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Elvis
Presley: A Visit to Graceland (1997 Reprint)
This article was originally published in
a glossy magazine titled A Tribute to
Elvis: 20th Anniversary Special!, by C To C Publishing, Inc. Note that there
is no advertising on this blog, so there is no profit to be made by my republishing
it, other than publicity for myself and the original printing organization. The
article appeared on pages 78-81. Note that all values are, obviously, in 1997
USD. I have made some minor edits.
While I found it odd that the “Special”
was for the 20-year anniversary of his death, rather than his birth or career,
it was a fun piece to write. As everyone probably knows, Graceland is in
Memphis, TN. This article was assigned to me by the the magazine's editor, my good friend and rock writer, Mary Anne Cassata.
In the 20 years since Elvis Presley
went to his “ranch in the sky” – his home, Graceland, has probably become as
popular as he was, and nearly as profitable. With an average of 700,000
visitors per year, Graceland has achieved the status of the second most
recognized national home, following the White House. Located in a commercial
district, Graceland is a patch of residential splendor surrounded by strip
malls, motels, gas stations, fast food chains, and of course, plenty of gift
shops, all of which are Elvis-laden.
Graceland is a 14-acre haven on a
hill, where both the loyal and the curious come to respectfully meet over Elvis’
gravesite, and to see how he lived. One arrives at 3764 Elvis Presley Boulevard
by parking in a lot across the street from the stately manor (a $2 donation is required).
Here, Visitors can choose from a number of options for viewing Graceland, 362
days a year.
The main option is the Mansion Tour
(Adults $10, Seniors $9, Children 7-12 $5, and under 6 free). One can visit the
gift shops while waiting for the tour to start. Guests can later board a
shuttle bus (which departs every 5 minutes) that takes them across the street.
With their headsets on, this is where the guided tour starts. The taped tour,
which was started in 1995, includes comments by Elvis, Priscilla, various
people who knew him, as well as lots of Elvis’ music.
Once across Elvis Presley Boulevard,
the bus passes the famous music notes front gates and drives onto Graceland property,
up the grass-lined rolling driveway straight to the front porch. Visitors enter
the mansion by the front door where a tour guide is in every room that’s open
to the public to answer questions (the upper floors which contain the bedrooms
are excluded; one of Elvis’ aunts lives upstairs).
Off to the right, through a glass
archway lies the music room with a grand piano and a television set (there are
plenty of television sets throughout the house). Directly ahead is the
off-limits glass-lined staircase, above which hangs a lovely portrait of
pre-army Elvis. Opposite is a large dining room, big enough for Elvis’ whole
family and his entourage. The décor on this floor is elegant, and yet at the
same time very comfortable. Also one can view the huge carpeted functional kitchen
filled with appliances. This was where Elvis met with friends and associates,
possibly over fried banana sandwiches.
The tour becomes even more fun when
visitors go down the multi-mirrored staircase to the basement, which was the recreation
area for the Presley clan. At the bottom of the staircase is a large, L-shaped
leather couch. Opposite are three televisions; Elvis liked to watch them all at
the same time. The décor is in black and yellow, with mirrors on the ceiling.
There is also a stereo system and a full bar, stools included.
Past the bar area is the pool room
with a full regulation table and a few well-cushioned chairs. This leads to the
infamous “jungle” room, which contains couches, a large cozy chair, an odd-shaped
wooden table, a few odd knick-knacks, and a working waterfall.
Once outside the Graceland mansion,
the tour continues into an office which handles the enormous fan mail. Here a
film is shown of a press conference Elvis held after his stint in the army.
Following a walk past the swimming pool, racquetball court, firing range, horse
pasture, and a work-out room, visitors are then ushered into a special building
which houses Elvis’ trophies and other memorabilia. Here one can view his numerous
gold records, portraits, jumpsuits, guitars, posters, and other assorted Elvis-related
material.
As visitors leave the building – a
mere 30 paces away is the Meditation Garden, the final resting place for Elvis,
his mother Gladys, his father Vernon, and Vernon’s mother Minnie May. This is
by far the most somber part of the tour. Flowers and remembrances are brought
by fans to the site on a daily basis.
After a quick shuttle ride and collection
of the headsets, visitors are deposited back at the parking lot across the street.
While this part of the tour ends, there are other tours where one leaves the
bus. First, there is the Elvis Presley Automobile Museum (Adults $5, Seniors
$4.50, Children 7-12 $2.50). Many of Elvis’ cars, motorcycles, and three-wheel “supercycles”
are here, including the infamous 1955 pink Cadillac he gave his mother. There
is also a video shown while visitors sit in a re-creation of a 1950’s style
drive in.
At the north end of the Plaza is the
Airplane Tour (Adults, $5, Seniors $4, Children 7-12 $2.75), which is located
in a replicated airport terminal that shows a video of the historic Elvis planes.
The tour includes two of Elvis’ planes: the Hound Dog II Lockheed Jetstar and
the Lisa Marie Jet, which visitors are permitted to walk through.
The last paid tour is called Sincerely
Elvis (Adults $3.50, Seniors $3.15, Children 7-12 $2.75), where one can view such
personal items as candid photos, home movies, furnishings, mementos, and many other
off-stage Elvis memorabilia.
If visitors are interested in viewing
all the museums, there is a bargain Platinum Tour Package, which includes all
the attractions (Adults $18.50, Seniors $16.50, Children 7-17 $11).
Though there is no doubt that Elvis
has become a business after his death, Graceland is a suitable icon for a
cultural phenomenon – one that may never be seen again. Everyone is welcome to
share what Elvis was – “Poor boys and pilgrims with families… are going to
Graceland,” as Paul Simon said. So what are you waiting for?
Note: 2020 prices for the Platinum
Tour: Adults $69, Seniors $62.70, Children 5-10 $38 – RBF.
This article/interview was originally printed in FFanzeen, issue #5, dated 1985, by music Renaissance man, Gary Pig Gold.
If you grew up in the early punk movement anywhere around the Toronto / Mississauga / Hamilton (Ontario) hub, you knew who Gary Pig Gold was / is, and his fanzine, The Pig Paper. Gary is not only a writer, but also produces records and was/is a musician in such bands as The Loved Ones, Ghost Rockets, Dave Rave Conspiracy and most recently The Next Big Thing alongside his old pal from The Cheepskates, Shane Faubert. I have the pleasure to call him my friend, even though we don’t get the chance to hang out much lately, being 2000 miles apart.
Through the later years of FFanzeen, Gary had his own column called "Pigshit," which also ran in many other zines worldwide and still appears monthly online. I've long-stated that Gary is one of the better writers of rock history, especially about his own favorites such as the Beach boys, the Monkees, Paul Revere and the Raiders, and Elvis. His work at this moment appears alongside an all-star cast of musicians and movers in Harvey Kubernik's massive 1967: A Complete Rock Music History of the Summer of Love book from Sterling Publishing. Definitely check out more of his writing at https://www.rocksbackpages.com/Library/Writer/gary-pig-gold. - Robert Barry Francos, 2017.
