The Storey Sisters in Cleveland, April 1958 (Photos by Tommy Edwards)

(Listen to Eddie Cochran while you read.)

Start with a good mystery. Then throw in some intimate and revealing images from the early years of rock ‘n roll. Therein lies the beauty of “1950s Radio in Color: The Lost Photographs of Cleveland Deejay Tommy Edwards” – a spellbinding book by songwriter, musician and music historian Christopher Kennedy, as well as a new exhibit at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum that runs through the summer.

The story behind these photographs combines a little intrigue with a lot of luck. Eight years ago, Kennedy began searching for one of the Holy Grails of rock – a movie short called “The Pied Piper of Cleveland” that includes early (pre-fame) footage of Elvis Presley taken during his first tour outside of the south. The movie was produced by Cleveland DJ Bill Randle as a way to document his own role in promoting rock ‘n roll.

Randle was an intense rival of fellow DJ Edwards, another noteworthy figure in the Cleveland music scene (both Randle and Edwards plied their trade at WERE-AM). But Randle had the good sense to put competitive jealousies aside and feature Edwards in the film as the first DJ in Cleveland to recognize Presley’s unique talents.

As Kennedy dug deeper into the history of the film (which remains missing), he became more interested in Edwards’ reputation as a devoted chronicler of all things rock ‘n roll. First of all, Edwards’ vivid photos – compiled in Kennedy’s book along with the author’s wry commentary – provide an inside look at some of the early stars of rock, country, hillbilly and pop as they made their career-building pilgrimages to WERE and Cleveland-area nightclubs. Second, he created a weekly, two-page newsletter that provides historical context to these images and the music business in general during the mid- to late-‘50s. Here’s a taste from the “T.E. Newsletter” (dated Sept. 2, 1955):

“Eileen Rodgers opens at the Alpine Village here on the 5th —– Johnny Van does the Cabin Club here this weekend to be followed by Laurie Anders —– Nat Cole’s next is FORGIVE MY HEART —– Gene Davis now working in Dayton — formerly here in Cleveland and Akron —- My new hobby is taking pictures of all stars who come in to visit on the show —– R & B TUNES TO WATCH: I’M SO GLAD, Mickey & Sylvia; IT’S OBDACIOUS, Buddy Johnson; IT’S YOU, YOU, YOU, The Charms.”

In the preface to his book, Kennedy describes some of the side trips that led him to the photos and the only surviving copy of every issue of the “T.E. Newsletter” – now safely housed in the Rock Hall’s Library and Archives. He befriended Edwards’ nephew, Keith Winters, who helped him locate the slides; and a separate detour led him to the newsletters, which Randle gave to Cleveland journalist David Barnett as a gift (bear with me… these artifacts made their way through a whole cast of characters).

Winters initially notified Kennedy about five Ektachrome slides he received from his father, Edwards’ half-brother Gerald Winters. These included an iconic shot that seems to capture a passing of the torch from an elder Bill Haley to Elvis, whose career was on the rise as Haley’s tailed off. Kennedy assumed the five slides were the only ones that survived, but then he found the motherlode.

“My discovery of Tommy Edwards’ small cache of photos was a nice coup for a novice rock ‘n’ roll detective but it was nothing compared to what was to come,” Kennedy writes. “Within a few weeks of our first communications, I receive an excited, late-night call from Keith, who asked if I’m sitting down. While looking for Christmas decorations, he found treasure stashed away under a basement workbench: several dusty cardboard boxes with the family name ‘Mull’ (Edwards was born Thomas Edward Mull) handwritten on the sides, containing 1,790 more slides. Gerald Winters had, in fact, inherited all of his deceased half-brother’s photographs. Sometime around 1988, Gerald gave the slide collection to his son… Keith simply had forgotten about them.”

As the book and exhibit reveal, the Edwards collection is an embarrassment of riches. I wouldn’t call Edwards a master photographer, but he definitely had a knack for capturing images that were strikingly honest and unvarnished. He also found a perfect use for his images, featuring them in slide shows at the many record hops he’d host throughout the area. Did Edwards create the first multi-media rock show?

