How the Charismatic King of Zydeco Introduced the Music of the Bayou to the Nation

The lively songs and performances of Clifton Chenier, who would have turned 100 today, brought fans—including the Rolling Stones—to their feet

Alicia Ault - Museums Correspondent

June 25, 2025

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On a bright and humid afternoon in early May, Louisiana musicians gathered on the barn-like Fais Do-Do stage at the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival to celebrate royalty: Clifton Chenier, the “King of Zydeco.”

As the musicians—including Chenier’s son, C.J. Chenier—ran through a set list of the elder Chenier’s songs, the audience bobbed their heads and tapped their feet, with big smiles on their faces.

Chenier’s image has been a fixture on the side of the Fais Do-Do stage for years. He was an icon of zydeco music, a bass-and-drum-heavy form led by the accordion that came out of southwest Louisiana’s Creole community.

The all-star tribute—featuring pianist Marcia Ball, slide guitar maestro Sonny Landreth, accordionists Roddie Romero and Curley Taylor, plus members of Los Lobos, among others—was in honor of the centennial of Clifton Chenier’s birth on June 25, 1925.

The mood turned somewhat solemn when C.J. performed his father’s song “I’m Coming Home (To See My Mother),” a mournful bluesy number. Chenier wrote the song for his mother and released it in 1970. She died before she had a chance to hear her son’s love letter.

“It was a song that might bring tears to his eyes,” C.J. says in an interview. “It was always special to him.” Now, it has become special to C.J. “You can tell that song was written straight from the heart,” he says.

C.J. says the celebration of his father is both “about time” and “right on time.”

Born in Opelousas, Louisiana, Chenier started becoming well known in the late 1940s, holding down gigs at local clubs and in East Texas bars, with his older brother, Cleveland, who played the rubboard.

He had his own musical style, playing a big piano-key accordion instead of the more traditional button accordion used by Cajun and zydeco musicians. Chenier also added electric guitars (Landreth played with him in the 1970s and 1980s) and saxophone (with Louisiana native and Philip Glass Ensemble member Dickie Landry occasionally sitting in).

Chenier also had his own distinct look: “conked” hair, flashy suits, gold-capped teeth and, later, in the 1970s, a crown and a cape reflecting his “King of Zydeco” moniker. He died in 1987, at age 62, after his health was ravaged by diabetes and kidney disease. C.J. played “I’m Coming Home (To See My Mother)” at his funeral.

Part of the centennial celebration is Smithsonian Folkways Recordings’ release of a box set covering his music from 1954 to 1983, including some previously unreleased live recordings, in November. Most were made under the Arhoolie Records label, which Folkways acquired in 2016. This is Folkways’ first major re-issue of music from the Arhoolie trove, collected and recorded by musicologist Chris Strachwitz.

Folkways is celebrating Chenier just as it did with box sets of the American folk singers Pete Seeger and Woody Guthrie, says Maureen Loughran, director and curator of Folkways. “It was time to put Clifton in that same pantheon,” she says. The set comes with a 160-page book of photos, posters and other artifacts from the Strachwitz Collection, and liner notes by Grammy award-winning writer Adam Machado, Louisiana journalist Herman Fuselier, and folklorist and radio host Nick Spitzer, as well as a remembrance by C.J. Chenier.

Even zydeco enthusiasts will “be able to enjoy new stories and new perspectives that they may not have known about Clifton’s background, his heritage, his upbringing and how all of that contributes to making him who he was and why he was crowned the ‘King of Zydeco,’” says Loughran.

As a sneak preview of the box set, on June 25, Folkways is releasing a limited-edition 7-inch single (also known as a 45) featuring a 1965 recording of Chenier performing a stripped-down rendition of “Zydeco Sont Pas Salés.” The song—which dates to the mid-1800s—is a lament about poverty, inspired by the expression “les haricots sont pas salés,” translating to “snap beans have no salt.” It was covered many times by Chenier and was his “most influential recording,” writes Michael Tisserand in his 1998 book, The Kingdom of Zydeco.

The flip side of the 7-inch is a brand-new cover of the same tune by the Rolling Stones, sung entirely in Creole French by Mick Jagger. The Stones frontman recalled purchasing a Chenier album in the 1960s during a trip to New York City. The band, devotees of American roots music, frequently sought out live performances by musicians like Chenier.