As much as we’d love to forever blot
it from our ears, there was music
being produced, released and even broadcast during the post-Creedence,
pre-Ramones wasteland known today as the mid-1970s. Like many other now forms
of pure pop, I filled those dreaded years backtracking thru pop’s past via the
neighbourhood Kmart cut-out bins, and today sport an entire bedroom covered in
milk crates full of albums ($1.90 or less!) with holes drilled thru the
covers to show for my efforts… (Well, it was either that or spend circa ’71-’75
watching “Don Kirshner’s Rock Concert” and lining up for Who tickets…)
But suddenly one day, a song appeared
which effectively jolted me out of my Delete Zone exile and hinted that
perhaps, just perhaps, there was
still intelligent life left in the music bizness: a hook-studded gem, which
effortlessly rode up the charts atop a bedtrack cocky enough to spare it from a
fate worse than Manilow (sorry ABBA). The song in question? “I’m On Fire,” by
someone – or something- called The
Dwight Twilley Band. Sure, I was a fan of the Hollies-Revisited strains of
(The) Raspberries, not to mention the bozo-rock of the N.Y. Dolls, but Twilley’s
ditty made an impression for reasons other than nostalgia or camp: it was the
first evidence in godknowshowlong of
that elusive creature known as The Perfect Hit Single. Imagine my jubilation
when, after rushing to my local disc shop for the first time since the Raiders
broke up, I discovered an entire album
of Twilley in the racks – his classic debut LP Sincerely. Listening to this stunner today is akin to takin’ a
crash-course in trends-to-come: the cheesy electropop of “Could Be Love,” the
Edmunds-as-Spector lush of “You Were So Warm,” the mop-topped Rutle-rock of “Three
Persons.” Even the suede-o crockabilly of “TV.” Could it be at all possible that the likes of Martin
Rushent [d. 2011 – RBF], Nick Lowe,
Dougie Fieger [of The Knack, d. 2010 -
RBF] and Brian Setzer never heard and duly absorbed this record prior to
launching their own assaults upon the Top 40? I sincerely doubt it.
Several years and one New Wave later
(Dec. ’79 to be exact), I found myself in Southern California for my first of
several hunts for the ghost of Brian Wilson. It was then and there that I
chanced upon a surprise Twilley gig at the scenic Golden Bear club in scenic
Huntington Beach (where, speaking of the ‘60s, Peter Tork was once employed as
a dishwasher). By this point, Dwight had already lost one record company (Shelter,
due to bankruptcy), one record contract (with Arista, due to the lackluster sales
of his smash second album, Twilley Don’t
Mind), and even one-half of his band (when his long-time cohort, Phil
Seymour, buggered off for a short-lived career as Orange County’s answer to
Shaun Cassidy). Not surprisingly, the show that night was a slick, bitter affair
– it seemed Twilley spent most of his set screaming at the soundman for “more
fuckin’ Elvis Sun Sessions reverb on my fuckin’ mike.” Afterwards, I crawled
back to my motel room mightily disillusioned as Dwight spent the next several
years slowly burying himself beneath the scrap heap of
Next-Big-Things-From-L.A. alongside the likes of The Loved Ones (thanks for the
plug, Robert Barry! – GPG 1985), 20/20 and The Plimsouls (whilst nurturing a
quite unhealthy SCUBA diver fetish).
I was probably as shocked as Mr.
Twilley himself when last summer, he released a bitchin’ new platter entitled Jungle, which came complete with a
single smasheroo of even ultra-“I’m On Fire” proportions (the lethally-catchy “Girls”).
And once again, as if on some sort of cosmic cue, I found myself in scenic
Vancouver stumbling one night upon, in the far-from
scenic Nite Lites club, another surprise
Dwight Twilley gig! Bluffing myself onto the guest list as West Coast stringer
for FFanzeen (“FFanzeen?” “Oh, yeah, it’s a very
big mag back East – sorta like Circus…”)
and bluffing my mini-recorder past the bouncer in true Rock ‘n’ Roll High School style (…“It’s a hearing aid, okay?”), I sat thru one of the most sweaty sets of
sounds since Destroy All Monsters opened for The Young Fresh Fellows – with just the right amount of reverb on the
mike! Afterwards, what else could I do but BS my way backstage (“FFanzeen?” “Yeah – it’s gonna take up
where Trouser Press left off…”) to
interview The Man Himself.
Dwight Twilley? Can I have a few words?
Oh… just a couple, okay? We’re on our
way back to the room to watch some old Elvis videos…
I last saw you perform five years ago in California, and the improvement
since then seems practically incomprehensible!
Well, we’re touring more nowadays,
and I’ve got a better band nowadays. Plus, back then, I could never get enough
reverb on the mike.
Yes, I know. Also, “Girls” I think is your strongest song in ages.
However… I can’t help but detect the ghost of Brian Wilson running through it.
Oh? How’s that?
The riff in “Girls” sounds exactly like the riff
in “Dance, Dance, Dance”!
Yeah? Well, I think The Beach Boys suck!
Hmm… Who do you think you’ve been influenced by?
Elvis.
Uh-huh. And who else?
Scotty and Bill.
Elvis’ guitarist and bass player?
You bet.
Who else besides Elvis do you admire musically?
(Extended silent pause)
I see.
What magazine’d you say this was for?
FFanzeen
(Blank stare)
It’s sort of like the vintage old New York Rocker was
back in its heyday. You remember New York Rocker, don’t you?
Nope.
Anyways… Whatever became of your old partner, Phil Seymour?
Not a hell of a lot! (Laughs) I think the only time he works
now is when I let him sing a spot or two on my records. Phil missed his
calling, you see, when ABC refused to cast him alongside Parker Stevenson in “The
Hardy Boys” TV series. I’m afraid it’s been all downhill for ol’ Phil ever
since.
Your band seems to be getting along real fine without him.
Yeah… but something’s lacking in our
rhythm section, I think.
Who would be your ideal drummer then?
D.J. Fontana.
Elvis’ drummer.
You bet.
Not to change the subject any, but who would you consider to be your idea
girl?
Hmm… Probably a cross between Natalie
Wood and Ann-Margret. [PIGOSSIP #1:
Dwight is actually married to none other than Susie Cowsill – she of “Indian
Lake” and “The Rain, The Park and Other Things” fame – GPG, 1985]
How about your favorite food?
Hey! What is this? I thought you were
from Fan Scene [sic – 1985], not Tiger Beat! Uhh… favorite food… Fried
peanut butter and banana sandwiches. And cheeseburgers – double cheeseburgers – on the road.
What’s the one song you’re most proud of?
Oh… “Don’t Be Cruel.”
No, no… I mean of your own!