Chuck Berry at Gleason's Musical Bar, August 1955

The above photo of a 28-year-old Chuck Berry seems like it was shot in the basement of one of those ethnic social clubs you can find throughout Cleveland. It actually was taken at Gleason’s Musical Bar, a popular club on Cleveland’s east side (E. 55th and Woodland) from 1942 to 1962. Virtually every major blues and jazz act you can think of from the era came through Gleason’s – James Brown, Bo Diddley, B.B. King, Ella Fitzgerald, Charlie Parker, Nat King Cole… This photo shows Berry with local sax star Sammy Dee, founder and leader of the house band for the show Bandstand (before it became American Bandstand).

In 1958, Johnny Cash came through town long enough to plop himself down on the couch at WERE studios to visit with Edwards. “Less than comfortable must be Sun Records owner Sam Phillips, walking the floor back in Memphis, justifiably paranoid about the clandestine deal Cash has struck with Columbia Records to leave Sun as soon as contractually possible,” Kennedy notes in his book.

That same year, rocker Eddie Cochran stopped by Cleveland to promote his new single Jeanie, Jeanie, Jeanie. More from Kennedy: “A rock ‘n’ roll star with smoldering sex appeal; an innovative guitarist, songwriter, and music producer; international touring act and budding movie star – the kid’s got it all. Except time.” Two years later, Cochran died in England when he was thrown from a taxi in a high-speed crash. Rockabilly star Gene Vincent (another subject of Edwards’ camera) survived the accident with minor injuries, but his glory days were mostly behind him.

Eddie Cochran, January 1958

Edwards eventually became the proprietor of Record Heaven in Cleveland’s Brooklyn neighborhood before passing away in 1981. Kennedy continues to search for Bill Randle’s long-lost treasure, “The Pied Piper of Cleveland.” I’ll definitely pay more attention at local garage sales, but the smart money’s on the guy who already delivered the goods with the lost photographs of Tommy Edwards.

Thirty-two images from Edwards’ collection are now showing in the Baker Gallery of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum’s Main Exhibit Hall. Check the Museum’s website for more information.

So who, you might ask, are The Storey Sisters? Hailing from Philadelphia, sisters Ann and Lillian helped pioneer the “girl group” sound that paid off in the Sixties for acts like The Shirelles, The Shangri-Las and The Ronettes. This smokin’ little number from 1957 features NYC session guitarist Wild Jimmy Spruill, who had the distinction of appearing on two #1 hits in May ’59: The Happy Organ by Dave “Baby” Cortez and Kansas City by Wilbert Harrison.

I’m not a Broadway musical kind of guy. I blame it on the gritty, gut-wrenching films I watched as a kid, like Mean Streets and The Deer Hunter. You won’t hear me burst into Oklahoma or The Impossible Dream, with arms flailing for dramatic effect.

I’m also wary of most efforts to make the form more contemporary. Walked out of Phantom during intermission (wanted to leave earlier)… Found Mamma Mia! to be a promising new method of torture for terrorist suspects… Would rather put a rivet gun to my head than go see American Idiot.

So when I was offered a few tickets to a touring production of Million Dollar Quartet, I initially demurred. But I’m glad I went, for several reasons. First, it’s a snapshot of a time in music I’ve always found fascinating – right after the birth of rock ‘n roll, and before Elvis had about 30 bad films under his belt. Second, all the principal actors in the production are real, live, breathing musicians who acquit themselves nicely on Fifties classics like Matchbox, Who Do You Love, Great Balls of Fire and Sixteen Tons. Third, it keeps the threadbare narrative conceits you can find in virtually every musical to a minimum.

The production also benefits from the contributions of musical arranger/supervisor Chuck Mead, who co-founded one of the best bands to come out of Nashville in many years, BR5-49.

