Go Go Domino

Two years after Hurricane Katrina's floodwaters gushed through New Orleans' Lower Ninth Ward, the neighborhood is now showing signs of life. Red-and-white lawn signs warning residents of the impending deadline for the federally funded Road Home homeowner's-assistance grants dot the grassy median along St. Claude Avenue, which is covered with a fresh coat of blacktop. Where street signs are still missing, some conscientious neighbors have carefully tacked up hand-lettered markers. One of these-just past the ironically named Flood Street - marks the intersection of Caffin and St. Claude, where Antoine "Fats" Domino Jr. and his family made their home from 1950 until August 2005, when the New Orleans Harbor Police docked in eight-foot waters outside a second-story bedroom and evacuated the legendary piano man to safety.

Fats actually owned two homes on Caffin; He was evacuated from "the big house," the building where his family stayed. And next door stood the building music fans detoured into the Lower Ninth Ward to see. The double shotgun, with gold stars and the initials "FD" emblazoned across the front was flashy and homey at the same time, painted black and yellow with a neon sign bearing his name above the porch. Once coated with hurricane sludge up to the eaves, today the neon and the snazzy paint job are back. In the side yard is a billboard that reads, "The Tipitina's Foundation: Proudly Helping Fats Domino Rebuild His Neighborhood." Just a couple of blocks from the Industrial Canal, Fats' place was ground zero for the levee breach. Now, thanks to a partnership between Fats and the nonprofit musicians' aid group, it's looking - at least symbolically - like the central point for the recovery of New Orleans' musical community.

The Tipitina's Foundation, the nonprofit branch of the legendary music club, is the force behind two-disc set Goin' Home: A Tribute To Fats Domino, the latest fruit of the unlikely relationship between a very public organization and a very private man. For a rock 'n' roller, Fats is famously shy and reclusive. He's a notorious gig-canceler, and, at the last minute, bowed out of his closing slot at the 2006 New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival, although he did take the stage briefly to apologize. Outside Tipitina's at a show this past May - his first in almost three years - fans were still taking bets at 10 p.m. on whether the Fat Man would go on. He did. The foundation donated $100,000 toward rebuilding the house on Caffin; in turn, Fats gave them the proceeds from his 2006 album Alive and Kickin', his first release since 1993.

"It's nice that they thought that much of me to do what they're doing," Domino says in a rare interview, from his current home on the West Bank of the Mississippi River, just over the parish line from New Orleans. "Tipitina's, they do a lot of good things for a lot of people."

Fats' disciples pay tribute

Alive and Kickin' is a funky hodgepodge of styles, with old friends like Art Neville and Dr. John-who helped Taylor dig rarities out of the Domino catalog-alongside fans and inheritors of Domino's style. Randy Newman rasps his way through "Blue Monday." Willie Nelson sings an understated "I Hear You Knockin'." And Sir Elton John pulls off a campy reproduction of "Blueberry Hill." Some of the finer tracks on the album, though, are all-star collaborations. Bill Taylor, both the executive director of the Tipitina's Foundation and executive producer of Goin' Home, was able to mix and match performers in the studio. "I was like a kid in a candy store with some of this," he says. Neil Young, for instance, pairs with the Fisk Jubilee Gospel Singers on "Walkin' To New Orleans." Lenny Kravitz turns "Whole Lotta Loving" into a sunny, laidback groove anthem with the Rebirth Brass Band, Troy Andrews, and the funk professionalism of the former JB Horns. Robert Plant sits in with the legendary Louisiana swamp-pop outfit Li'l Band O' Gold on "It Keeps Rainin." As a cherry on top, the record features two out of four Beatles: John Lennon's version of "Ain't That A Shame," cut in the late '70s, and Paul McCartney singing "I Want To Walk You Home" on top of an instrumental track recorded by legendary producer Allen Toussaint - the tune that McCartney has often said inspired "I Want To Hold Your Hand."

In mid-August, Capitol/EMI Records released a 30-track compilation of Domino's greatest hits, including eight #1 singles. The ceremony at Tipitinas' French Quarter outpost to announce the release - and to present Fats with replacement copies of 20 gold records - was a typically brief affair. After glowing speeches by reps from Capitol/EMI and the RIAA, who presented Domino with their American Music Legend award (only the second they've ever given; the first going to Johnny Cash a decade ago), Domino took the microphone and said, "They want me to say something, but there ain't much to say except 'thanks.' Thank you." He smiled broadly, tipped his trademark captain's hat, and began looking for a way to leave the stage. However, a group of local music-industry reps, positioned strategically near the exit, kept him onstage for photos.

Shy and mighty

For a bashful man, Fats - an original 1986 inductee into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame - probably done more for rock 'n' roll with his sedate personality and staccato piano triplets than many more flamboyant performers. Second only to Elvis Presley for record sales in the '50s, Domino's New Orleans rhythm-and-blues sound crept onto the pop charts as early as the late '40s pushing open doors for artists like Little Richard and Presley himself. Dr. John, who took his first guitar lessons from Fats' guitar player in the early '50s, remembers seeing Domino play in New Orleans juke joints before rock 'n' roll was even a phrase. "He played everything," Dr. John remembers. "Antoine could play that shit to death. Some of the first songs I started figuring out [on the piano] was Fats tunes, just listening to those 78 records over and over. They called it rock 'n' roll, but he said, to me, 'It's just that old rhythm and blues.' He did pop and R&B and whatever else they called it in them days. He crossed over all those lines way back. And it was always just Antoine doing it that made it so cool."

Seventy-eight years before Katrina, Fats was born just blocks from the house on Caffin. "I had a lot of gold records, a lot of other things lost. I can't even remember it all," he says. "I miss just being down in the Ninth Ward, that's all. The people. We don't even know where each other at. I'm over the river now, and everyone's scattered." Which begs the question: Now that he's settled into his new home, and the neighborhood he remembers is literally washed away, will the Fat Man move back downtown?

"Sure, I would go back there, if they get the street together," he says. "But you know, I'm okay anywhere, as long as it's in New Orleans."

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