Welcome to an exploration into the world of Lloyd Price songs, focusing on his iconic hit, “Lawdy Miss Clawdy.” This deep dive into music history celebrates not only a fantastic record but also the centennial birthday of Dave Bartholomew, a true pioneer of rock and roll, who produced this landmark track. “Lawdy Miss Clawdy” isn’t just a song; it’s a cornerstone in the evolution of rock music, and through it, we’ll uncover the rich tapestry of influences and collaborations that defined an era.
A vintage jukebox with the website logo "500songs.com" displayed, symbolizing the history of rock music.
This episode is particularly special as “Lawdy Miss Clawdy” almost didn’t get its own spotlight. Initially intended to be discussed as part of a broader overview of Lloyd Price songs, a remarkable coincidence changed our course. As we charted the timeline of rock and roll history, “Lawdy Miss Clawdy” emerged as the next pivotal record in line, aligning perfectly with the 100th birthday of its producer, Dave Bartholomew, born on December 24th, 1918. This serendipitous timing presented an unmissable opportunity to honor Bartholomew’s immense contributions to music and delve into the story behind one of Lloyd Price’s most enduring songs.
Dave Bartholomew’s influence extends far beyond just this one track. While we touched upon his significance in our previous episode on “The Fat Man” by Fats Domino, Bartholomew’s role as a key architect of fifties music warrants a more detailed examination. He was instrumental in bringing the distinctive “Spanish tinge” to rhythm and blues, and his partnership with Fats Domino yielded numerous chart-topping hits. Furthermore, Bartholomew’s talents weren’t confined to Domino; he produced classics for Frankie Ford and T-Bone Walker, penned “One Night” (a hit for Smiley Lewis and later Elvis Presley), and even wrote Chuck Berry’s sole number one hit, “My Ding-A-Ling.”
[excerpt “My Ding-A-Ling” by Chuck Berry]
While “My Ding-A-Ling” might not represent Berry at his artistic peak, it underscores the breadth of Bartholomew’s impact across the musical landscape. Despite his monumental contributions, Bartholomew’s story remains surprisingly under-documented. A comprehensive biography is still missing, and even essential texts on rhythm and blues history offer limited in-depth analysis of his work. Our understanding of Bartholomew is often pieced together from fragmented mentions and connections within narratives focused on other artists. However, his extensive collaborations paint a vivid picture of his importance. So, let’s delve into “Lawdy Miss Clawdy,” tracing the intertwined paths of Dave Bartholomew and Fats Domino after their initial success with “The Fat Man.”
“The Fat Man” was a breakthrough hit, but its success introduced friction into the producer-performer dynamic between Bartholomew and Domino. During the promotional tour, Domino, the vocalist, was part of a package headlined by Bartholomew’s band. Domino’s sets were brief, while Bartholomew’s band dominated the stage time. This disparity fueled resentment. Domino felt Bartholomew unfairly profited, while Bartholomew perceived Domino’s rising popularity as eclipsing his own role. Beyond professional tensions, personality clashes emerged. Domino, a self-proclaimed homebody, deeply disliked touring, especially with a newborn son waiting for him back home. His aversion to travel was so strong that he initially missed tour dates, only relenting after union intervention. He even packed comfort food from home, anticipating culinary unfamiliarity on the road.
Domino’s introverted and sheltered nature contrasted sharply with Bartholomew’s more worldly and socially adept persona. Domino’s naiveté was evident when his debut record was released – he lacked a record player and had to rely on jukeboxes to hear his own music. This disparity in personalities and experiences created friction with the more seasoned Bartholomew. Yet, despite these tensions, their collaboration continued to flourish, producing gems like their rendition of the New Orleans traditional song “Eh La Bas!”, which Bartholomew reimagined with boogie-woogie pianist Professor Longhair as “Hey! La Bas Boogie.”
[excerpt “Hey! La Bas Boogie” by Fats Domino]
Their collaborative process was also fraught with creative disagreements. Both artists viewed themselves as the primary creative force. Domino believed his piano skills and vocals were central to their success, downplaying Bartholomew’s contributions. He felt his song ideas were largely complete, minimizing the producer’s role. Bartholomew, conversely, considered Domino’s musical ideas rudimentary, often based on simple chord structures and nursery rhyme-like melodies. He saw his own songwriting as more sophisticated, enriched by stronger narratives and clever wordplay. Bartholomew believed the success of Domino’s songs stemmed from his (Bartholomew’s) arrangements and refinements. Domino’s limited musical theory contrasted with Bartholomew’s formal knowledge, and Domino’s simple lyrics as a non-native English speaker differed from Bartholomew’s more complex and narrative-driven songwriting. Bartholomew felt he elevated Domino’s raw ideas into polished hits.