Well, that’s a pretty tough one… I’d
like to think Scuba Divers is my
strongest album overall, as well as being my all-time poorest seller (smirk). You see, each of my records has
its own set of circumstances and stories… and
lawsuits… and nervous disorders…
behind it. I mean, if it’s true that artistes create best under bleak and difficult
conditions, then I should’ve had fifty
Number One albums out by now! But, uhh, if I had to pick one single favorite
song, I guess it would have to be “10,000 American Scuba Divers Dancin’.” How
about you?
Without a doubt, my favorite would still have to be “I’m On Fire.”
Elvis Found Alive Directed and Produced by Joel Gilbert Highway 61 Entertainment, 2012 128 minutes, USD $14.95 Highway61ent.com Elvisfoundalive.com MVDvisual.com
Taking an opposite tack this time, Joel Gilbert, who brought you the amusing yet well researched Paul McCartney Is Really Dead is back with Elvis Found Alive.
The premise is set up after Gilbert visits Graceland on a vacation, Joel and his audio/video crew (who we meet and act pretty stiffly, obviously not professional actors) send off for Elvis’ file from the US government via the Freedom of Information Act. But when the package arrives in 2012 (I received this DVD in 2011, FYI), the ink on the redacted parts are still wet (!) enough for them to clean off some of it, and find out that Elvis is not only alive, but living in the Simi Valley of California, just a few miles away from Gilbert’s studio, under witness protection, using his infamous “hotel registry name” of Jon Burrows! (Actually, just about every sentence in this review probably deserves an exclamation point, so just add it wherever you think it’s needed.)
Grabbing Elvis co-star Celeste Yarnall (from his 1968 film, Live a Little, Love a Little), they go out to pay him a visit. In front of the suspected house is a 1957 Caddy with numerous Republican presidential bumper stickers, including Nixon (is the one), Reagan, Bush (both), and Dole. The back seat has a stack of Elvis 8-Tracks (hahaha). It just gets better and better (not meant sarcastically in any way).
Gilbert talks to someone at the house’s front door while mic’d – his crew starts to freak out because they recognize the voice – and ask if it’s okay to interview him. Let me say right here and now that whomever mimicked the voice did a truly splendid job, even though “Elvis” (I’m leaving out the quote marks on the name and the pronoun “his” after this) sounds just like he did in the ‘70s. Elvis agrees, and the crew comes inside, including Yarnall, who is wearing a cap and stands in the background. Elvis is lit so we cannot see his face at all, which is more likely due to adding the vocal in a studio later. He sits and plays with his rings, as Elvis was – er – is known to do.
As with the Paul-is-Dead documentary, what follows is actually a very meticulously detailed history of Elvis, through his own words in 2012. The chapters are broken down into sections by dates and events (listed below). Except for some biting comments about the Colonel, most of the first half of the story is mostly researched knowledge, such as his deep devotion to his mom, his rise to fame, and his career. But there are also some interesting speculations to keep the viewer on her or his toes, such as Elvis being forced into the Army because the government was afraid that Jailhouse Rock promoted homosexuality (e.g., “No. 47 said to No. 3 / You’re the cutest jailbird I ever did see” – Ed.). Another is after the army, Elvis is introduced to the Vegas mob by Sinatra, and Sammy Davis Jr. privately tells him to am-scray for his own good; apparently the only reason Presley would ever play the town is to pay back huge gambling debts owed by the Colonel.
Further, the reason he married Priscilla is because Ann-Margret (“the female me,” 2012 Elvis states) turned him down. A fun comment though is “The only thing worse than watching a bad movie is being in one.” And Elvis definitely had his share of them, thank is large part to the Colonel’s misguided direction (though I remember hearing a quote at some time that Elvis wanted to be like Dean Martin).
As the lame – and yes, they were – films drag down his career (though Jailhouse Rock and Viva Las Vegas - especially for the “female me” - are still watchable for me), he tried to resurrect his career with “The Ghetto” and “Suspicious Mind.” However, there was trouble brewing in America that concerned Elvis to the core: the Weathermen Underground and the Mafia were controlling the kids through drugs, and Elvis wanted to put a stop to it, so he famously contacted Prez Nixon and asked to be a officer in the Drug Enforcement Agency (DEA). Rather, Nixon sent him a badge (Elvis collected police badges, which are on display in Graceland) naming him an honorary agent for the “Bureau of Narcotics and Dangerous Drugs.” And here is where this film starts to interestingly invent history (supposedly…). For the purposes of this story, he actually was made an undercover Marshall, and with the help of the Memphis Mafia (his ironically named posse), he helped bring down the Weathermen Underground and subsequently the Mafia by using hidden and elaborate stings so that they didn’t connect it to him.
Gilbert asks Elvis, “Are you saying the man who invented cool wanted to be a narc?” Elvis calmly answers, “I felt God wanted to use me in a much more important way.”
Another interesting turn of events has Elvis using Bob Dylan (see, I really should be using a lot more exclamation points) to introduce him to mobster Joey Gallo, leading to the latter’s hit. With wiretaps overhearing of Elvis’ Memphis Mafia being suspect, he fires them all (with their blessing) to protect them; but of course, Presley is also suspect.
Here comes the plan to protect his own life by faking his death, and then going into the witness protection program where he worked as a hotel clerk in Kalamazoo, Michigan (one of the famous “Elvis sightings”).
An amusing side-story is the Mafia telling Dylan he better “find Jesus” after Gallo’s assassination, meaning keeping his nose clean, as it were, Dylan misunderstands and pretends to become a born-again Christian. When he learns what was really meant, he goes back to Judaism. Hahaha, that is such a nice touch!
Gilbert researches this tale well, and includes bits about Gail Brewer-Giorgio’s book Is Elvis Alive? and a Bill Bixby-hosted speculative television special on the subject.
Being that 2012 Elvis is a big Reagan fan (“He had strong American principles”), there is a great PhotoShop’d picture of a graying Elvis with Big Ronnie, and also completely gray with Bill Clinton (it is posited here that Chinese spies tapped Bill’s phone and learned about Monica, which is why Clinton gave them Most Favored Nations status; oh, and Elvis also states that “everyone killed JFK”). But it stops there, because Elvis apparently is not an Obama fan because of his connection to ex-Weather Underground leader Bill Ayres (“Both hate American values”; Little Georgie W. Bush did? But I digress…)
One of the more imaginative aspects to this pseudo-documentary (again, meant kindly) is director Gilbert’s use of the Capt. Marvel Jr. comic books as a thread throughout the entire film. He uses panels that so closely represents Presley’s life, it really is almost like it was based on Presley. It’s known Elvis was a fan of the comic (there are photos of him reading it, and there are stacks in Graceland today that were Elvis’ property; shame they couldn’t work Stan Lee into this…). This theme also used as expressing throughout how much Elvis thought he resembled Marvel Jr., how both Priscilla and Ann-Margret looked like the Marvel’s sister, Ann Marvel (kinda creepy), and how Elvis’ arch-enemy Bill Ayres resembles the villain of the comic, Capt. Nazi.
