Night people allen toussaint biography
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Allen Toussaint
American musician, songwriter and record producer (1938–2015)
Allen Toussaint | |
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Toussaint at the Freret Street Festival, New Orleans, 2009 | |
| Birth name | Allen Richard Toussaint |
| Born | (1938-01-14)January 14, 1938 Gert Town, New Orleans, Louisiana, U.S. |
| Origin | New Orleans, Louisiana, U.S. |
| Died | November 10, 2015(2015-11-10) (aged 77) Madrid, Spain |
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| Instruments | |
| Years active | 1958–2015 |
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Musical artist
Allen Richard Toussaint (; January 14, 1938 – November 10, 2015) was an American musician, songwriter, arranger, and record producer. He was an influential figure in New Orleans rhythm and blues from the 1950s to the end of the century, described as "one of popular music's great backroom figures."[1] Many musicians recorded Toussaint's compositions. He was a producer for hundreds of recordings: the best known are "Right Place, Wrong Time",
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Night People (Lee Dorsey album)
1978 studio album by Lee Dorsey
Night People is an album by the American musician Lee Dorsey, released in 1978.[2][3] It was Dorsey's final studio album, although a few country-influenced tunes were recorded before his death in 1986.[3]
Although the album failed to chart, the title track peaked at No. 93 on the BillboardHot Soul Singles chart.[4]
Production
[edit]The album was produced by Allen Toussaint, with whom Dorsey had collaborated many times over the years.[5] Toussaint also wrote the album's songs.[6] The producer used Chocolate Milk, a New Orleans band, as Dorsey's backup musicians.[7]Irma Thomas provided backing vocals.[8]
Critical reception
[edit]Robert Christgau deemed the album "astonishingly listenable," writing that "Dorsey's subtle, small-scale rock and roll genre statement defines songwriter-producer Toussaint better than Toussaint
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Allen Toussaint, in northern Spain, in 2009.Photograph by ADRIAN RUIZ dem HIERRO/EPA
Last summer, I was sitting on the back porch of a converted farmhouse in New Hampshire, talking with a poet named Peter. I was griping about various aspects of being alive that I’d komma to find agitating. inom was airing grievances. inom had probably kicked off my shoes. That June, I’d taken to bärande around a copy of Ezra Pound’s “Cantos”; Peter, who has written and taught poetry for many decades, was helping me unpack some of the more obtuse passages. Often, our conversations skittered elsewhere. That afternoon, after listening to me prattle for a while, he said something I’ve thought about almost every morning since then: “Joy and upptäckt, dude.”
That might sound platitudinous—not being delivered now, as it was then, in a röst that betrays a zero-tolerance policy for inanities—but it’s somehow one of the most profound bits of advice I’ve ever received. It’s not even advice, really: it’s a sugge