My friend "Rockin" Tabby Thomas, who has died aged 84, was one of the last surviving Louisiana blues greats who recorded for the legendary Excello record label. He was a guitarist, pianist, singer, club owner and DJ whose 1961 recording, Hoodoo Party, was a greasy slice of swamp pop, and kicked off a long career in which he pursued a love of blues with evangelical intensity.
In 1979, in a rundown building on North Boulevard, Baton Rouge, Tabby opened the Blues Box, a club that became a much-needed haunt and platform for older bluesmen such as Silas Hogan and Arthur "Guitar" Kelly. It was there in 1987 that we first met, and it is indicative of his warm, generous nature that hardly had I stepped inside than he insisted on hearing me play; it was the beginning of a long and cherished friendship.
Together we worked on his critically acclaimed album King of the Swamp Blues (1988), and two years later Tabby came to Europe for the first of many tours and appearances at major festivals with my band.
Influenced as much by the smooth vocal style of Roy Brown and Lowell Fulson, as by the deep swampy blues of contemporaries such as Slim Harpo, Tabby happily switched between slow ballads and uptempo rocking numbers, the latter serving as a vehicle for his steely guitar playing. Self taught on both piano and guitar – his first piano was a length of cardboard with the keys marked out – Tabby heard his first music on his mother's Victrola record player and at his father's Baptist church in their hometown, Baton Rouge.
Tabby was always searching for the next elusive hit record, and his recording career encompassed most styles of southern soul and rhythm and blues, songs such as Big Leg Woman displaying a wry sense of humour. In later years he received some long-overdue recognition, becoming a regular performer at the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage festival, where I last performed with him and his son Chris Thomas King in 2009.
Tabby was one of the most resilient characters I have ever met. Never bowed down by the bad times and occasional bum gigs, to the end Tabby lived for his music and family.
Tabby was predeceased by his wife, Jocelyn, and a daughter. He is survived by five daughters and two sons, and 20 grandchildren. He always said: "Bluesmen are like giant redwoods, they can quickly be chopped down but take a long time to grow." In Tabby's case it was certainly true.