There is a touching moment as Elvis and Yarnall, someone refers to as “the one that got away,” are reunited. Wonder what her husband thinks about that, I ask bemusedly.
So not only is Elvis Presley alive, but he’s back. There is a new CD by “Jon Burrows” available with some of his old songs redone and rearranged, and some new tunes as well, such as “Lisa Marie” (which also has a music video on the DVD).
Believe me, I’m only skimming the surface on what is presented here. The stories are incredibly imaginative, and as one who is not engulfed in Elvismania I’m sure there’s some stuff I’m missing. And yet, this was a fun ride from beginning to end. Sure, it could have been trimmed probably by about 20 minutes rather than its over two-hour running time, but this is definitely for not just Elvis fans, but anyone who is into rock’n’roll history or just the mysteries of the 1960s counterculture.
I sure do look forward to see what’s next for Joel Gilbert and his crew.
Chapters: Part 1: 1935-1955 – Captain Marvel Jr. Origins Part 2: 1956-1958 – Elvis the Pelvis Part 3: 1959-1960 – US Army Intervention Part 4: 1961-1967 – Hollywood Shlock Formula Part 5: 1968-1969 – America Under Siege Part 6: 1970 – Federal Drug Enforcement Agent Part 7: 1971-1974 – Fighting the Weather Underground Part 8: 1975-1976 – Battling the Mafia Part 9: 1977 – Fake Death Plot Part 10: 1978-1979 – Witness Protection Program Part 11: 1980-2004 – The Struggle to Return Part 12: 2005-2001 – The Obama-Weathermen Nexus Part 12: 2012 – Elvis is Back
The closest I ever came to seeing Rank and File live was on a punk-related Rock Palace television program, sharing the bill with the likes of the Circle Jerks. They did two amazing songs, “Amanda Ruth” and “Hot Wind” (which I still have on VHS somewhere, and I that have attached below). My pal, Steve Adams, who colleged in Austin, used to go see the band during its heyday, and remains a fan.
According to Wikipedia, after the break-up of R&F, Chip and Tony Kinman started the drum-machine-based synthpop band Blackbird, and Alejandro Escovedo joined with his brother Javier to form True Believers, before going solo.
But recently Rank and File have reformed and toured, so who knows what’s next.
PS, I love Gary’s Canadiana take on this, including calling mac’’n’ cheese “Kraft Dinner,” and uncertainty about the Mason-Dixon line: north of it was mostly Slave free, south of it had slavery, starting on the north Virginia state line, and running east to west; it was “dismantled” after the Civil War, though I’m guessing Gary must know that all these years later.
Note that despite my teasing, Gary is truly among my favorite rock writers, and has been since the days of his own fanzine, The Pig Paper (all issues of which can be found online here: https://www.rocksbackpages.com/Library/Writer/gary-pig-gold)… – RBF, 2011 .
“They sound like a cross between Buck Owens and the Ramones!”
”Watching Chip Kinman on stage is just like watching Gary Busey in The Buddy Holly Story.”
“I have a funny feeling I’m witnessing the birth of something amazing.”
Oh, my God!”
On Saturday, April 2, 1983, Rank and File brought heir unique interpretation of The American Sound to the ratty Radio City club, deep within the bowels of the bed-washbasin-and-surfboard suburb of L.A. known as Anaheim, California (right down the road from Disneyland!). Quoted verbatim above are but four of the many observations I solicited from the preppies, punkies, and poseurs of all persuasions who stood spellbound as Rank and File recreated – in fact, incarnated – their groundbreaking Sundown LP atop the creaky Radio City stage. By the end of their 45-minute set, as the audience’s bewilderment had graduated form half-hearted slam-dancing to sub-Hee Haw-style hoots ‘n’ hollers, I couldn’t help but imagine that this must’ve been just like it would have been to see Elvis, Scotty and Bill playing around the Memphis trucker bars and parking lots 30 years ago! Hell – maybe we are witnessing The Birth of Something Amazing.
”We had to do a lot of growing up in order to get where we are today…” – Chip Kinman: guitar, vocals, harmonica and Buddy Busey imitations.
”…and play what we are today.” – Tony Kinman: vocals and authentic Bonanza headwear.
”…and I’m just the drummer.” – Slim Evans: just drums.
”I agree.” – Alejandro Escovedo: guitar, vocals, and grinning Spanish teen appeal.
To make a sob story short, the Kinman brothers woke up one day near San Francisco during the Summer of Hate to find themselves, as one half of the infamous Dils, bonafide yet reluctant stars of the local blank generation. Much soul-searching ensued, which quickly lead to (as is vividly recounted on Sundown’s strongest cut, “I Went Walking”) the break-up of the Dils, a sabbatical to NYC’s St. Mark’s Place, a damnation of the their NeWave era in general, and ultimately, a pilgrimage to the Deep South to bask in the comparatively calming sounds and smells of the Great American Heartland. To this day, they call Austin, Texas “home.”
Suddenly, Chip and Tony had traded in their trendy Sears Silvertones for authentic Fender gear, unearthed in Slim Evans one of the finest skinmen this side of D.J. Fontana, sent for their old Bay Area sidekick Alejandro to round out the quartet, and faster than you can say Get Rhythm!, this renegade combo were tearing up every truckstop, lounge, and even punk palace south of the Mason-Dixon line. (Which reminds me: where in hell is the Mason-Dixon line anyways?) Like the good ol’ boys they now were, they lived on Lone Star Beer and Kraft Dinner ‘til they had enough saved up to buy a station wagon with which to return west to the Promised Land where, during the fall of ’82, they blew a much-needed breath of fresh prairie air into the spandex’d El Lay music scene.
Soon, our heroes found themselves back in ‘Frisco, laying down tracks for their first Slash Records album – an LP, which no less than Robert Hillburn, the West Coast’s very own Robert Christgau, proclaimed as “one of the strongest American debut records in a decade.” In fact, Mr. Hillburn found himself so totally enamored with Sundown that he had 10 copies send air express! to the Man in Black hisself, Johnny Cash, and then urged his VIP pals at Warner Bros. that they’d better pick up this platter, fast, if they knew what was good for ‘em. As a result, you can now find Rank and File proudly displayed in your local discery, right alongside the new Duran Duran… or George Jones… or Journey…
And herein we arrive at the primary dilemma which could very well prevent Rank and File from claiming their rightful place atop several of Billboard’s Hot Hit charts: just what is Rank and File? Country? Pop? New Wave? Mockabilly? Well, I for one chose (e) All of the Above, coz in Sundown, I can hear at any given moment the twang of a Link Wray, the hooks of a Goffin-King, the lyrical wit of a Nick Lowe, and the harmonies of the brothers Louvin and Everly. Yet the blend is far from nostalgic or regurgitent: the Kinman’s compositions sound somehow Fresh, New, Current, and Vital. Just like that other great American rock phenomenon, Creedence Clearwater Revival sounded a dozen years ago, remember?