Bartholomew resented Domino’s burgeoning stardom, while Domino felt patronized by Bartholomew in the studio, treated more as an employee than an equal partner. However, this creative friction was paradoxically the engine of their success. Bartholomew’s superior songwriting and arranging skills synergized with Domino’s innate talent for hooks and captivating performance. Their contrasting strengths, combined with the tension between them, resulted in a musical output that surpassed the sum of their individual parts.
A portrait of Lloyd Price, a prominent figure in early rock and roll, showcasing his stylish attire and confident demeanor.
While Bartholomew navigated his complex relationship with Fats Domino, another source of conflict arose with Al Young, a white New Orleans record store owner associated with Lew Chudd, the owner of Imperial Records. Bartholomew disliked Young’s attempts to take credit for production work and, more significantly, his encroachment on songwriting royalties for Bartholomew’s compositions. This simmering conflict reached a boiling point upon Bartholomew’s return from a grueling Thanksgiving tour with Domino. The Midwestern tour had been harsh on the Louisiana musicians, ill-equipped for the cold, and financially exploitative, yielding a meager $200 for the entire band instead of the promised $2000. Domino even had to wire home for bus fare back to New Orleans.
Adding insult to injury, Bartholomew visited Al Young’s record shop to find Young flaunting a $1500 Christmas bonus from Imperial Records, a reward for his “hard work.” Bartholomew, who felt he had contributed far more to the company’s success, received no bonus. He attributed this disparity to racial bias, concluding that his race was the reason for being overlooked while Young, a white man, was rewarded. This perceived injustice spurred Bartholomew to resign from Imperial Records and pursue a freelance career, seeking opportunities wherever they arose.
Domino continued to record in their established style, even achieving bigger hits like “Goin’ Home,” which followed their signature formula. However, Al Young assumed the producer role. While Domino delivered his characteristic performance and the song retained the tresillo rhythm, Young’s lack of musical expertise was evident. The arrangement suffered from a haphazard quality, and the saxophone solo was noticeably off-key.
[excerpt: solo from “Goin’ Home”, Fats Domino]
Despite its flaws, “Goin’ Home” became a major hit, reaching number one on the R&B charts and breaking into the pop top thirty. Al Young, despite his musical shortcomings, secured a co-writing credit, prioritizing personal gain over artistic integrity. The song’s influence permeated the music scene, evident in tracks like Faye Adams’ “Shake a Hand.”
[excerpt “Shake a Hand”, Faye Adams]
“Goin’ Home” also resonated with a young Ray Charles, whose work we’ll explore later. Nevertheless, it lacked the depth and sophistication of Domino’s collaborations with Bartholomew. Recognizing the decline in quality, Lew Chudd attempted to persuade Bartholomew to rejoin Domino. However, Bartholomew rebuffed these overtures, severing ties with Imperial Records and Al Young. He was confident in his abilities and sought new collaborations, finding an avenue with Specialty Records.
Specialty Records, a Los Angeles-based label, became a significant hub for New Orleans musicians, despite the geographical distance. Los Angeles labels, rather than closer regional options, seemed to gravitate towards the New Orleans sound. Specialty was helmed by Art Rupe, remarkably still alive and even older than Bartholomew, a pivotal figure in 1950s rhythm and blues. Rupe produced Roy Milton’s “R.M.’s Blues,” often cited as a contender for the “first rock and roll record,” notable for its fusion of boogie piano and a pronounced backbeat.
[excerpt: “R.M.’s Blues” by Roy Milton]
Rupe’s interest in New Orleans music was sparked by Fats Domino’s Imperial releases. He traveled to New Orleans to scout for similar talent. He organized auditions at Cosimo Matassa’s studio. Just as Rupe was about to return to Los Angeles empty-handed, Lloyd Price walked in and performed “Lawdy Miss Clawdy.” Rupe immediately recognized Price’s potential and cancelled his flight, eager to record him.
Price was then a jingle writer for a local radio station, creating music for advertising segments. Radio advertising in that era resembled modern podcast advertising, with DJs often delivering ad reads and varying their scripts. One DJ for whom Price wrote jingles used the catchphrase “Lawdy Miss Clawdy.” Price had crafted a melody for these words, adapting a pre-existing tune, which gained enough traction to inspire a full song.
Price had also performed with Dave Bartholomew’s band in Kenner, his hometown. Bartholomew, no longer with Lew Chudd, was working freelance at Matassa’s studio and invited Price to record. Price, unfamiliar with New Orleans, struggled to find Rampart Street, arriving late for the session. Fortunately, he eventually located the studio, leading to a pivotal recording session.
During the recording of “Lawdy Miss Clawdy,” Bartholomew grew frustrated with the guitarist, Ernest McLean, or potentially the pianist Salvador Doucette, depending on accounts. Bartholomew sought a specific rhythm but encountered a jazz-oriented musician who lacked feel for rhythm and blues. As Bartholomew’s patience wore thin, fate intervened.
