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Music writer Keith Spera traveled to New York City with Fats Domino last week. This is the fifth of his reports from the road.
So I'm in the basement men's room of the NBC studios in mid-town Manhattan, just down the hall from "The Today Show" green room. It is 9 a.m. Friday morning. Leo Nocentelli, the most influential New Orleans guitarist of the past 40 years thanks to his tenure with the Meters, sets up a CD player borrowed from a security guard on the granite countertop.
He is here to back Fats Domino on "The Today Show." But first he wants to give saxophonist Donald Harrison Jr. a taste of a new Mardi Gras song under construction, and the bathroom is the first place he finds an available electrical outlet.
So Nocentelli cues up a CD rough cut of "Hey Now Hey." He air-guitars bass
lines and sings lyrics about Mardi Gras Indians. Harrison, an actual Mardi Gras
Indian, nods his head and hoots in approval. Nocentelli turns it up; the funk
echoes off the walls of the narrow restroom.
Inspired, Harrison pops in a CD with a new Mardi Gras song HE is working on. A game of funk one-upmanship ensues.
"I need you on this," says Harrison, grooving.
"We're on the same page," says Nocentelli, also grooving.
NBC security guards, pages and staffers file in and out of the bathroom, not sure what to make of this. Tipitina's Foundation executive director Bill Taylor stumbles upon the scene, and is unfazed. "Four minutes until we're on, guys."
Warmed up and ready to go, Nocentelli and Harrison join the rest of the band - keyboardist Ivan Neville, bassist Nick Daniels, Toots Hibbert of Toots & the Maytals and drummer Adam Deitch - in the "Today Show" ground floor studio. Across 49th Street, a crane is raising the 80-foot Rockefeller Center Christmas tree. Outside at the far end of the studio, the day's gawkers peer through the glass wall.
Domino makes his way to the piano. Walter Miles, the cabbie and friend serving as his valet on this trip, asks if he wants to wear his leather jacket during the show. Yes, he does - but removes a banana from the inside pocket.
During his brief performance at a tribute concert Thursday night, Domino abandoned "Blueberry Hill" halfway through. But this morning, he is determined to do it all and do it right.
The cameras tape a run-through to use as a teaser for the live performance at the end of the show. Domino is not satisfied. He and Nocentelli - who Fats addresses as "Guitar Man" - consult on the proper chord with which to end "Blueberry Hill."
The live broadcast is still 30 minutes away, so Domino heads for a small dressing room behind the studio. "Is there another piano around here?" he asks. He wants to rehearse more.
What has become clear over these days with Domino is that he is a perfectionist and his own worst critic. Much of his infamous performance anxiety stems from doubts about his 79-year-old body's ability to live up to standards set decades ago.
In the dressing room, he watches a playback of himself on a monitor. "I haven't been playing for six months," he says, apologizing/explaining for what he perceives as rusty chops.
"You sound good," says Lauren Cangelosi, the Tipitina's Foundation executive assistant helping to look after him.
"I wish I saw it like that," says Fats.
He heads back to the empty "Today Show" studio to practice. "If you think about it too much, you mess up," he says.
Cangelosi, young, blonde and pretty, rests her elbows on the piano. Fats reels off snippets of his greatest hits, including "Whole Lotta Lovin'," "I Want to Walk You Home" and "I'm Walkin'." "I got lucky with those songs," he says.
He wants to consult with another musician, any musician, on chord changes, so Cangelosi goes to find one. Walter Miles wanders off to the far side of the set, and Domino is left alone at the piano. He carefully works the keys and hums "Blueberry Hill" to himself, trying to build the song's bridge.
Cangelosi returns with Nick Daniels; the other musicians soon follow, and they prepare for another practice run up "Blueberry Hill." By the third try, Domino is cooking. He improvises lyrics: "Give me my beer/cause the time is near." He laughs and jerks his head back in joy.
"Give me my lunch," he says, reaching for the green bottle discretely stashed behind a piano leg.
Finally it is time to go live on "Today." "The moment of truth," says Bill Taylor.
Twenty seconds before air time, Fats starts "Blueberry Hill" early, then realizes his mistake. He squints into the studio lights: "I can't see you, bruh!" he says, searching for the producer who will signal him.
Then "Today" co-hosts Hoda Kotb and Natalie Morales are speaking live to the nation. They plug the Tipitina's Foundation and the organizations new benefit CD, "Goin' Home: A Tribute to Fats Domino." They introduce Domino, and it's all up to him.
He nails "Blueberry Hill," navigating the bridge and locking in with Nocentelli for a spot-on ending. Hoda - who had paid a special visit to the green room earlier to reconnect with her New Orleans constituency -- bounds over and plants a big kiss on Domino's cheek.
"Who's better than you?" Hoda says.
"You!" replies Domino.
On the air again, Fats freezes as Hoda asks him to play something else. He grasps her hand and sings, "I want to hold your hand," then suggests they do "Blueberry Hill" again. Why not?
The band plunges in as the credits roll. The show is finished, but Fats is not.
With the cameras, and pressure, off, he picks up steam on the hottest version of "Blueberry Hill" yet. Dozens of staffers crowd the studio, clapping, cheering and dancing; Hoda and Morales boogie alongside a woman from the studio's cleaning service. Fats beams as he works his magic.
The song wraps up with a thunderous ovation and a misty eye or two, as everyone revels in the Domino effect.
He's not quite done. He uncorks the lickety-split opening of "I'm Ready," finally having fun. Just as the other musicians jump in, he laughs and calls it a morning.
"I want to kiss Fats," says the lovely Morales.
"Here I am!" says Fats.
Afterward, Ivan Neville reflects on what transpired. "Fats got comfortable," Neville says. "The ladies were talking to him. He was like a youngster."
"The Today Show" was not Fats' only obligation Friday. He stopped by a luncheon in his honor at the tony Michael's and chatted with Mel Brooks, then retreated to his hotel.
The pace finally catches up with him. His fingers swell to the point that his star-shaped ring is cut off with wire cutters borrowed from the hotel's maintenance staff. He takes medication and goes to bed.
Fats is still sleeping at 7 p.m. Friday when he is due to sign autographs at the Border's Bookstore at Columbus Circle in Manhattan. It is cold and pouring rain. The Tipitina's team decides to let him sleep.
It falls to them to break the bad news to the 100-plus fans lined up inside Border's. Fortunately, there is a consolation prize. Fats does not scrawl autographs -- he writes them out meticulously and slowly. To save time at the signing, he had pre-signed 200 "Goin' Home" CD booklets. So Taylor, Von Kurnatowski and Cangelosi distribute these to the fans at Borders. Most are understanding; a few are not. Many sign a get well card for Fats; some leave gifts.
Fats had given his all Friday morning at "Today." By nightfall, there was nothing left to give.