But unlike the Hey!days of CCR, U.S. radio today just isn’t as ignorantly open to the fresh, new, current or vital – sure, “Do You Really Want to Hurt Me” went Top Ten, but only by initial packaging it in a blank sleeve, if y’know what I mean. Consequently, I often find myself awakening at 3 a.m. in a cold sweat, fearful that Rank and File’s potential as Divine Saviors of U.S. Music (sorry folks – I’m on my soapbox again) might be irreversibly nixed in the bud. Jesus Christ! These guys could fuckin’ revolutionize what we now blindly accept as C&W; they could be the Sex Pistols to the Kenny Rogers and Barbara Mandrells who now effortlessly and offensively rule the majority of this nation’s jukeboxes, airwaves, and music award ballots. Given half a chance, Sundown could shake things up one helluva lot more than an entire army of Dils ever could!
Okay – I worry about such things. Maybe you do too. But does Tony Kinman? “Nah,” he informed me between rounds at the Radio City bar. “Every band me ‘n Chip have been in has, uh, Made It to some extent. But, you know – so what? The success part of things is really outta our hands for the most part. It’s managers and record companies who have to worry about that stuff. And the people out there really decide in the long run how big a band can be, and for how long.”
But Holy Cow, Tony! Doesn’t it bug you guys that if it wasn’t for the Casey Kasems and the Kal Rudmans of the world, Rank and File could very well be that exclusive Next Big Thing we’ve all be waiting breathlessly for?!!, I scream out. Tony’s long, low, all-knowing laugh is my only reply. But it’s his alter-ego, Chip, who leaves me with this final, all-encompassing, concluding profundity before leaping back on stage for the second set:
“Success? All I care about is what key we’re gonna do ‘White Lightening’ in tonight!”
And There You Have It: the saga of a relatively new band busy brewing right under your very noses. Looking for musical kicks in the ‘Eighties? No need to shop overseas amongst the latest mascara’d synthepoppers: Buy American. Support Rank and File. And who know? We may never have to listen to the Gatlin Brothers Ever Again!
The following interview originally appeared in FFanzeen Number 10, which was issued in 1983.
Never saw the Blasters play, but I have a few of their vinyl releases from that period. Rockabilly was definitely making a re-swing, despite the Blasters’ comments below, which I believe are meant respectfully tongue-in-cheek.
However, I did see Dave Alvin’s Americana-style group play at the Calgary Folk Festival during the early ’90s, and they were a blast (pun intended), though I was too far away for decent photos (hence their absence here). If you want to see them in action, though, they’re right there in the film Streets of Fire pretty much playing themselves for two great numbers (one of which is at the bottom of this page). – RBF “You don’t really think were rockabilly, do you?” asks Jon Bazz, bass player for the Blasters, the Slash / Warner Bros. recording artists who are reviving the roots of ‘50s rock’n’roll and transplanting them into the hearts of the ‘80’s record buying public. The Blasters, which include Phil Alvin, vocals; Bill Bateman, drums; Gene Taylor, piano; and Dave Alvin, lead guitar, prefer to look upon their brand of rock’n’roll as just “American music.
“For rockabilly, you have to have a stand-up bass, and the singer’s got to croon or hiccup. Our singer thinks it’s a racist term because back in the ‘50s, their influences were black (like) Little Junior Parker and Ray Brown. Then a white guy came along and put a hillbilly – because that’s what Elvis was – to it. Sam Phillips, who created the Sun sound, wanted a white guy who could sing like a black. He knew there was something to be gained by the mix of black and white when he started out.
“One of the biggest hits Carl Perkins had, ‘Matchbox,’ was an old negro folk tune out of the cotton fields. His daddy taught it to him.”
The Blasters see their music as more R&B than rockabilly, although they admit that “Go, Go, Go” is rockabilly-ish and “Rock ‘Em Pete” is jazz, and that their first album, American Music was on a rockabilly label, Rolling Rock Records.
“I liked a lot of different types of music. I’m 30 now. When I was going up in Downey (California), surf music was popular. Later in high school, I started listening to blues – post-war Chicago blues – like Muddy Waters.” It was around this time that John met Phil Alvin, another blues fan. They’d jam together and formed a band whenever they wanted an outlet for their music.
They hadn’t decided to devote themselves to music professionally until three-and-a-half years ago, when they were asked to play at a wedding reception. Phil, who was a math teacher at the time, and Bill Bateman, who was working in an amplifier company, had heard of someone who needed a band for their reception. So, they threw together an impromptu band with David and a few friends. They enjoyed performing so much that they decide to start rehearsing regularly, and organize a band.
“We played biker bars for free drinks and $40 a night. The bikers were more into their girlfriends and playing pool than listening to a band. They used to throw beer bottles. We were horrible then. We’d break strings and have to end the set. We learned a lot in 10 gigs, about how to present ourselves to an audience.”
And in their short career, they’ve presented themselves to many different types of audiences as they opened for various acts around the Los Angeles area. “We’ve always got along with the punk audience because we’re very authentic in the way we present ourselves. We were into playing the music we liked and eventually ended up on a rockabilly label.”
While out on the road promoting their independent release, the Blasters built up a following. “People liked our shows and that’s how we got on Slash / Warner Bros. I’m really thankful that the public likes our music.”
With a successful East Coast tour under their belts and their LP, The Blasters, doing well on the charts, the group is inspired with ambition. Right now, “the battle plan for the Blasters is rehearsing and getting new material. We’ve got six songs. We’re very slow in terms of putting out an album.”
But their die-hard fans shouldn’t worry, a six-song EP, The Blasters Live at the Venue, London, is soon to be released. [Note that the EP was titled Over There by the time it was released – RBF, 2010]
They’re also planning to put out a new album in February, and then get out on the road again. In the meanwhile, however, the band is looking forward to playing their old haunts in Los Angeles. “Things have split up. There are so many things going on. If we go out on tour for a couple of months, when we get back, there is a whole new generation out here.”