Fats Domino happened to be passing by Matassa’s studio and decided to visit, a familiar recording location. He encountered Bartholomew, with whom he hadn’t worked in over a year since March 1952. Initial tension gave way as Bartholomew extended an invitation for Domino to join the session. Domino initially hesitated, citing contractual obligations, but after observing the session and enjoying a few drinks, he spontaneously decided to participate. This impromptu collaboration resulted in “Lawdy Miss Clawdy,” a song that dethroned “Goin’ Home” from the top of the R&B charts and became a defining anthem of the rock and roll era.
“Lawdy Miss Clawdy” echoes the spirit of “The Fat Man,” featuring many of the same musicians and the same arranger, even sharing melodic similarities. However, being recorded three years later, it reflects the stylistic evolution of rock and roll. “Lawdy Miss Clawdy” exhibits greater rhythmic complexity, largely attributed to Dave Bartholomew’s arrangement.
Let’s dissect the musical elements of “Lawdy Miss Clawdy,” starting with Fats Domino’s piano. Domino primarily employs triplets, a signature element of his playing style.
[excerpt: piano part from “Lawdy Miss Clawdy”]
Earl Palmer’s drums showcase a transition from early shuffle rhythms to a more pronounced backbeat. He masterfully blends swing and backbeat elements, creating polyrhythms. The bass line provides another rhythmic layer, while the horns contribute sustained, resonant “blaaaat” sounds. Over this intricate rhythmic foundation, Lloyd Price sings with a Roy Brown-influenced vocal style, infused with youthful energy – Price was only nineteen. The song captures teenage yearning and unrequited love. Herb Hardesty’s saxophone solo is the crowning touch, a prototype for the iconic solos that would become a hallmark of Domino’s subsequent hits. “Lawdy Miss Clawdy” is a remarkable synthesis of elements, solidifying the New Orleans sound and setting a template for countless artists. “The Fat Man” was a pioneering prototype, but “Lawdy Miss Clawdy” is a more refined, confident, and fully realized expression of that sound.
Art Rupe was undoubtedly delighted with the outcome. However, Specialty Records underwent changes soon after this recording. Rupe expanded New Orleans operations, appointing Johnny Vincent to oversee them. While Rupe was considered a relatively ethical record executive for the era, Johnny Vincent was notorious for questionable business practices. Huey “Piano” Smith and Mac Rebennack famously resorted to armed confrontation to recover unpaid dues from Vincent at his later record label, Ace Records, highlighting his reputation for financial impropriety.
Rebennack also criticized Vincent’s production skills, or lack thereof. Vincent was characterized as a con man with little understanding of record production. Dave Bartholomew’s departure from Specialty Records shortly after “Lawdy Miss Clawdy” may not be coincidental, potentially linked to Johnny Vincent’s arrival, though precise timelines are unclear. However, Lew Chudd, upon hearing “Lawdy Miss Clawdy” and comparing it to Art Young’s productions for Domino, recognized a significant quality gap. Through an intermediary, Chudd successfully re-established contact with Bartholomew, rehiring him at Imperial. In April 1952, the same month “Lawdy Miss Clawdy” was released, Domino and Bartholomew reunited at Matassa’s studio, recording “Poor Me,” a collaboration embodying their combined artistic strengths.
[excerpt: “Poor Me” — Fats Domino]
Domino and Bartholomew maintained a productive studio partnership until at least 1967, with intermittent live collaborations for decades afterward. Their collaborations continued to shape the landscape of rock and roll. Lloyd Price’s career also thrived after “Lawdy Miss Clawdy.” His follow-up single, recorded during the same session, became a double-sided hit, with both sides reaching the R&B top ten. The subsequent single, “Ain’t it a Shame,” also achieved success, perhaps inspiring Domino and Bartholomew. However, Price’s career experienced a lull by 1956, leading to “Forgive Me Clawdy,” a sequel to his initial hit.
[excerpt “Forgive Me Clawdy”: Lloyd Price]
But “Lawdy Miss Clawdy” experienced a resurgence in 1956, covered by both Elvis Presley and Little Richard. These covers revitalized Price’s career, paving the way for later hits. We’ll revisit Lloyd Price songs and his subsequent successes in future discussions. “Lawdy Miss Clawdy” has had an enduring legacy, covered by artists ranging from Paul McCartney to The Replacements. Fortunately, many key figures behind this iconic record enjoyed long and prosperous careers, a welcome contrast to stories of artists fading into obscurity. Lloyd Price continued performing into his eighties, releasing his most recent album in 2016. Art Rupe lived to be over 100. While Fats Domino passed away in 2017 at 89, he enjoyed immense wealth, accolades, and recognition throughout his life.
As we conclude, this episode is released on December 24th, 2018, Dave Bartholomew’s hundredth birthday. We extend our heartfelt birthday wishes to him, hoping he enjoys many more years. To conclude, here’s a recording Bartholomew contributed to at the age of ninety-three:
[Excerpt: Alia Fleury “Christmas in the Quarters”]
And to our listeners celebrating, we wish you a Merry Christmas.
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