Oh, When the Saints Go Marching In: A Rhythmic Celebration of Eternal Hope
The classic New Orleans spiritual transformed into a joyous Rock and Roll anthem yearning for a place in heaven’s heavenly parade.
For those of us who came of age during the dawn of rock and roll, the sound of Fats Domino’s rolling, infectious piano was the soundtrack to a new, exhilarating era. Yet, nestled among his chart-toppers and signature rhythm and blues, lies a song with much deeper roots, one he made uniquely his own: “When the Saints Go Marching In.” While the song itself is an old-time spiritual, Fats Domino’s 1959 recording, released on Imperial Records, successfully crossed into the pop landscape of the time, demonstrating the enduring power of New Orleans music. His version reached modest heights on the US Pop charts, peaking at No. 50 on the Billboard chart and No. 40 on the Cash Box chart. This performance wasn’t a fluke; it was a joyous, rollicking collision of gospel tradition and nascent rock and roll energy.
The track’s origin story stretches back far beyond Fats Domino and the Imperial label. “When the Saints Go Marching In” is a traditional Christian hymn, or Black spiritual, with roots tracing back to the late 19th or early 20th century. Its meaning is deeply spiritual and profoundly apocalyptic, drawing its imagery primarily from the Book of Revelation. The lyrics, with their calls for a trumpet blast, the drums beginning to bang, and the faithful marching in, express an earnest and timeless longing to be one of the “number” admitted into Heaven at the time of the Last Judgment or the Resurrection. It is, at its core, an expression of eternal hope—a wish to be saved when the world’s final, glorious parade begins.
In New Orleans, however, the song took on an even more distinctive cultural role. It became synonymous with the city’s legendary Jazz Funerals. In this tradition, a brass band accompanies the mourners. On the solemn procession to the gravesite, the band plays slow, mournful hymns. But on the lively, celebratory “second line” procession away from the cemetery, after the burial, the music shifts to an upbeat, swinging tempo. This transformation, often symbolized by the shift into “The Saints,” represents the belief that the departed soul is now on its way to glory, transcending grief to celebrate eternal life. This tradition is perhaps the truest emotional meaning of the song: a move from sorrow to joy, from the earthbound to the transcendent.
Fats Domino, an icon of New Orleans and a master of the piano, brought this vibrant tradition directly into the rock and roll mainstream. Recorded with his longtime band, featuring the signature horn arrangements by Dave Bartholomew, Fats’s rendition is an uptempo, barrelhouse piano-driven romp. It trades the slow, stately pace of the original spiritual for a rollicking, foot-tapping beat that made it perfect for dance floors, not just church aisles. Yet, the spiritual heart remains. When we hear that bright, distinctive piano and the familiar melody, a rush of nostalgia hits us, not just for the early days of rock, but for a simpler, more hopeful time. It was a song Fats loved and used as a grand finale at his live shows—a tradition he carried with him as he paraded through theaters, mirroring the joyous “second line” back home. It’s a piece of pure Americana, a New Orleans export that, through the sheer warmth and rhythmic genius of Fats Domino, became a global anthem of joy and an eternal wish for a place among the saints. It’s a song about the end of the world that somehow sounds like the happiest party you’ve ever been to.