The single harks back to Chenier’s heyday when his music was produced on 45s and put into jukeboxes, says Loughran. Having the Stones on the disc “raises the profile in spaces that zydeco usually doesn’t find itself, and gets more audiences interested and curious in sounds that they may not have encountered before,” she says.

Accordionist Steve Riley, who leads his own Cajun band, the Mamou Playboys, played on the Stones tune, produced by Louisiana musician C.C. Adcock. Riley never got to see Chenier perform live but learned to play Chenier-style zydeco when he and Adcock formed a group in the early 1990s with former members of Chenier’s band. Chenier’s music was “real soulful and inspiring to me, and I just wanted to learn to play that,” says Riley.

The Stones/Riley version of “Zydeco Sont Pas Salés” also appears on a Chenier centennial tribute album being put out by Eunice, Louisiana-based Valcour Records. That recording features Americana, country and blues artists dueting with active zydeco musicians.

“What Valcour is doing is really great, because they’re able to share the current influence of Clifton,” Loughran says.

Chenier “was so powerful in every way—in songwriting and the way he looked and the way he presented himself. He was one of a kind,” Riley says. He “just encapsulated all that was South Louisiana, you know, the blues, the two-steps, the waltzes, the French, the big personalities that we gravitate to for some reason down here.”

In Tisserand’s view, Chenier came onto the scene at the right time. “If a Black Frenchman with a chromed accordion ever had a chance to make it onto the national charts, it was in the early 1950s,” writes Tisserand. Independent record labels were growing, and “record men” were looking all over the South for up-and-comers to promote, he writes.

Chenier ended up being signed to several labels, including Elko Records, Specialty Records and Chess Records, and he joined national show tours with stars like Little Richard, Chuck Berry and Etta James. His music still contained some Creole French, but he also covered R&B hits, giving them a zydeco twist. Chenier and his fellow musicians faced racism and many indignities as they traveled the nation, but his tours and gigs were a kind of success that the self-described “country boy” had been striving for.

After a rollicking few years, Chenier went back to Louisiana, ready to stay close to home. But things changed when Strachwitz showed up in the 1960s. He started Arhoolie in El Cerrito, California, in 1960, and had gone to Texas to record Lightnin’ Hopkins and other blues artists. Hopkins, who happened to be Chenier’s cousin by marriage, encouraged Strachwitz to go see Chenier. When Strachwitz finally saw him, he was spellbound. The producer invited Chenier to record for him, but the two butted heads when Chenier wanted to play his zydeco versions of R&B hits. Strachwitz’s aim was to record Chenier singing in Creole French.

The two finally came to an understanding and began a fruitful collaboration that would last almost two decades.

During his lifetime, Chenier was recognized for his musicianship and artistry through performances at the Montreux Jazz Festival and the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival. In 1984, he won a Grammy, became a National Heritage Fellow and played at the White House.

But his contribution to the development and dissemination of zydeco has not been comprehensively recognized outside of the folklorists, musicologists and dancers who have always had an abiding appreciation of Chenier as ancestor, artist and ambassador.

“He went out there and brought it all over Europe, all over the United States,” says C.J., adding that his father also inspired a generation of accordion players to do their own thing.

Zydeco music is “not going anywhere,” C.J. says. It’s “always good to make your feet happy.”

“It’s party music,” agrees Loughran. She notes that Chenier’s incorporation of the hits of the day into his music “happens today, too.” Current zydeco artists bring elements of hip-hop and country into their music. “They’re not separated from the culture, but they’re actively pushing the culture forward through all of the influences, and it makes it relevant to younger audiences,” says Loughran.

The “King of Zydeco” may be gone, but C.J. is going to continue to honor his legacy: “I’m the last Chenier out here, so I do my best to make sure people remember.”

Alicia Ault | | Read More

Alicia Ault is an independent journalist whose work has appeared in the New York Times, the Washington Post, Medscape Medical News, WebMD and Wired. She splits her time between St. Petersburg, Florida, Washington, D.C., and New Orleans, exploring the rich variety of food, music, art and culture on offer in those cities.