A Quote by Dawn Richard

I really got back to my New Orleans roots - my grandfather played with Fats Domino. We had to leave after Katrina, but I feel like, spiritually, I'm back there. — © Dawn Richard
I really got back to my New Orleans roots - my grandfather played with Fats Domino. We had to leave after Katrina, but I feel like, spiritually, I'm back there.
I really wanted to give people that tool, that thing, that answer, 'Well, what are you going to do after Katrina? How does New Orleans come back?' And I'm thinking to myself, New Orleans is back. We're the definition of 'back.' We're the definition of 'rebirth,' of 'renaissance.'
I got thrown out of music school for even listening to Fats Domino and Ray Charles. I was asked, 'What kind of music do you like to listen to?' and I said, 'Well, I do like Paul Hindemith and Igor Stravinsky but I also like Fats Domino and Ray Charles,' and they literally said, 'Either forget about that or leave.'
Where Charlie Christian left off, Papoose started a new thing; he was an innovator of the guitar. The things he did during his recording career with Fats Domino in the Fifties and Sixties until the day he died was as much a part of the music of New Orleans as anybody else has had to offer.
Antoine 'Fats' Domino was a 1950s rock n' roll pioneer, a larger-than-life New Orleans figure, and a role model for the African-American community in a time of deep segregation.
'Treme' begins after Hurricane Katrina, and it's a year-by-year account of how everyday people there put their lives back together. It's sort of a testament to, or an argument for why, a great American city like New Orleans needs to be saved and preserved.
He's a seminal force, a guru, an original creator of the New Orleans piano style.. the teacher of great players like Fats Domino, Allen Toussaint, Mac Rebenack, James Booker, and Huey Smith. All acknowledge him as The Great Master.
With Hurricane Katrina and all that kind of stuff happening, you needed somebody to rally for your city, to tell that story. Since Hurricane Katrina, we didn't really have nobody that said, 'I'm gonna tell New Orleans' story, and I'm gonna stick to New Orleans.'
Essence is something I always enjoy, because I love New Orleans. Since they brought it back to New Orleans, it's a special place to me. We been doing it since the beginning. We did it when it was in Houston, but there's nothing like New Orleans.
Everything changed after Katrina. It's a new New Orleans now and I think it's better. It was a wake-up call and it rebuilt and cleaned up the city. It all happened for a reason. I'm now grateful for Katrina.
My dad was the district attorney of New Orleans for about 30 years. And when he opened his campaign headquarters back in the early '70s, when I was 5 years old, my mother wanted me to play the national anthem. And they got an upright piano on the back of a flatbed truck and I played it.
I did this campaign that was called "Back to the Basics" where I went back to the street, went back to my block, and really felt the people. We've got to go back to that sometimes. We distance ourselves from that and we see it from afar. Some people can't relate back to that; once you're out of it, they don't want to relate back to that. It's always good to get back to the basics, though. You've got to touch the roots, you've got to touch those people. Regardless of what's going on, people always respect that.
Music in New Orleans has always been the heartbeat that drives the city. It was that even before Katrina, and that's what we had to rely on after the storm.
I believe that New Orleans had a level of sin that was offensive to God, that there was to be a homosexual parade on the Monday that the Katrina came, and the promise of that parade was that it was going to reach a level of sexuality never demonstrated before in any of the other Gay Pride parades. So I believe that the judgment of God is a very real thing, and I believe that the Hurricane Katrina was, in fact, the judgment of God against the city of New Orleans.
The gateway to freedom...was somewhere close to New Orleans where most Africans were sorted through and sold. I had driven through New Orleans on tour and I'd been told my great grandfather had lived way back up in the woods among the evergreens in a log cabin. I revived the era with a song about a coloured boy named Johnny B. Goode. My first thought was to make his life follow as my own had come along, but I thought it would seem biased to white fans to say 'coloured boy' and changed it to 'country boy'.
My family's business was actually an amusement park in New Orleans. My grandfather had started that, and my grandmother was a dance maven in New Orleans. It was just the theatricality and the Mardi Gras and the pageantry that I fell in love with at an early age.
The Domino Effect could stand for anything. It could be just the simple game of the domino rocks falling off one after another, all kinds of decision we make that come back to our face. For example take an anorexic model that stops eating until she dies, or the bombs that a are thrown in a war and the effect they have on people, or even something simple as listening to a record that you like until you get bored of it and leave it in your shelf.
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