Million Dollar Quartet: The Musical

For those of you who prefer Broadway musicals to Memphis rock ‘n roll, let me offer a little background (the rest of you can skip ahead a couple of paragraphs). Million Dollar Quartet captures an eventful night at a legendary site – Memphis’ Sun Studios, where producer Sam Phillips made music history with artists ranging from Howlin’ Wolf and Junior Parker to Elvis and Jerry Lee Lewis. But by late ‘56, Phillips was struggling to come up with his next big star, having sold Elvis’ contract to RCA the previous year for $40,000. Although Johnny Cash was tearing up the charts with Folsom Prison Blues and I Walk the Line, he couldn’t keep up with Elvis, who made his first appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show on September 9, 1956 (with an amazing 83% of the nation’s TV audience). And Carl Perkins was still fighting his way back from a serious car accident earlier in the year.

That was the setting on December 4, 1956, when Elvis – joined by paramour du jour Marilyn Evans, a showgirl from Vegas – just happened to be back in Memphis for the holidays. On a whim, Elvis and Evans decided to stop by Sun Studios, where Perkins and special guest Lewis were working on a few numbers (Matchbox and Put Your Cat Clothes On). And, depending on whether you believe the Man in Black or roots music aficionado Peter Guralnick – author of the definitive book on Elvis, “Last Train to Memphis: The Rise of Elvis Presley” – Cash was either there when Elvis walked in the door or was summoned by Phillips to show up later. Regardless, it marked the first and only performance of the so-called Million Dollar Quartet of Presley, Perkins, Cash and Lewis – and Sun producer and engineer Cowboy Jack Clement had the tape rolling for posterity.

Mostly, the foursome toyed with gospel numbers and hillbilly tunes and even tackled a few Christmas standards, like Jingle Bells and White Christmas. But maybe the significance of the event was the way they lovingly recreated some of the songs they grew up with while mostly avoiding the rockers that made them famous. On this point, I’ll defer to Colin Escott’s liner notes with the 2006 reissue (which features 12 minutes of previously unreleased material):

“…except for a couple of Chuck Berry songs, a Pat Boone song, and a few of Elvis’ hits, the Million Dollar Quartet session was a catechism in where rock ‘n’ roll came from. Rock ‘n’ roll wasn’t delivered to us one night in 1955, and it wasn’t white kids singing R&B. Rock ‘n’ roll was born of white gospel, black gospel, old country, new country, doo-wop, blues, pop, and cowboy songs. And it’s all here. This is the common ground. This is what the founding fathers of rock ‘n’ roll music heard and played solely for the love of playing it. Only those who were present at the creation knew about this music, and in their hands, rock ‘n’ roll was, in the broadest sense, folk music.”

Case in point: the quartet’s rousing rendition of this traditional song: Farther Along

The folks responsible for the musical certainly shared Escott’s point of view, but they also knew the events of 12/4/56 didn’t exactly lend themselves to an extended dramatic treatment. So they introduce a few other story lines that didn’t come into play during the actual quartet sessions. For example, Marilyn Evans became Dyanne, a swinging chanteuse who performs Fever and I Hear You Knockin’. Johnny Cash announces his departure to Columbia Records, even though he stayed with Sun for another two years. Perkins clashes with the flamboyant newcomer Lewis and then confronts Phillips for letting Elvis appropriate his hit song Blue Suede Shoes. And Phillips reminds everyone that he was responsible for giving them their first breaks.

Cowboy Jack Clement

Seems like a good opportunity to hear from someone who was there, so I decided to check in with Nashville resident Cowboy Jack:

T.Q.: Did you see the musical? What did you think about it?

J.C.: Yeah, I saw it a couple months ago. I liked it… They even had me sing one of my songs at the end – It’ll Be Me, which Jerry Lee did. It’s a great show… you should go see it.

I did… and I agree! The play made it seem like there was some tension between Perkins and Lewis. Was that what you recall?

I don’t remember any tension at the sessions – maybe a little bit between Sam and both Johnny Cash and Carl Perkins, who later left Sun for Columbia in Nashville… I brought Jerry Lee there to play piano. He played great that day. We came up with a hit, Matchbox. Jerry Lee’s piano playing made that record: Matchbox

Did you feel you were part of something historic?

