Well, that still might be the case… but it probably won’t have much to do with what I’ve heard so far from the White-Wanda collaboration.

The first “single” out of the chute (available on iTunes or on vinyl through White’s label Third Man Records) features two covers – Amy Winehouse’s You Know I’m No Good, and Shakin’ All Over by Sixties British rockers Johnny Kidd & The Pirates. The problem with the first is that it sounds a lot like Winehouse’s version, except without her amazingly expressive voice. And the second adds a fairly meaningless layer of horns on top of a classic rock riff that needs no help at all, thank you (the Who still owns the best remake of this song, from “Live at Leeds”).

Wanda sounds game on both cuts, but they don’t really play to her greatest strength as a vocalist – a primal sexuality with just enough purr to keep most men from running for the hills. I like to think of her as Howlin’ Wolf in drag, with a country twang.

If anything, White’s single sent me back (again) to one of the most enjoyable collections of music I own – “Queen of Rockabilly: The Very Best of the Rock ‘n’ Roll Years,” on Ace Records (UK import). It’s an embarrassment of riches… great sound, hot pickin’, cool covers of rock classics, and the unbridled pleasures of Wanda wailin’ into one of those big, tube-driven microphones.

Now, Wanda wasn’t an innovator in the same sense as Elvis or even the most dangerous rockabilly band on the planet at that time, the Johnny Burnette Trio. Her producer at Capitol Records, Ken Nelson, was known mainly for hit country singles, and he recorded Wanda at Capitol’s state-of-the-art studio in Los Angeles. So none of these songs had the same edge as the nastier stuff that came out of Sam Phillips’ studio in Memphis. But Nelson knew a great voice when he heard it – and his clean, uncluttered arrangements put the focus squarely on Wanda’s voice, just the way God and Elvis intended. Case in point… Let’s Have a Party

That cut was recorded with a mixed-race band from Arkansas called Bobby Poe & the Kats. And its dangerous attitude can be partially credited to Elvis Presley, who dated Wanda a few times when they toured together back in the mid-’50s. According to Wanda, Elvis schooled her on the blues and encouraged her to toughen up her sound by moving from country to rockabilly. Mission accomplished.

A native of Maud, Oklahoma, Wanda was raised on country music. Her father was an aspiring country singer who moved the family to Los Angeles in the ’40s, probably hoping to land a record deal with one of the city’s big labels, but eventually moved back east to Oklahoma City. His musical aspirations soon shifted to young Wanda, who won a talent contest in high school as well as the attention of country star Hank Thompson, who asked her to perform with his Brazos Valley Boys in 1954. She recorded a few singles on Capitol Records with Thompson’s band – You Can’t Have My Love reached number eight on the country charts – but certainly didn’t gain enough notoriety to make Kitty Wells nervous. Then Wanda met Elvis, signed with Capitol as a solo artist, and recorded 30-some tunes that were among the most prized possessions of rockabilly collectors around the world (until Ace Records spoiled the fun in 2000 by finally making all of them available in one place).

Wanda didn’t stick with rockabilly very long, though. After she recorded these classic sides, she drifted back to country music in 1965 and stayed there until the ’80s. This probably had as much to do with her newfound Christian faith as a realization that she simply couldn’t maintain a long career in music by shredding her vocal cords every time she stepped up to the mic.

Wanda’s ambivalence is especially apparent on this tune from 1956, which gave her a unique opportunity to have it both ways: I Gotta Know

One of the best songs on the collection is a pop-flavored number from 1961 called Funnel of Love. Here Wanda shows a little more reach with some nice vocal flourishes – and it’s surprising that such an alluring tune didn’t do better on the charts: Funnel of Love

One of the special charms of “Queen of Rockabilly” is the almost off-handed approach to some of these sessions. It seems like Nelson seldom had anything specific in mind, other than turning Wanda loose with some of the best session players in the business – including A-list guitarists like Joe Maphis, Buck Owens and, later, Roy Clark. Here’s some nifty work by Maphis on Hot Dog! That Made Him Mad: Hot Dog! That Made Him Mad

Nelson also had Wanda cover some of the era’s rock ‘n roll hits. Are they essential remakes of the originals? Not really – except maybe Wanda’s version of Brown-Eyed Handsome Man, which almost outdoes Chuck Berry’s original by switching genders for a little added sex appeal. And on a few tunes, Nelson couldn’t resist those syrupy vocal choruses that the musicians union must have required at virtually every recording session back in the early Sixties. But there’s something to admire on every song, whether it’s the “good girl gone bad” appeal of Wanda’s voice or the country soul of Roy Clark’s guitar.

Wanda eventually made her way back to rockabilly in the Eighties, fueled by the enthusiasm of roots-music fanatics in Europe and the lasting appeal of whacked-out numbers like Fujiyama Mama, which made her a minor sensation in Japan – even with its politically incorrect references to the atom bomb: Fujiyama Mama

Maybe I should lower my expectations about the White-Wanda project… Then again, maybe Ace Records did Wanda a disservice by putting all those great rockabilly sides on one CD. Why play with sparklers when you’ve got enough fireworks to light up the whole sky?

Wanda today

Wanda on video… Here’s Wanda rippin’ up Hard Headed Woman. Not sure who the guitar player is (Joe Maphis?), but he’s a sumbitch.

