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Domino, Fats
The year 1955 began ordinarily enough, with the standard musical trends of the time firmly entrenched and no particular reason for change. Major music labels were selling product that appealed to the masses, with little regard for artistic or cultural relevance. Songs that the labels deemed popular were often released in as many as three or four competing versions. When a song like “Unchained Melody” caught the interest of record buyers, other labels would find a singer from their own stable of artists, who would in turn record a new interpretation of the same song. Trends played a large part in determining what songs should be recorded. When coonskin caps and popguns were all the rage, four competing singers reached the Top 40 with differing versions of “The Ballad of Davy Crockett.” All in all, music was predictable, safe, and expendable.
Rumblings could be heard on the horizon though. Rhythm-and-blues artists were beginning to pull at the reins that confined them to the “race” charts. More importantly, parts of the white middle class began to pay attention. Many mainstream record buyers became attracted to the comparatively raw, urgent sound of rhythm and blues, but these songs rarely were recognized by the pop music charts, for various political and prejudicial reasons. When an original rhythm-and-blues record was released, it often had to compete against a Milquetoast cover version that received significantly more exposure and airplay. Because of the way the rating system worked, the bland remake would often chart higher than the original version, even if it sold fewer copies. How else could it be explained that “Ain’t That a Shame” by Fats Domino reached #10 for one week while the same song (hardly, if talent counts) by Pat Boone reached #1 for two weeks? Actually, there is another reason. White audiences were not yet comfortable with the untamed rhythms and lyrics of black rhythm and blues, and needed singers like Pat Boone to interpret the songs in a less intimidating manner. In 1955, minorities accounted for less than 10 percent of record sales. In other words, most buyers were white, and most of them preferred to buy what was familiar (i.e. white). A teenage-based counterculture was taking root, though, with musical tastes far more adventurous than its mainstream counterpart. It was this audience that finally put Fats Domino squarely at the center of popular music.
“Ain’t’ That a Shame” wasn’t Fats Domino’s first hit recording, but it was the first to substantially dent the popular music charts. He had been recording for years and, by 1955, already had a sizable number of hit records on the rhythm-and-blues charts. It could be argued (in fact, it is likely) that the exposure the song obtained from Pat Boone’s version actually helped Fats Domino’s original to be recognized by Middle America. After all, Fats Domino’s style was straightforward enough to be taken at face value. The lyrics did not have any “vulgar” connotation, and his delivery was unthreatening to suspicious white record buyers. Little Richard and Chuck Berry had the responsibility of confronting those barriers. It is more than likely, then, that the burgeoning youth counterculture combined with a number of mainstream record buyers to finally put rhythm-and-blues (or “rock and roll”) on the popular music charts.
 
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