Sort of, yeah… especially when Elvis came in. He was really diggin’ Jerry Lee’s stuff on the radio. There was a bunch of jammin’ on old gospel songs like Down by the Riverside as I recall. They all knew those old standards. It went on for quite a while. Sam went next door to Taylor’s Restaurant, where they had a juke box with a lot of Sun singles. Sam took care of a lot of business at Taylor’s – he even had an office there. (Back at the studio) I heard them talkin’ and jammin’ and thought I’d be remiss if I didn’t turn on the tape machine, so I moved a couple of mikes around and let it roll for a couple hours. Sam came back, saw what was going on and called the paper. That’s how the photograph happened (at the top of our post). No one paid much attention to the tape… It sat on the shelf in a metal container and was there when I left a few years later. Then someone bootlegged it and it became an album. They played a lot of good stuff that day, pickin’ and singin’ those old songs.

I’ll leave the last word to the late Phillips (quoted in Guralnick’s book “Last Train to Memphis”): “It was totally extemporaneous… everything was off mike, if it was on mike it was by accident – I think this chance meeting meant an awful lot to all those people, not because one was bigger than another, it was kind of like coming from the same womb.”

Elvis is leaving the building… and you can hear Jerry Lee shout out to Cowboy Jack: Elvis Says Goodbye

Carl Perkins with a few special friends… I’m surprised this didn’t make Scorcese’s George Harrison doc on HBO – proof the guy could play some serious rockabilly…

(c)BarryFeinsteinphotography.com

How many of you are heading to Akron for the holidays?

Actually, once you get past the startling lack of color and “fresh as the driven slush” look of our winter landscapes, this time of year has its charms in the Rubber City. Especially when you can avoid the chill outside by checking out the current attraction at the Akron Art Museum – Who Shot Rock & Roll: A Photographic History, 1955 to the Present.

Akron Art Museum

The touring exhibition features 174 photos and 8 videos by 111 photographers and videographers, including Richard Avedon, Anton Corbijin, Diane Arbus, Annie Leibovitz and many more. It landed at our world-class museum on October 23, so of course it’s time for RCR to announce its arrival (we’ll celebrate the 40^th anniversary of The Numbers Band sometime next year). Besides, our good friend Barbara Tannenbaum, Director of Curatorial Affairs at the Museum, assured us that even a plug from the barely educated beer-swilling contrarians at RCR would be welcome as the holiday season quickly approaches.

“No form of music has ever been as integrally tied to the visual arts as rock and roll,” says Tannenbaum. “Photographers of rock did not just document the musicians and concerts. They helped create identities for the performers and their musical styles, providing visual equivalents as thrilling and entrancing as the music itself. This exhibition reveals, for the first time, the nature of the relationship between photography and rock and roll.”

Even though many of the photographs are by now familiar to the rock faithful, they still deliver a jolt – reminding us how the transcendent power of a great rock show could turn your standard multi-use facility into a sacred place of worship. Of course, the stars themselves look fabulous in settings that range from subterranean sleaze (the Ramones) to high-fashion glitz (Grace Jones). And who can resist the seduction of Amy Winehouse in bed, er… seducing herself? But the exhibition serves more as a tribute to the unsung heroes of rock ‘n roll – the photographers and artists who helped create the form’s most lasting images, including a few that focus on frenzied crowds and fans as well as the stars they idolize.

The Ramones, Ian Dickson/www.late20thcenturyboy.com

“Rock and roll was a bipartite revolution: the sound and the image,” said guest curator Gail Buckland. “The music alone could not create the revolution. The kids were reacting to the hairstyles and the clothes and the body language. And the people who gave rock its image are very, very important. Revolutions have to be documented to be believed.”