A fine-lookin’ Wanda covers a country tune by Webb Pierce:

Turns out, the record store DJ had it right… It’s just that my ears refused to process the sounds I was hearing as genuine recordings of real musicians playing real instruments in real time, without any studio gimmicks or special effects.  Which only gave me greater respect for the unique talents of Bryant and West.  How could two guys – one on electric guitar and the other on pedal steel – combine such blazing speed and sheer musicality?  Case in point… Stratosphere Boogie

A little background… Guitarist Ivey “Jimmy” Bryant was born in Moultrie, Georgia, in 1925.  His father’s modest skills as a sharecropper had little influence on his son – but the elder Bryant made an impression in other areas, especially with his musical ability (he was proficient on several instruments), his bad temper and his love of the bottle.

At the age of 18, the younger Bryant joined the army of General George Patton and was severely injured by a grenade in 1945 during the invasion of Germany.  With little to do during his recovery, Bryant used the time to learn how to play guitar and fiddle – and further honed his skills in USO clubs after the war.  He eventually moved to Los Angeles to take advantage of the city’s growing reputation as a hub of country and hillbilly music.

Wesley “Speedy” West had a more stable upbringing in Springfield, Missouri, where his father worked at a gospel publishing company and played guitar.  Young Wesley learned how to play the Hawaiian guitar at the age of nine and soon earned some notice after winning a prize at a school-sponsored talent contest (he got his nickname from a local DJ).  While still in his teens, he worked in a machine gun factory during World War II and eventually started farming and playing local gigs to support his wife, Opal, and son, Donnie.  Like Byrant, he felt the lure of California, so he packed up the family and survived a “Grapes of Wrath”-like journey to land in Los Angeles in 1946.

While Bryant was playing in local dives, West was gaining notice among the city’s great western swing bands – and he eventually joined a 23-piece outfit led by Spade Cooley.  Already an established name, West met Bryant at one of L.A.’s skid-row music joints in 1948.  The two quickly formed a mutual admiration society and began a musical partnership that reached its peak in the studios of L.A.-based Capitol Records.

Given West’s near-reckless approach to the pedal steel guitar, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that he recorded with the king of the novelty music craze in the 1940s and early ‘50s, Spike Jones.  But the instrumentals that Speedy cut with Jimmy Bryant from 1950 to 1956 on Capitol Records are far more sublime than ridiculous (for the most part) and are widely regarded as little works of art by some of today’s greatest pickers. Speedin’ West

I like to think of the Bryant/West instrumentals as part of a very American take on the famous recordings by legendary Belgian guitarist Django Reinhardt (whose dazzling runs inspired Bryant) and his usual foil, violinist Stephane Grappelli – sort of a Hot Club of L.A. instead of France.  Reinhardt and Grappelli were simply burning their way through the show tunes and standards of the era (along with a few fine originals, like Django’s memorable Nuages).  If anything, the standard arrangements served as launching pads for all the fireworks that followed – mere excuses for Reinhardt and Grappelli to trade incredible solos that still stand the test of time… Sheik of Araby

Bryant and West gave themselves a little more freedom by creating their own vehicles for improvisation – songs like Frettin’ Fingers, Swingin’ on the Strings and Speedin’ West.  Sure, when you strip away the solos, the basic song structures are just as cornball as Dinah and Sweet Georgia Brown.  But Bryant/ West give Le Hot Club de France a run for its money on workouts like this one… China Boy

And let’s not forget the many sessions where Bryant and West backed up early-Fifties hit-makers like Tennessee Ernie Ford, Gene Autry, and Roy Rogers and Dale Evans.  Before you start scoffing at that short list of Hollywood cowpokes, let me give you some aural evidence that Bryant and West didn’t screw around in the studio – no matter who they were supporting (the first edit is Speedy’s solo, then Jimmy’s)… I’m Hog Tied Over You/Tennessee Ernie Ford & Ella Mae Morse

The advent of rock ‘n roll and other musical trends weren’t kind to Bryant and West.  Bryant’s playing always danced on the edge, and he had little patience for following anyone’s direction in the studio or bending to the conventions of Nashville.  He recorded a few jazz-based originals before drifting into obscurity in the 1960s and ‘70s.  A lifelong smoker, Bryant died of lung cancer in 1980.  West kept himself busy with some studio work and eventually took a job in Tulsa as a warehouse manager for Fender Musical Instruments.  After suffering a stroke in 1981, he never played again, and finally succumbed to chronic health problems in 2003.

Today, Bryant and West are recognized as pioneers on their respective instruments – with Bryant among the first guitarists to master the Fender Telecaster and West an “early adapter” of the pedal steel.  Sadly, only a small handful of their recordings together are available on iTunes, and two exceptional compilations of their Fifties instrumentals – “Stratosphere Boogie” and “Swingin’ on the Strings,” both on the Razor & Tie label – appear to be out of print (someone correct me if I’m wrong).  But those CDs are still available on amazon – get ‘em before they’re gone for good!

Two fine videos on youtube… The first shows West and Bryant together on the Hometown Jamboree, a country-western show that aired every Saturday night in Los Angeles (1949-1959) on KTLA-TV (turn up the sound on this one).

The second is someone’s loving tribute to The Night Rider — I don’t normally care for these homemade slideshow/video re-creations on youtube, but this one’s pure genius.  It seems to capture the mood of the country, back when Speedy and Jimmy roamed the streets of L.A

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