cheeky I know, but I do mean well

Here's an example of Microsoft's Bing Co-Pilot's ability to revise or
rephrase any text given to it; in other words, improve the text by
making it more concise and/or smoother (and hence quicker) to read.

By the way, if you ask three times for the same text (such as a
paragraph) to be rewritten, you’ll receive three different answers.
This is important to note because on rare occasions, a portion of the
original text might be misinterpreted.

Please note that, in the free version at least, Co-Pilot appears to
limit each question to no more than 2000 characters. Therefore, you
may need to break down your text into smaller segments.

The original much appreciated informative article:
https://www.digitaldreamdoor.com/pages/best_artists-bio/fatsdomino.html

as revised/rephrased by Co-Pilot (free version):
(notepad++ was used to limit line length to 69 characters)

Few names in the history of rock ‘n’ roll loom as large as Fats
Domino. From 1950 to 1963, Domino consistently delivered at least
one Top Twenty-Five hit each year—an unparalleled streak in the
annals of popular music. His career yielded over *110 million
records sold*, and his *85 chart-topping hits* place him just
behind icons like Elvis Presley, James Brown, Ray Charles, and
Aretha Franklin. Only Presley and The Beatles boast more gold
singles than Domino.

Despite these remarkable achievements, Fats Domino is sometimes
overlooked when discussing rock legends. Unlike his contemporaries
Little Richard and Jerry Lee Lewis, whose wild piano performances
exuded musical anarchy, Domino maintained a less controversial
image. His concerts in the 1950s occasionally erupted into
full-scale riots, yet he remained affable and non-threatening.
While Elvis Presley and Jackie Wilson oozed sex appeal, Domino’s
charm was more understated. And unlike James Brown and Ray Charles,
who constantly pushed musical boundaries, Domino adhered to the
same tried-and-true path he set out on at the start of his career.

However, what many fail to recognize is that Domino’s talent
transcended controversy, looks, or radical experimentation. He
didn’t rely on matinee idol status or drastic overhauls to sell
records. Instead, he embodied 1950s rock music through his
consistent songwriting, masterful piano playing, and soulful
singing. The beat-heavy New Orleans sound, deeply rooted in his
hometown, fueled the musical spirit of that era. Antoine Domino
Jr., born and raised in New Orleans, epitomized the essence of rock
‘n’ roll without needing flashy gimmicks—just pure, timeless talent.

Antoine Domino Jr., a native of New Orleans, grew up in a city
where music flowed through the veins of nearly every resident. As a
child, he learned to play the piano under the guidance of his older
brother-in-law—a professional musician. Domino’s talent quickly
blossomed, and during his teenage years, he earned money by
performing locally. In the 1940s New Orleans, musicians could
sustain a livelihood without venturing far beyond the region.
Domino joined the ranks of Crescent City’s local stars, captivating
crowds night after night at the Hideaway Club until fate intervened.

During this era, rhythm and blues music gained popularity after
World War II. Independent record companies sprang up to meet the
demand for music that major labels often overlooked. One such label
was Imperial Records, based in California and run by Lew Chudd.
Despite Los Angeles having its own thriving R&B scene, Chudd
ventured southeast in search of more talent. His journey led him to
Houston, where he witnessed trumpeter and bandleader Dave
Bartholomew perform. Although Bartholomew wasn’t unknown—he had a
few recordings on various labels—he wasn’t signed to any company at
the time. Chudd and Bartholomew struck an agreement: Bartholomew
would scout talent and produce records for Imperial in his native
New Orleans. A few weeks later, when Chudd arrived in New Orleans,
Bartholomew introduced him to the increasingly popular local
sensation, Fats Domino, who was promptly signed.

On December 10, 1949, they entered the studio and made musical
history. Four sides were recorded, including what might be
considered the first true rock ‘n’ roll record: the
autobiographical “The Fat Man.” This track was a reworking of an
old Champion Jack Dupree number called “Junker’s Blues” from 1941.
Released in January 1950, Fats Domino’s debut single became a
massive success, reaching #2 on the Billboard R&B charts and
introducing the country to the unique sounds of New Orleans R&B and
rock and roll.