The exhibition offers a rare public look at some iconic rock ‘n roll images, including a 1963 photograph by Philip Townsend of the Rolling Stones half in the bag at an Australian pub; a candid shot of James Brown in curlers by Diane Arbus; Jean-Paul Goude’s working photographs and album cover for Grace Jones’ “Island Life”; the full sequence of never-before-exhibited photographs by Ed Caraeff of Jimi Hendrix burning his guitar at the Monterey Pop Festival in 1967; Richard Avedon’s four classic 1967 Beatles portraits (as well as his stunning shot from 1961 of The Everly Brothers in Las Vegas); Ike and Tina Turner at Club Paradise in Memphis in 1962 by the African-American photographer Ernest Withers… And let’s not forget one of my favorite images – Alfred Wertheimer’s photograph of Elvis in rock’s golden year of 1956, canoodling backstage with an unnamed admirer:

Elvis Whispers Softly, (c)Alfred Wertheimer, The Wertheimer Collection

I also was captivated by Ebet Roberts’ 1993 photograph of The Cramps at New York City’s legendary CBGB club, with Akron’s own Lux Interior in all his sartorial splendor – wearing a skin-tight black vinyl jumpsuit with matching gloves and black pumps.

Some of the best photographs show image-conscious rock stars in private, unguarded moments. The previously mentioned shot of Amy Winehouse, Buddy Holly on a bus, Kurt Cobain breaking down backstage, Keith Richards having a smoke in Prague, Paul McCartney looking through his car’s rearview mirror… “People who later became icons were on the brink of their careers wondering whether anybody was ever going to notice them,” said the late photographer Linda McCartney. “That’s what made it exciting to be taking photographs. It was before the self-consciousness set in. I wanted to record what was there – every blemish, every bit of beauty, every emotion. I wasn’t interested in manufacturing a show business image.”

The exhibition also features music videos, a rock-and-roll chronology made from actual album covers, and an 80-image slide show by Henry Diltz – evocative of that whole Sixties back-to-the-land noble-hippie mythos that never seemed to get much traction in the Rubber City. And The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame generously contributed several rock costumes for display as part of the exhibition, including Phil Spector’s Gold Star Recording Studio jacket, Elton John’s sparkly “Hercules” suit, Tina Turner’s silver mini-dress and Madonna’s Girlie Show Tour purple velvet stage costume.

If that embarrassment of rock ‘n roll riches leaves you wanting more (or if you can’t make it to the Rubber City during the holidays), you can always spring for the exhibition catalog – a hardcover book authored by Buckland. “Who Shot Rock & Roll: A Photographic History, 1955 to Present” contains 298 color and black and white photographs, along with commentary about each image’s photographer, their influences and relationships with the musicians. The catalog will be sold in the Museum Store for $40, or can be purchased online at AkronArtMuseum.org.

Above: Wilson Pickett and Jimi Hendrix – Michael Randolph, Executor to the Estate of: William “PoPsie” Randolph.

Who Shot Rock & Roll is organized by the Brooklyn Museum with guest curator Gail Buckland. The exhibition will be at the Akron Art Museum through January 23, 2011. Also, the Museum will be open two extra days – Monday, Dec. 27  and Tuesday, Dec. 28 – to make it more convenient for those of you visiting from out of town.

Technically, this ain’t rock ‘n roll… but the Campbell Brothers rock a lot harder than anything on Cleveland radio. They’re a sacred steel gospel group from Rush, NY, with the mighty Chuck Campbell on pedal steel. This clip was filmed in ’98 at their home base, The House of God Church. If they open one in Akron, I’m in. Thank you Brother James…

Congrats, Dan and Pat! Four Grammy nods for The Black Keys:

• Best Alternative Music Album (“Brothers”)
• Best Rock Song (Tighten Up)
• Best Rock Performance by a Duo or Group with Vocals (Tighten Up)
• Best Rock Instrumental Performance (Black Mud)

Also, Pat’s brother Michael Carney was nominated for Best Recording Package for his “Brothers” artwork, which we touched on in our previous post.

Justin Bieber, beware… The Black Keys’ march toward world domination goes right up your backside!

Lightnin’ rarely strayed from his unique “yin-yang” approach to the blues. He was a country blues guitarist who learned his craft at the feet of fellow Texan Blind Lemon Jefferson, a true master of the form. Yet he spent much of his career on the streets of Houston, often using stream-of-consciousness lyrics to describe tough characters and situations that were familiar to many urban blacks. And whether he sang or spoke those lyrics, his laconic delivery never seemed to soften the menace of his razor-sharp guitar: Nothin’ But The Blues

Rather than try to capture the full genius of Lightnin’ Hopkins in one post, I decided to focus on a set of recordings from early 1954 that I’d argue are far more rockin’ than anything Elvis later recorded at Sun Studios.

