the instrumental versions by The Runestones and Craig Duncan are quite nice.
The playlist: