In the early-morning hours of January 25, the Acadiana music scene suffered the premature loss of yet another talented musician. Jimmy Domengeaux, the 44-year-old guitarist in Steve Riley and the Mamou Playboys, was killed in a motorcycle accident, prompting a worldwide outpouring of support that according to the Playboys’ bassist-manager Peter Schwarz totaled "about 140" pieces of e-mail "at last count."

"I wanted to let you know," Schwarz wrote, in an open e-letter to the band’s on-line fans, "that I have printed up all your e-mail messages … and placed them in a notebook for the family. Jimmy’s mother … has read through many of them. She told me yesterday, ‘I know he traveled all around the world, but I had no idea that people all over the world liked him so much!’"

Prior to joining Riley’s Playboys, Domengeaux had performed with Warren Storm, Cajun Heat, the Gumbo Cajun Band, and Cheryl Cormier. He’d also been a member of the band Black Dog. "Jimmy was a gifted guitarist and a happy spirit," writes Schwarz. "His smile and his high-voltage solos lit up the stage wherever he played, and his dynamic style was an integral part of our sound. He was also a caring friend and a brother on the road. We speak not only for the band, but also for the music community and fans around the world, in sending our deepest condolences to his family in this sad time. He will be sorely missed."

Domengeaux’s family is establishing a trust fund for his nine-year-old daughter, Javen. Those so inclined may send their inquiries or donations to Murphy Domengeaux, 210 East Bridge Street, Breaux Bridge, LA 70517.

Those concerned about the post-Domengeaux state of Steve Riley and the Mamou Playboys needn’t worry. Although the band did cancel a couple of late-January Florida gigs (one of which was played by Filé as a fund-raiser for the Javen Domengeaux fund), it has already resumed its practically Dylanesque touring. "Obviously, Jimmy would have wanted us to continue," Schwarz writes. "So we’re gonna do his memory honor and keep this thing rolling. We’ve done a bit of rehearsing with several guys and played a few gigs with each. The idea is to keep things simple and relaxed and not make any big decisions too soon. There is no rush to find a permanent replacement."

This columnist would like to suggest a permanent replacement anyway. Whom, you ask? Why, who else but the great Charles "C.C." Adcock? Not only is he one of Louisiana’s most rebel-rousing guitarists, but as his production on the latest Riley-and-the-Playboys album (’98’s Bayou Ruler) shows, he understands both where Riley’s gone and where he’s going. Furthermore, he, Riley, and the Playboys’ David Greeley have already flaunted their secret identity as groove brothers in the Li’l Band of Gold, the Lafayette-based supergroup that, like the Avengers, gets together on occasion to stave off villains (or at least overpriced, mediocre live music). Whaddaya say, huh?

Schwarz wasn’t kidding, by the way, when he said that the Playboys are going to keep this thing rolling. After their eight, mostly Acadiana-area, Mardi-Gras-related February gigs, Riley and Co. have scheduled an eight-gig March (including a three-day engagement in Paris, France, at the Festival Chorus des Hauts-de-Seine), a 10-gig April, a six-gig May, a two-gig June, and a four-gig July. Odds are that they’ll find a way to fill those free dates as well. For the band’s latest tour updates log on to www.rounder.com/mamouplayboys.html or call 318-234-1520. Best of luck, guys….

In less somber news, the aforementioned Filé’s pianist, David Egan, recently had "Wake Up Call," a song that he composed with David Love Lewis and that the British blues legend John Mayall recorded earlier this decade, selected by that same John Mayall for inclusion on Silver Tones, The Best of John Mayall and the Bluesbreakers (on Silvertone Records, get it?). This column will assume that, given Mr. Mayall’s obviously good taste in songwriters, his fondness for the "music" of Alanis Morissette can be passed off as just so much British eccentricity….

Last month, this column teased its many faithful readers along till the end by dropping hints that a full-fledged Willie Tee (nee Trahan) story was about to unfold. Well, here it finally is.

First, Willie Tee (nee Trahan) is not Willie Tee (nee Turbinton), the legendary New Orleans R&B star and composer of "Thank You, John" as made famous by Alex Chilton. Second, Willie Turbinton is black.