Over the next five years, Fats Domino achieved over a dozen
national hits. Remarkably, two of these hits crossed over into the
white-dominated pop charts—an achievement considered nearly
impossible at the time. As white teenagers increasingly discovered
this music, its notoriety grew. In 1955, Domino found himself at
the forefront of the rock and roll explosion when his song “Ain’t
It A Shame” became his biggest hit to date, breaking into the Top
Ten on the Pop Charts. Simultaneously, Pat Boone’s sanitized cover
version, titled “Ain’t That A Shame,” soared all the way to Number
One.

Suddenly, Domino had an entirely new audience—unaware of his past
successes but enthusiastic about his every move. His Connecticut
concert, where he was set to headline, had to be canceled due to
fears of teenage riots. He also made cameo appearances on movie
screens in rockploitation films, belting out his latest releases.
Hit after hit followed, sometimes reaching as many as ten or eleven
in a single year. While other rockers of that era faced declining
fortunes due to scandals, changing tastes, or a lack of good
material, Domino continued his successful journey well into the
early 1960s. His commercial achievements during the 1950s ranked
second only to Presley’s.

While critics argue that he rarely strayed from his successful
formula, there’s little credibility to this claim. Fats Domino,
above all others, demonstrated that pop standards could be
seamlessly revived within the rock ‘n’ roll framework. His
rendition of “Blueberry Hill” remains iconic, forever associated
with Domino’s performance. He applied the same magic to other
songs, including tunes by Guy Lombardo and even “My Blue Heaven.”

In the early 1960s, Domino deftly merged his style with country
music, recording a series of Hank Williams songs. Unlike Ray
Charles, whose daring country/R&B fusion drew acclaim, Domino
received scant credit for his own genre-blending efforts. He
effortlessly adapted to the prominence of string arrangements in
rock, as evidenced by his hit “Walking To New Orleans.” Yet, when
the occasion demanded it, he could still deliver pounding boogie
rock ‘n’ roll.

Domino’s easygoing charm and genteel persona allowed him to
sidestep the backlash that plagued rock and roll in the late 1950s.
While other stars faced career downturns due to scandals and radio
blacklistings, Domino’s popularity showed no signs of waning."

In 1962, however, Fats Domino’s contract with Imperial Records
expired, and he received an extravagant offer to sign with
ABC-Paramount Records—a label eager to make its mark in the rock
‘n’ roll scene. Domino made the switch, but unfortunately, his
success took a nosedive. The new producers whisked him away to
Nashville, far from his musical roots and his exceptional band.
They burdened his records with excessive strings and female backup
singers, hoping to make him more appealing to older pop audiences.
However, this move risked alienating his massive rock fanbase.
Despite Domino’s enduring piano skills and powerful vocals, these
qualities were overshadowed by heavy-handed production choices. His
records struggled to climb the charts they once dominated.

Before this situation could be rectified, American rock faced a
seismic shift—the British Invasion—as tastes transformed overnight.
Many of the stars who had initially inspired English rockers found
themselves left behind, including Fats Domino.

By this time, however, Fats Domino had amassed enough wealth and
popularity to sustain himself through royalties and live
performances. Consequently, his output of new recordings dwindled.
In 1968, there was a brief flurry of activity—a “comeback” album
that received acclaim and a minor hit single covering the Beatles’
“Lady Madonna,” a song Paul McCartney had penned as a tribute to
Domino. Unfortunately, this resurgence was short-lived.

Rock fans of that era might have been intrigued to discover that,
holed up in a pink house in upstate New York, Bob Dylan and The
Band jammed together, playing Domino’s classic “Please Don’t Leave
Me.” A few years later, Van Morrison paid homage to the legendary
Fats with his Top Ten hit simply titled “Domino.”

However, as the early 1970s dawned, Fats Domino himself was no
longer actively recording. Instead, he delighted audiences by
performing his old hits during revival tours. Settling into a
regular gig in Las Vegas, he entertained rock fans who had grown up
with his music from the 1950s. His performances remained
incredible, backed by his ever-reliable top-rate band.