When Professor Longhair tickled the ivories, the world stopped to listen. Nobody played like Fess, before or since. This recently unearthed treasure of a ’70s performance makes you want to weep with frustration because you weren’t there to witness it. Recorded live at the University of Chicago by a Chicago radio station during the National folk Festival on Feb 1, 1976, the 57-year-old Fess was magnificent. Even though the mix is boomy, sounding like it was recorded in a marble tomb, everybody bleeding all over each other, you get used to it after a few minutes, riding along on Fess’ glorious, eccentric journey through time and space.
From the opening notes of “Doin’ It,” it’s obvious Fess has his hair down for the occasion and is letting it blow in the wind. His carnival calliope is open for business, spinning out notes out in a torrent of second line/Calypso that blankets the stage with a Fess blizzard. When he hollers for Billy, guitarist Billy Gregory steps in with some of the wildest string music ever put on record, hard-rockin’ blues at a blistering pace that somehow meshes with Fess’ time bandit theories of improvisation that blissfully ignore the laws of space and time.
Gregory had the tape for the last 25 years, eventually showing it to Orleans records label owner Carlo Ditta. Gregory remixed and remastered the tape, doing a great job with a flawed master.
“Here’s a tune I did back in ’68,” Fess says, introducing “Big Chief,” rattling and rolling, whooping and yodeling like a man as full of fire as the Big chief’s flag boy. Fess had built up such a momentum that when he stopped, it caught Gregory completely by surprise, causing him to stumble to a halt with a few stringed blats escaping before he can shut himself down.
Atlantic Records co-founder Ahmet Ertegun, who recorded Fess’ classic “Tipitina” for the label in ’53 composed “Mess Around.” This one comes through loud and clear, Fess rockin’ it like an express train barreling along at a dangerous pace. When he hollers “Play,” Gregory steps up with a solo like Clapton with his pants on fire. “I got it,” Fess shouts, taking it back with a clatter, syncopated notes falling over one another like a line of toppled dominoes. But the band is paying close attention on this one, so when Fess stutters to a few false stops, they’re right there with him till his final plink rings out.
“Mardi Gras In New Orleans” features Fess whistling like a demented canary on the official party anthem of New Orleans. It’s a short version, clocking in at under three minutes, but Fess gives it to you fast and furious.
Fess grafted the melody from “Red Beans” onto the lyrics from “Got My Mojo Workin,” and it’s a perfect fit, Fess pounding along in the graveyard, waving his hand of glory.
“Fess’s Boogie” is a glorious trainwreck, Gregory trying desperately to keep up with Fess’ mood swings and tempo shifts, keeping it chugging along till Fess abruptly stomps on the brakes for the final time.
It’s a tragedy that there’s not more of Fess left for us. This one is a welcome addition, a tribute to the power and the glory of New Orleans’ finest piano-pounding eccentric, a fearless innovator and improvisor whose music epitomizes the spirit of Carnival year round.