Willie Trahan isn’t.

But, you’d never know that he was white, however, from listening to I Believe in My Soul (Gulf Coast Records), Trahan’s first solo LP. "I’ve got a real raspy voice," rasps the 54-year-old swamp-pop veteran from the living room of the cozy New Iberia home.

"Oh, Willie underestimates his voice," says his wife, Gloria. "He thinks he’s got a terrible voice, but he doesn’t."

"I’ve always had a raspy voice," Trahan continues. "Maybe it’s because I smoke three packs of cigarettes a day. That might have something to do with it." He laughs a three-pack-a-day laugh.

"He’s got a deep, warm voice," Gloria insists. "He underestimates his talent."

Gloria’s right. Despite having spent most of his 40-year musical career as a sax-playing sideman in the shadows of such well-known southwest-Louisiana frontmen as Clint West, Tommy McLain, and Warren Storm, the Trahan of I Believe in My Soul sings like a seasoned pro.

His haunting version of Ray Charles’s 1959 classic "I Believe to My Soul," for instance, is masterly. "I sang those vocal tracks over and over," Trahan recalls, laughing again. "Then Rick said, ‘I think you can do better , get back in there and do it again.’ He’s a good producer. He gets it out of you."

"Rick," as longtime readers of this column may recall, is Rick Lagneaux, the keyboard-playing, songwriter-producer who along with Philip Knowlton, another keyboard-playing, songwriter-producer, runs Lafayette’s Gulf Coast Records. Due in large part to their all-around savvy, I Believe in My Soul will strike even Trahan’s longtime fans, those who’ve seen him perform as a member of the Boogie Kings or, most recently, T.K. Hulin’s band, as a revelation. The instrumental support provided by no fewer than two dozen ace Acadiana musicians doesn’t hurt, but it’s Tee’s voice and the authority and sensitivity it conveys that make the album work.

"I can put the feel in it," says Trahan, chuckling. "But to me the sound, the sound isn’t there."

"Oh, yes it is," says Gloria.

"All that gravel, you know? I don’t really like the sound of my voice. I guess not too many singers do."

Such humility is a virtue that comes naturally to most sidemen, and, as this column is all too able to confirm, it’s rare among professional musicians who have as much to brag about as Trahan does. But sometimes one gets the idea that Trahan actually doesn’t know how good he is. He’d much rather discuss how good other people are. (On the New Orleans singer Al Jackson: "He’s 22 years old and sounds just like Fats Domino!")

Trahan may not sound like Fats Domino, but he’s enjoyed his music for as long as he can remember. In fact, he originally I Believe in My Soul to be a Fats Domino-tribute record of sorts. And although the LP turned out to be more eclectic, it still includes a medley of "Blueberry Hill" and "Walking to New Orleans."

It also includes Trahan’s version of "What a Wonderful World," a version that proves Trahan can definitely sound like Louis Armstrong. Not surprisingly, the song is among the most-requested songs in his live repertoire.

Still, it’s as a saxophonist that Trahan is best known. It comes as no surprise, then, that the album’s other stand-out track is "Reedland," a pop-jazz instrumental written specifically for Trahan by Lagneaux. And even though Trahan frets about the song’s radio chances ("Instrumentals aren’t going to get much airplay"), at least one station, KOGT in Orange, Texas, has chosen "Reedland" as its favorite track.

Trahan is quick to point out that the release of I Believe in My Soul has yet to translate into requests for him to perform as a solo act. But if such requests should come in, he believes he can accommodate them. "A lot of the guys on the record said, ‘If you get a band together, don’t forget about me.’"

Trahan is prepared to take them at their word. "If somebody would call me, I’d probably tell them, ‘Yeah,’ and then get the group together and say, ‘Let’s rehearse. We’ve got something coming up….’"

Last but not least this month, congratulations to Warren Storm, Bobby Charles, and Charles Mann on their induction into the Gulf Coast Music Hall of Fame in Port Arthur, Texas. Even bigger congratulations to Storm for not sitting on his laurels. He’s currently at work on the follow-up to his 1997 album Take Me One More Time. So far, there’s no word of a title.

Next month: the great River Babys controversy …!