[Sidebar: Please excuse the dubbed dialog, that’s all I found; and note that the woman dancing is the real dancer from the film Flashdance]
The following article/interview with British guitar legend Chris Spedding was originally published in FFanzeen magazine, issue #6, in 1980. It mostly conducted by John Morace, and I was there throwing a few questions as well (the one’s I am positive are mine, I’ve indicated). The “new” album to which he is referring is I’m Not Like Everybody Else (1980). Further notes that have been added to the article by me now are asterisked. – RBF, 2010
Chris Spedding: Have you seen that Marlon Brando thing in Playboy? One of the better things he said was you can’t smile in print. Quite often when I do interviews, I say things and I mean them in sort of a funny way. And in black and white, it looks as if it’s a bit dry. If it’s about somebody, it could sound like you’re really putting them down. I’ll say, “Did I really say that?” And I might have, but with a grin on me face…You can always put laughs in parentheses. FFanzeen: What’s the news about your new solo album? Spedding: Yeah, I finished it. It’s done. Now I’m going over to England to produce an album for Snips, who used to sing in the Sharks. You remember the Sharks? FF [RBF]: Yeah, I saw them open for Roxy Music at the Academy of Music, now the Palladium. I remember Busta “Cherry” Jones playing bass on the left side of stage. I still have some slides of it somewhere… Is your album going to be released in America? Spedding: No, not as yet. We’re working on it. Same label as my last here, RAK. Yeah, I want it to come out in America. If everybody goes crazy over it – obviously, people are going to pick it up… For some reason, people just don’t understand my solo stuff in America. The stuff I have done with other people has been distributed; my other stuff has been imports. I’ve found a lot of people can’t quite get it together when they hear what I do, on my own banner. There is my name on the front of the album instead of small print on the back. It’s like, if somebody heard what I did with Bryan Ferry, and then they hear something of mine, they might have liked what I did with them, but that doesn’t mean they’re going to like what I’ve done by myself. And then they are surprised I didn’t sound like what I did with Bryan Ferry. How can it? I get that sort of problem. People think I’m not consistent in what I do with my own solo stuff. But if you listen to just my solo albums though, you’ll be able to follow a certain consistency. But obviously, if you think, “Well, he did this album, then he went and played with Bryan Ferry, then he went and played with John Cale, and then…,” if you look at it like that, of course I don’t appear to be consistent. Well, why should I if I’m just playing around. So that’s a problem. FF: When you play with different artists, do you try to gear what you do to what they want? How do you perceive that playing situation? Spedding: I just go play music. FF: Are there arrangements? Spedding: No, they probably got hold of me because they thought I would fit in with them. They would hide me if they thought I didn’t fit in. I always play the same stuff [smile]. I play the same lick in the morning with Petula Clark as in the evening with John Cale. (The licks) sound totally different. I don’t know why everybody thinks I’m so “versatile.” I have the same sound, same amp, same setting, same – I just do it. And if they hadn’t thought that I’d fit in with it, then it’s their fault for aksing me to do it, isn’t it? I susally get asked to do stuff because people have heard what I do and think I would fit in. So, I don’t know wher all that “versatility” stuff comes in, really. That’s a myth. It’s something you could fill a few column inches with, but it’s actually a myth. I really don’t want to subscribe to it… What I always try to ask people is, “Why do you want to interview me?” FF: Because I think there are a lot of fans who are curious to know “what the make is like”… And I see so many musicians who have respect for you. Spedding: Well, I’ve been out on the road in America, and I’ve seen people relate to me; not with respect, but people who can actually respond to me in the way I set out for people to respond to me. And it’s not respect for a great session guitar player, which I never really – the lousy thing sort of creeps up on you, you know? They just listen to the song and they don’t expect loads of flashy guitar, and they are just ordinary people that go out and buy records. And they are not critics or musicians. I see that it’s a small group, but it’s growing. People buy records of mine; they must. I don’t know the figures, but I do get a check now and then, which means that there must be somebody out there – not in the recording business who’s getting freebies – buying records, so I think your view of it is narrow. FF: Well, the difference in your popularity in England and America probably has something to do with the import prices here, which are usually quite high. . Spedding: Well, actually, that fosters a heavy cult thing, which I don’t have in England. My records are too readily available in England and I’m sort of like a part of the scenery. Over here, I’m not. In a way, it’s a bit of an advantage to start out, because those people that do pay that extra money for those records are staunch fans. I’ve actually signed album covers that I’ve totally forgotten about, of other artists whose names I can’t even remember. These fans have got almost everything I’ve done. Those are the sort of fans that I meet that you wouldn’t meet. So I know I have a following. FF: You said you were “starting out” now in America. Does that mean you’ve made the move here? Spedding: Yes, and primarily because my records haven’t been released here. Hopefully, I’ll generate the atmosphere wher people will want to release my records here. I’d like my records released here because I believe my records could be received quite well here. Simple as that… I like New York anyway – and I got fed-up with London. FF: You’re moving into production now? Spedding: Yeah, I consciously didn’t get into that before, because people used to think of me doing just anything that came along. And I consciously didn’t do anything that came along for a long time; to try to make people think otherwise. But people still think I’m just a session guy – you know, “Call ‘em up.” That seems to be the sort of, like, people who want to pass me off – like, “Oh, yeah, Spedding is just an old hack.” People still thought that. And when I was wit the group, and when I gave up the idea of being on the road with the Necessaries, I thought, why not go back and do all the things I know I have the experience to do, and that I’ve always wanted to do, and know that I could do well? Why should I not do them just because I don’t want people to think I do loads of different things? Because the myth of the rock star is that he’s just got to do this, and that’s it. People just want to narrow you down. Why should I do that, if I can do all these other things, and I enjoy them, and I don’t like sitting at home idle? Why the hell shouldn’t I? Too bad for everybody who’s making music. Make more music that way than making my own music. And I get input from a lot more people, and the richer my musical would becomes. It can’t be bad. FF: Besides the album for Snips, who specifically are you going to be working with? Spedding: A few, but nothing has been firmed up or fixed, so it really might be premature for me to mention people that I might be working with. But discussion is up for other people I might be working with, if and when I’m free. I’m going to be quite busy with the release of my album. If something remarkable happens, I’ve got to be around to do promotion and interviews in England. Consequently, I’m not booking myself up too much, but there are a few things on the horizon I could get into. FF: If the album were to take off, as it might have potential to do, what kind of band would you put together to support that album? Spedding: Well, if the album takes off, I don’t need to support it, do I? FF: But would you put a live act together? Spedding: Quite possibly. I might do something with Snips, ‘cause I’m working with him in October. It hasn’t been fixed up yet, so this is a vague sort of rumor, you could say. But he might come here, to New York, around New Year's, and we might do some dates together. But I’d not put together any lengthy tour. There’s something wrong in the music business when they’ll assume you’ll lose money on a tour. I’m not going to go out on tour until I know I’m going to make money. I don’t think rock bands should be in existence to make money for PR companies and roadies. They’re the ones making money… (with their) myth building and everything… I don’t really think of what I’m doing as rock at all, because it seems to be such a stale term. It’s not become our music; it’s something (for which) you have to “keep [the flame burning.” Rock’n’roll