On a Friday night last October, all was right with the world. Geno Delafose and French Rockin’ Boogie, had just finished raising the roof off Slim’s Y-Ki-Ki, the legendary zydeco dancehall in my hometown of Opelousas.

Delafose and band left their usual magic in the air. My wife Beth and I swore we were too sweaty to keep partying, but the dance floor kept calling us back for one more. We laughed and talked with friends. We danced some more. If heaven’s any better than this, I can’t go. I won’t be able to stand it.

That’s why I was in shock when, on the drive home, Beth announced, “I’m disappointed.” Before I could ask what was wrong, she answered the question. “I didn’t get my kiss from Geno.” (OK, dear. Just wait until I meet Halle Berry. Watch the 21-gun salute I lay on her luscious lips.)

But I’m used to the ramblings of what I call Geno’s Zydeco Ladies, an informal group of admirers who stretch from Los Angeles to Washington, DC. My wife is a card-carrying member.

Like giggling eighth-graders waiting to dance with the quarterback, Geno’s girls line the stage for a goodnight kiss.

Always a gentleman, Geno obliges with a polite peck on the cheek. Delafose has courteous kisses for the ladies the same reason he shakes hands with the men during his breaks—it’s the way he was raised. “With my dad, when we would go on the road, we would just sit and talk,” said Delafose in Michael Tisserand’s excellent book Kingdom of Zydeco. “He would always tell me to go out and talk with the people, because if there’s nobody at your dance, then you have no dance.”

Delafose kept them dancing and socializing at his Fifth Annual Fan Appreciation Party held October 14 at the Northwest Community Center Pavilion in Eunice. The party was originally planned for Delafose’s Double D Ranch in Duralde, located between Eunice and Mamou, but moved to town due to crowd and weather concerns.

The huge, covered pavilion, with its concrete floor, lacked the atmosphere of past parties at Delafose’s ranch, where people dance on the grass, sit on bales on hay and play with horses in the barn. But a good time was still had by more than 500 fans who turned out in the city.

Fans only had to bring liquid refreshments as the Delafose family provided live music and free barbecue dinners with the trimmings. Over a 36-hour period, the Delafoses grilled 400 pounds of meat, peeled 200 pounds of potatoes and boiled 18 dozen eggs for potato salad.

Geno and band provided foot-stomping zydeco, along with guest musicians like Horace Trahan, Russell and Sheryl Cormier, Blake Castille, Goldman Thibodeaux, Miguel Fontenot and Delafose’s nephew, Jeremy Fruge.

Unlike my wife, I will never give Geno a peck on the cheek. But I admit I’m a huge fan of the joy he brings to old songs and new friends. While other young artists continue to turn zydeco into Sisqo with an accordion and LL Cool J on a rubboard, Geno is stubbornly and proudly a traditionalist. Delafose breaks out with blues, country and swing, along with renditions of R&B classics, like “Sweet Soul Music” and “Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch.”

But this black cowboy remains firmly rooted in the Creole and Cajun French music of southwest Louisiana. Delafose, 29, sings in French and knows what he’s saying. His versatile style on the diatonic, triple row and piano accordions adds pep to pooped-out favorites. This Eunice native can’t help but specialize in tradition as he’s the son of legendary accordionist John Delafose. In the 1980s, John Delafose and the Eunice Playboys shaped the zydeco sound with hits like “Joe Pitre a Deux Femmes” (“Joe Pitre Has Two Women”), “Broken-Hearted” and “Outside Woman.”

At the age of 8, Geno was a drummer and rubboard player in his dad’s band. John used to brag how Geno would take over one day. That fate that came to pass in September 1994, when a fatal heart attack claimed John on stage at Richard’s Club in Lawtell. Since then, Geno spends more than 200 dates a year playing clubs, festivals and theaters, even an annual zydeco cruise of the Caribbean.

Sticking to his traditional guns has cost Delafose some local fans, who prefer the limited chants and riffs of nouveau zydeco. I’ve been to some local Delafose dances where the club was as empty as Gospel Night at Studio 54. I’ve also been to a Delafose throwdown in Washington, D.C. where more than 300 paid $20 per person to attend and refused to stop dancing. (Geno returned to D.C. a week later to a larger hall where 1,200 were waiting.)

Thankfully, Delafose’s fan base at home has grown in the last two years. Many of those hometown fans, as well as lots of travelers, were present at Delafose’s fan party. They were as much fun as the music and food.

The guests included Möise and Alida Viator, a teenage brother and sister act working on a follow-up to their innovative CD, Mo Belle Creole, on Acadiana Records. This talented duo plays Cajun, zydeco, New Orleans Creole, jazz and other sounds not normally associated with southwest Louisiana music. Jim Phillips, a.k.a. Crazy Gator, was there keeping the dance floor hot as usual. Phillips, an interactive software developer from California, recently moved to Opelousas for one reason—his love of zydeco. Phillips has even built a number of Internet sites for Cajun and zydeco artists.

Jim Smith traveled all the way from Tulsa, Oklahoma, just to be at Geno’s party. Smith loves Louisiana music and culture so much that his restaurant business is called Mamou Barbecue. Smith was a guiding force behind a recent Cajun Festival in Tulsa. Participating sponsors sold three times the merchandise they had anticipated. They’re knocking down Smith’s door to get in on next year’s festival.

The food, fun and fellowship at Geno’s Fan Appreciation Party always makes this event a highlight of my year. This annual event costs him thousands of dollars and countless hours of preparation, but Geno feels he must give back to the people.

Some zydeco bands, who have made small fortunes just playing the crawfish circuit between New Orleans and Houston, wouldn’t dream of giving back to the fans. They forget it’s those fans who have paid for their $2,000 accordions and shiny Suburbans with matching his-and-her cell phones.

But Geno believes in giving back because that’s the way he was raised by his parents John and Jo Ann. Thanks Geno for another wonderful time. Get ready for the blessings that are in store for you.

Did my wife get her kiss at Geno’s fan party? No. But I just know she’ll make up for it next time.

(Contact Herman Fuselier by email at [email protected]. or visit his Bayou Boogie page at www.bayoubeat.com).