Despite popular local belief, having been born at Charity Hospital does not make one great. Pumping out bass lines through an instrument as big and beautiful as it is awkward performing with virtually every legendary local brass band, being partly responsible for the brass band revival, and proving oneself a world class musician, however, does. You know Tuba Fats, and even if you don’t, you must have felt his influence in these streets at one unsober point or another. Founding member of the Dirty Dozen Brass Band, Fats’ credits also include gigs with the Olympia, Tuxedo, Gibson, and Doc Paulin bands. Now, backed by an all-star cast including Bob French on drums and Walter Payton on bass, Fats puts out a solo record that is the all-encompassing sound of classic New Orleans.

Fats begins with the ultimate tuba player’s anthem, “Ain’t Got No Home,” originally recorded by Clarence “Frogman” Henry. This well-loved piece tells the tale of a down-and-out street musician with Fats’ deep throaty voice (a sound resembling that of the instrument he blows into) pumping out lines like, “I ain’t got no woman/I ain’t got no horn/I’m just a lonely tuba player/I ain’t got no home.” Fats surprises the listener with his sensitive croon over the slow R & B rhythms of “Welsh Blues,” proving that, though may not have considered it until now, it is nice to hear the tuba man sing.

Aside from Fats’ playing, another outstanding feature here is John Richardson’s glittering piano work. Both versatile and tight (like all of the players you’ll hear on this record), Richardson introduces tracks like “Welsh Blues” with his fingers all up and down the keys, and adds delicate, yet supportive filler on just about every track.

That’s where the versatility comes in. This record leaves few musical stones unturned where New Orleans styles are concerned. Though Fats is a well-traveled, world-class player, his loyalty to the New Orleans tradition holds fast. From the first hints of laughter superimposed over the bouncy intro of “Ain’t Got No Home,” the sounds of old New Orleans ring true and remain for the duration of the record. With favorites like “Tiger Rag,” “Everyday I Have the Blues,” and “Lord Lord Lord,” Fats takes us from Dixieland, to the streets, to church, and everywhere in between. Musically, that is.

It is a rare and risky thing to call an album classic, but in this case, it seems natural. The question here is not, “Is this record great?” but rather, “How could it not be?”