lives in (that flame) and pop music and disco is not in it at all. It’s like rock music s something we have to protect and look after. Which is all a lot of rubbish. As soon as you say that, the ting is dead. That’s what happened to jazz as soon as they started saying that. Any sort of music, as soon as you start to say that, as soon as it becomes frozen in amber, as it were – this is rock-this is not rock – the thing has stopped breathing. Pop music, you’re always safe with that, because pop music is always pop music. And when rock’n’roll was pop music, we were safe. When rock’n’roll stopped being pop music and started to be something you intellectualized about, and something you could write a thesis about, you’re sunk. It’s stopped developing – it’s become something you can actually look at. You’re not safe anymore. FF [RBF]: In the book After the Ball, Ian Witcomb said that the Beatles killed rock’n’roll as pop music because they were so gimmicky. Spedding: Yeah. Not themselves, but everybody else allowed it to happen, I suppose. They probably thought they were doing the right thing. I certainly did at the time, but it’s become so self-consdcious now. New Wave is just a very self-consious arty way to try to rescue that kind of exciement. It’s not reaching people in the street at all. FF [RBF]: Music in ’75, in New York, when it was just known as “Underground” music, was played for enjoyment, not record contracts. Spedding: If you see what rock’n’roll was, it (was) really a revolutionary music, and now it’s not revolutionary. Rock’n’roll is just like the establishment now. It was changing things in the ‘50s. FF: Well, I think it is revolutionary now, like Gang of Four, the Clash … Spedding: Well, it’s so self-conscious now. Then, they didn’t know what they were doing. Elvis didn’t know what he was doing. He just wanted to be like Dean Martin. You’ve read that Jerry Hopkins book*. It said he knew every Dean Martin tune. Have you heard Dean Martin’s “Dreams Are Made of This”?... Then you listen to “Don’t be Cruel.” That’s all the guy wanted to do. He wants to be like Dean Martin. He didn’t give a shit about rock’n’roll. (When) he did “That’s Alright Mama,” some critic said, “This is not rock’n’roll, this is not country and western, this is pop.” That’s what he wanted to do. When you take this Dean Martin fixation a stage further… you can say this was his “motive force.” That’s why he made those silly films; that’s why he went to Las Vegas… everything. FF: I read that the guy who signed Elvis to Sun said that he was looking for a white boy who could sing like a black boy. ** Spedding: Yeah, that’s the rock’n’roll myth. The truth was he wanted to be like Dean Martin. He didn’t single-handedly create rock’n’roll; he didn’t know what he was doing. He couldn’t wait to get away from all those rockabilly cat things and get into “Don’t Be Cruel” and those sorts of things. That was his favorite record, right? So that hypothesis holds quite a lot of water to me. Sure it’s a silly idea, but it’s more appealing to me than the rock’n’roll myth. Elvis didn’t know what he was doing, and builds on it. Obviously, the public needs this myth. It sells papers. But when somebody is like me, involved in the real nitty-gritty of the thing, I find it difficult to talk to people who are insistent on this myth. FF: What influences are on your album? Spedding: My album is pop. All my albums have been an attempt at pop. Some of them might have been a bit obscure, but the fire one definitely was. This new one is produced by Mickey Most, the same as the first one ***. They are all songs – sun and played the best I can – pop songs. I don’t want to lay any trips on anybody, or philosophize. I just want to entertain people. FF: Before the interview, you were commenting on how you get asked the same questions. What kind of questions do you like, as it seems we are having trouble thinking of original ones? Spedding: I always favor frivolous questions in an interview. New York Rocker did something once on me and I had Lydia Lunch and Anya Philips come down to interview me, and they asked the most frivolous questions. They were taking photographs of me boots and shoes and were asking was I a leather queen and stuff like that. Totally weird questions. I really enjoyed it. They went back to New York Rocker and they said that’s not quite what they were looking for. And then they send Richie Graybel along, who asked all the questions you would expect anybody to ask, and it was a carbon copy of other interviews, where all the same questions got asked. Actually, I saved him from that. I showed him one of these other interviews and he had asked exactly the same questions. So ewe managed to rescue ourselves from that situation. Actually, Interview is much more entertaining – big pictures and sunny quotes under them. FF: Did you ever do anything like painting…?” Spedding: Well, I used to do art. I could have done art I suppose; or writing. Journalism or something. FF: What other instruments do you play? Spedding: Oh, I sort of mess around on bass, keyboards – stuff like that. FF: Violin? Spedding: No. I played a b it of violin when I was really young, but I don’t have one now. And I can’t really play it except for a few weird noises. FF: What did you listen to as a child? Spedding: My mother. No, there wasn’t much pop music going on. It was all classical music until I was about 13, when I discovered rock’n’roll. I think that was about when rock’n’roll hit England. FF: What was the first record you ever bought? Spedding: Um, Lonnie Donnegan. Oh, he was a very big influence in England. Skiffle stuff. I used to buy all his records. These were 78s we used to buy. I think the first one was “Oh Boy” by the Crickets. And “Good Golly Miss Molly” by Little Richard. And a few Elvis things. There was “Jailhouse Rock.” FF: Skiffle was really big. Spedding: Yeah. I used to play all that stuff. FF: Skiffle never made it to America. Spedding: No, It couldn’t really. It’s too English, I suppose. But it’s the movement that gave birth to all the Beat groups in the ‘60s, like the Beatles and the Stones, and all that. Everybody who was the least bit musical used to thrash about to that. FF: When did you first move to London? Spedding: About 1961 or ‘2. FF: Was it a big change for you? Spedding: Well, yeah. I was in school before that. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do at that time and I was going through my own esoteric playing phase. I was listening to a lot of stuff I previously thought was better than pop music. I was pretty bigoted, I supposed. I got over that and went back to the first thing that turned me on. FF: Did you ever get pulled back into a different kind of music, outside of pop? Spedding: Well, pop is everything. Rock limits things. FF: What about jazz? Spedding: It was very important to my development. But it was really backwater – I never did anything with it. I was just messing around without any direction. Nothing really exciting was happening in the jazz world until the Beatles started. Then I sort of woke up and started getting into it again. When I started getting into pop-rock, if you like, then I started getting a reputation as a jazz musician, because I made an album with a jazz-rock group, Nucleus. I was supposed to be the “rock element” in the jazz group. I was able to understand their point of reference, unlike most other rock guitarists because of (my) jazz phase. And it was really strange. All I did was play the most boring sort of clichéd riffs – and they’re all so naïve, these jazz musicians; they’d never heard them. You could play the most boring cliché and they’d get all knocked out because they’d never heard it before. It’s really quite dangerous to live in such a musical backwater as this. As soon as Miles Davis started added electrical bass and rock rhythm sections, the whole thing became static. Rock form, with him embellishing things on the top. He stopped being what he was doing before. I won’t listen to that. I would rather listen to Sly Stone do it than Miles Davis. So jazz just totally stopped. It stopped developing altogether. So I just switched to the music that was happening for me. FF: Doesn’t every type of music become stagnant after a while? Spedding: Yeah, but it doesn’t mean I’ve got to get stagnant as well, does it?
2010 conclusion: While I have heard other people since saying what a nice guy he is and a joy to work with, I found him to be irritable and, well, depressing. John and I walked out and basically our conversation centered around “What the hell was that?” Mind you, we were not super prepared as his records were hard to come by (and, is stated in the interview, quite expensive), but he was quite morose in tone and really did not want to be there. He was grumbling before the interview, during it, and after. Lately he has been working with Robert Gordon and the reformed Roxy Music. Hopefully, he found some happiness in his work, and he should, for he truly is a talented musician.
