POP MUSIC REVIEW : C. J. Chenier Fills Some Big Shoes at the Music Machine

The late Clifton Chenier sometimes donned a gaudy crown when he performed on stage, making like an Imperial Margarine commercial to emphasize his position as the king of zydeco, the spirited mix of R&B; and Cajun folk music that has enjoyed a surge in popularity over the past year.

But Chenier’s son, C. J. Chenier, wanted no part of that as he prepared to make his debut leading his father’s Red Hot Louisiana Band at the Music Machine on Friday.

“The crown was his--it’s not something to be handed down,” Chenier, 30, insisted as he waited backstage. “It won’t fit any head but his.”

And as he waited, he worried about the expectations held by the people who were coming to see the show.

“They don’t realize how big the shoes are they want me to fill,” he said a bit nervously. “Those are big shoes for my little feet.”

When Chenier took the stage for his first local appearance as the leader of the Lafayette, La.-based band, it was clear that he has one advantage over Julian Lennon and Ziggy Marley, two other young artists grappling with legendary legacies: C. J. bears only a passing physical and vocal resemblance to his father, who died in December at age 62 from kidney failure and complications from diabetes.

But C. J. didn’t exactly steer clear of comparisons, either. Playing his father’s accordion--the name Clifton Chenier is inlaid in big letters on its front--in a set composed largely of songs associated with his father, he stepped squarely into a perilous situation.

Before the show, C. J.’s 61-year-old uncle, Cleveland, whose corrugated metal rub-board has been as much a part of the Chenier sound as Clifton’s accordion, stated the problem: “If he plays like Clifton, people will say he’s just a copy. And if he doesn’t, people will be mad because he doesn’t sound like Clifton.”

But by the time the first of the evening’s two shows had ended 80 minutes later, C. J. had not only served the memory of his father well, but had established himself as a warm and talented performer in his own right.

C. J. is not the innovator that his father was, at least at this stage, and on songs like “Calinda” and snappy zydeco dance numbers like “Louisiana Two Step” that were standards of Clifton’s repertoire, he stuck pretty much to his father’s arrangements.

Having taken up accordion only five years ago after his increasingly ill father requested that he prepare to take over for him (he had joined the band on saxophone four years before that), he may not have Clifton’s flair or facility, but his playing proved accomplished.

And the truth is, C. J. is a better singer that Clifton was (though perhaps not as distinctive, without his father’s Cajun accent), excelling on searing R & B ballads like “Release Me” and “I’m Coming Home,” which he identified as his father’s favorite song.

And the band seems to lack no confidence in the young Chenier. With Cleveland beating and scraping his metal apron to set the pace, the band swung, rocked and shuffled with might and finesse.

Whether C. J. will someday develop into a performer who can stand completely on his own, apart from his father’s legacy, is unclear at this point. For now, though, his personal goal is clear.

“I’ll try my best to keep the Red Hots going,” he said backstage. “I want to make sure no one forgets Clifton Chenier. That’s what it’s all about.”