Of all the early rock/R&B giants, Fats always seemed to me the most kindly, unassuming, natural talent. He had a lot of hits, and even the lesser of these were good; and, once in a while, he could surprise you. His album covers always had him flashing his patented smile; what dark clouds came up were in the grooves most of the time, and often, even some that should have been sad--"Ain't That a Shame," "Blueberry Hill"--came off as celebrations not of survival, but of good cheer, as if Fats were really saying to us "There'll be another dawn tomorrow, and another love." He was a family man, homebody, and it may finally be his death that might force any brave investigator to dig deep and find out if was indeed as without sin or flaws as his contemporaries, as we would find out, were.
As for his music, well...my most cherished boxes of 45's include more than a few by Fats: "The Fat Man" is a battered copy, and a template of everything basic to come; a lot of fun and (if you think about it) not really R&B, not really early proto-Rock & Roll...in fact, it's really just Fats' first. "Ain't That a Shame" (the original, not the overdubbed '60s side used on the original American Graffiti comp in '73); "Blueberry Hill," which must have seemed old in 1956, yet who much later would remember any other version?; "Whole Lotta Loving," a wink and a smooch but maybe a lot sexier and daring at the time than you might think, as was "I Want To Walk You Home," which was only as innocent as its listener; and what could be considered the great last track of any Domino comp (with or without orchestra), "Walking to New Orleans," a loping, almost cinematic recording that has Fats without his girl but knowing that he'll be fine along the way. You just know he was going to get back, for the smooth piano playing, the silky voice, the clever use of phrasing and scat, and the utter consistency and high quality of his body of work up till 1960 made that clear.
A very special man.
ED