* The Jerry Hopkins book to which he was referring is Elvis: A Biography (Simon & Schuster, New York), 1971. ** This has been attributed to Sam Phillips. *** Chris Spedding, 1975.
Solo Discography: http://www.discogs.com/artist/Chris+Spedding Further info: http://www.chrisspedding.com
Chuck Berry Live at The Heat, NYC 3/1/80 (c) Robert Barry Francos
After having heard Elvis Presley being called the king of rock’n’roll for my whole conscious life, the possibility of seeing Chuck Berry in the 1980s was very exciting to me. I’ve come to believe that while Elvis’ (pre-army) music could be hard-hitting, he was overrated. What made him so big, from my perspective, was he bridged “white” pop music and what was then commonly known as race music, or rhythm & blues.
In the pre-Elvis 1950s, if black artists wanted their music to be played on “mainstream” radio or television, they had to not only sell away their rights, they would have to let a white musician play it, with all the “slang” and soul eradicated – hence, the popularity of the largest-selling bridge-stander of the period, Pat Boone. Have you ever heard Boone’s version of Little Richard’s “Tutti Frutti,” or Ray Charles’ “What’d I Say” (reduced to “What Did I Say”)? I remember a taped, televised image of Boone singing “Tutti Frutti,” snapping his little fingers and trying to look so cool while actually looking uncoordinated and rhythmless, with a big, goofy smile across his face. Surely, the bridge on which he and other white musicians stood was the backs of the black artists, who were measly compensated for the use of their material.
Elvis, on the other hand, was a white musician who whitewashed the sound of a song. This made the possibility of soulfulness of the black artists more acceptable to the mass 1950s white audience, presenting it in a way imaginable to opening the door to more competent musicians who could actually play their instruments and write their own songs. Elvis famously yearned to be Dean Martin and Bobby Darin. He didn’t necessarily want to be a rock’n’roller; he wanted to be a pop crooner.
Even before the popularity of Elvis, he was not the first sincere white “bridge” bringing the soulful music of rhythm and blues to a mainstream white audience; some pioneers include songwriters Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller, disc jockeys Zenas “Daddy” Sears (Atlanta), “John R.” Richbourg (Nashville), Hunter Hancock (Los Angeles), Dewey Phillips (Memphis), and Alan “Moondoog” Freed (Cleveland, then New York), and record producers and label owners, such as Leonard Chess (Chess Records, Chicago) and Sam Phillips (Sun Records, Memphis).
I see rock’n’roll having a whole different hierarchy of royalty. The true king of rock’n’roll is Chuck Berry. It was Berry that brought an “almost grown” rock’n’roll sound to the fore. While based on basic I-IV-V R&B and Blues chord structures (“Johnny B. Goode” is one example) with a mixture of pop and even some country, Berry was also intelligent in his use of manipulating and playing with language (“As I was motor-vatin’ over a hill/I saw Maybellene in a Coupe DeVille”), witty in his phrasing (“Roll over Beethoven/And tell Tchaikovsky the news”), and steamrolling. He expressed the sheer joyousness of the music for the music’s sake: “Hail, hail, rock and roll/Deliver me from the days of old/Long live rock and roll/The beat of the drum is loud and bold/Rock rock rock and roll/The feeling is there body and soul.” And I agree with his sentiment that “It’s gotta be rock and roll music/If you wanna dance with me.”
The “queen,” or diva of rock’n’roll is Richard Penniman, better known as Little Richard. This is not meant in any reference to Richard’s varying sexual preferences, but rather that he brought a “fem” edge of flamboyance: glitter and bouffant hair, the make-up and the whooping, and a strong flavor of sexual tension that was different than any previous rock’n’roll headliner. In one “whooooo,” he could convey more overt sexuality than Elvis did with any hip wiggle. He brought to rock’n’roll a sense of camp and grandness.
The brother of the king (next-in-line) is Jerry Lee Lewis. His stylings are similar to Little Richard’s, both being heavily influenced by a combination of R&B, gospel and boogie, but Jerry Lee’s message was devious, less subtle, and a whole lot hornier. While Little Richard was the sex object from the ying perspective, saying, “take me” (“You keep a-knockin’ but you can’t come in/Come back tomorrow night and try again”), Jerry Lee Lewis – nicknamed “the Killer’ – was pure yang, into being the seducer and predator (“C’mon baby, don’t be shy.../You leave me/breathless-a”). Both also used the piano (along with their own physicality) as a raucous instrument of tension, frustration, and longing. Marshall McLuhan probably made a notation somewhere about the piano being a different kind of extension of these two artists.
The crown prince is Buddy Holly (during and post-Crickets). He managed to merge mainstream pop with country and swing, codifying his sound with emotion and meaning that people like Pat Boone could never achieve. It also explains Buddy’s successful gig before the infamously demanding audience at the Apollo Theater in New York. His message was one of innocence mixed with longing and, well, a Lubbock-fed Texas twang. His phrasing, both musically and lyrically, was unique (“Well All Right,” “True Love’s Ways”), sounding simple while actually being built upon innovative, complex and intricate rhythms. To take a slogan out of context, on the sexual battlefield, Buddy wanted to make love, not war in the musical arena.
Elvis, being a bridge, albeit an important and groundbreaking one, even while pre-dating Holly’s rise (and literal fall), actually brought the least to the table, except for his voice. He did not write his own music, and his guitar playing was nothing more than rudimentary. I tend to think the importance of the big “E” as the messenger, spreading the gospel of rock’n’roll to the masses, sort of like the role Paul was to Jesus. What he brought was important, but he was not the innovator.
There were also many strong women who had a pull on the direction of rock’n’roll as well, such as Big Momma Thorton, Wanda Jackson, Etta James, and Ruth Brown, but because of the period of history in which rock and roll developed and came to the forefront, women’s roles were mostly marginalized. There were more women with power behind the scenes than there were in front of the microphone. This included production, session musicians (such as bassist Carol Kaye, who, for example, played the intro to the Beach Boys “Good Vibrations”), promotion (British series Ready, Steady Go was produced by Vicki Wickham), and especially in the area of songwriting (Delores Fuller, Elli Greenwich, Carol King). It was not until the folk scene in the sixties, which had a heavy focus on both class and gender politics, did women start getting the acknowledgement they earned. Punk, too, would be heavily have a female influence, such as Patti Smith and Debbie Harry. But even then, many were treated as second class.
Currently living in Saskatoon (email at RBF55@msn.com for address). From 1977-88, I used to publish a print version of a music magazine in New York called FFanzeen, which dealt with the wide-ranging independent music scene. I also photographed many bands from the period (and since). Now I write this blog. And the beat goes on.
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