Week 28: Satch Plays Fats: A Tribute to the Immortal Fats Waller
Well, it's week 28 and we've officially come full circle: ol' Pops was the one to kick this whole thing off, and this week he's back once again. Interestingly, that earlier album and this one were contemporaneous releases as well: Louis Armstrong Plays W. C. Handy helped revive public interest in Armstrong in 1954; Satch Plays Fats was the follow-up in 1955. Overall, I prefer Armstrong Plays W. C. Handy: they both feature stellar vocals and trumpeting from Armstrong, alongside great banter with Velma Middleton on several tracks, but the nearly nine-minute-long "St. Louis Blues" on the Handy album is unparalleled, and the whole thing is chock-full with a sheer joy that I don't think has been matched by anything else we've heard.
But beyond that simple comparison, what shall we chew on this week? Regular readers know that there isn't any prescribed structure for a Fifty weeks of jazz entry—perhaps we ought to examine this album's namesake, or the fascinating life of his chief collaborator? Or what about this Avakian fellow, whose name seems to grace every Columbia jazz record; ought we pull back the curtain there? Not to mention the music itself; there's some overlap with a Sarah Vaughan album; perhaps we're due for another Standards Showdown? All good options, but this week I want to zero in on one song in particular: one that hooked me with its intro, but kept me on the line with a linguistic puzzle.
Specifically, my favourite track this week is the lively and flirtatious "All That Meat and No Potatoes." I mentioned earlier that I love the banter between Armstrong and Middleton; this track's got it in spades. But the music's just as fun: Armstrong opens with a wide, bright, jaunty riff that he explores while the background instruments each take a turn joining in on the fun. Unsurprisingly, the chorus the really swings—but, ahem, what does the phrase "all that meat and no potatoes" mean, exactly? I'll give you the first half of the lyrics; see if you can figure it out (below, Armstrong's part is bolded):
Hey Pops! What’s wrong Daddy?
You look like something's botherin’ you
There's nothin’ botherin’ me honey
That a piece of roast beef can’t fix upA man works hard, then comes on home
Expects to find stew with that fine ham bone
He opens the door, then starts to lookin’
Say, woman, what’s this stuff you cookin’?Now all that meat and no potatoes
It just ain’t right, just like green tomatoes
Here I’m waitin’
Palpitatin’
With all that meat and no potatoes
Pencils down—what did you come up with? Of course, we all know the phrase "meat and potatoes," meaning something plain or pedestrian—but that doesn't seem to quite fit here. "All that meat and no potatoes" suggests a certain imbalance, but in the context of 1940s,1 that strikes me as a fortuitous one: surely midst WWII you'd happily take a double serving of meat and forego the potatoes?
The trick to deciphering this one is to understand that every song from the 1930s to the 1950s2 that purports to be about food is actually about sex. Through that lens, we realize that Fats isn't really complaining about his dinner (his nickname matched his figure; he hardly seems the type). Rather, he's lamenting that his otherwise buxom ("all that meat") lady friend sports somewhat underdeveloped bazongas ("and no potatoes!")—the breasts, of course, being the most tuberous aspect of the female physique.
Don't believe me? I don't blame you; it certainly doesn't seem to agree with certain dictionaries of idioms. But whereas other, lesser blogs3 are happy to simply purport this as fact, here at the Simpsonian we pride ourselves on our research, and by research, I mean asking ChatGPT. Spare me your scowl, philistine; yes, upon first asking, ChatGPT simply regurgitated many of the same sources upon which I've just heaped scorn, but—and here's the thing!—you can just ask it for a better source. In the present case, that yielded Green's Dictionary of Slang, which appears to have garnered praise from the academics, in addition to the imprimatur of Oxford University Press (but see also some mild criticism from—where else?—Language Log). Green has a direct hit for our phrase, which confirms the ribald definition, and even offers a further literary citation as evidence. It also offers many other filthy euphemistic uses of the word "meat" (including an application of "all that meat and no potatoes" to the male anatomy), but that's neither here nor there.
Well, that about does it for me this week; I'm stuffed. There's many fine details we haven't the time to discuss (like the "Rhapsody in Blue" quotation in "Ain't Misbehavin’"!), but allow me to steal Mike Judge's conclusion for myself: at the end of Office Space, the flames devouring Initech are stoked by some hot—and strangely familiar—background jazz.4 You guessed it—all that meat and no potatoes!
Favourite track: All That Meat and No Potatoes
The first recording I can find of "All That Meat and No Potatoes" dates back to 1941—the page for that recording on the "Discography Of American Historical Recordings" lets you stream the original Fats audio. Armstrong's cover sounds more complete to me overall, but I love the heavy punch that Waller puts on the downbeat. Listen for yourself; the website even offers an embed option for me to easily share it:
…oh brother.
And ever since then until the present day too, fine.
If you're out there, Digital Citizen, I promise this ribbing is intended in nothing but good fun; us .ca registrants have to stick together. For you, this track was one of the Best Songs I Heard for the First Time in 2010—allow me to join you in that assessment, a mere 15 years belatedly. (You need to fix your link to the full list, though.)
Spoilers for Office Space, sorry. But seriously, if you haven't already seen it, you truly owe it to yourself to correct that. Also, thanks to Reddit user sonofabutch for pointing out this connection.