The sessions took place in Houston and were released on the New York-based Herald label. From a commercial standpoint, these singles didn’t exactly fly off the shelves – although I’m sure they made their way onto quite a few jukeboxes in the South. Herald eventually compiled some of the songs on the 1959 album “Lightnin’ and the Blues,” which was aimed squarely at the burgeoning folk-blues movement (with this creaky sales pitch on the cover: “Lightnin’ Hopkins sings a collection of American Folk Lore”). But that release didn’t rock the charts either. In his liner notes to the 2001 CD release, Chris Smith theorizes that “white fans perhaps weren’t ready for the uncompromising rawness of Hopkins’ amplified juke joint blues.”

But the Herald recordings had a huge impact on many a young guitar slinger – including Stevie Ray Vaughan, who seemed to have the blazing instrumental Hopkins’ Sky Hop in mind when he recorded the Grammy-nominated Rude Mood on his first album, “Texas Flood.” Apparently Lightnin’ thought so too, claiming that the tune was a “take off” on his familiar style. On this first sample, I’ve put the two songs side-by-side for the sake of further argument: Hopkins’ Sky Hop/Rude Mood

There’s probably no need to start a fight… I’m sure if someone had pointed the similarities out to Stevie Ray, he would’ve pled guilty right away. And his badass brother Jimmie has no problem connecting the dots from Lightnin’ to his own style of playing. The fact is, any modern-day Texas blues guitarist worth arguing about owes a huge debt to Lightnin’ Hopkins and the red-hot tracks he laid down for Herald in ’54.

In his book “Lightnin’ Hopkins: His Life and Blues,” author Alan Govenar captures the significance of these recordings: “The twenty-six sides that Lightnin’ issued on Herald took his music to a new level. While little is known of what actually transpired during these sessions, the results were phenomenal. Lightnin’s amplified guitar had an explosiveness that had not been heard before, but note for note, Donald Cooks on bass and Ben Turner on drums – two session players in Houston – were completely in synch with his every lick.” Here’s more evidence that Lightnin’ and his band came to play: My Baby’s Gone

The band’s undeniable chemistry is even more remarkable when you consider Lightnin’s casual approach to chord changes, time signatures and other basic musical signposts. Like his contemporary John Lee Hooker, Lightnin’ had a highly original and distinctive style of playing that often was best expressed in solo performances, where he would hang on to a chord or a groove for as long as he felt it. And obviously, this approach didn’t always translate well to a full-band setting. Probably the best advice anyone could give one of his backing musicians was simply “hang on tight.” As drummer Robert Murphy complained, “Some nights we’d jam, we’d go all night. And the next night, we’d be somewhere different, we’d play a little while, and he would just turn around and tell the people, ‘Well, folks, I don’t think me and this drummer are gonna make it.’” (From an essay by John Wheat: “Lightnin’ Hopkins: Blues Bard of the Third Ward.”)

Govenar rightfully notes that the Herald sessions “anticipated the rock explosion of 1955 and 1956.” But Lightnin’, who already was in his early 40s when he made those landmark recordings, couldn’t compete with more youthful rock ‘n rollers like Elvis and Little Richard. Regardless, I never understood why the Herald recordings, although clearly in the blues vein, aren’t commonly recognized as vital artifacts of early rock. Listen to the big, booming rhythm on this next cut. Just once, I’d like to hear Lightnin’ blasting from one of those ridiculously jacked-up car stereos… Moving On Out Boogie

“Whatever he did in his day-to-day life, when he stepped into that studio, he was on fire,” Govenar wrote. But Lightnin’ walked away from the Herald sessions with little fanfare. He remained a regional blues favorite who still had to scrape and hustle for every dime he made. Only a few months later, Elvis would stroll into Sam Phillips’ studio in Memphis and record the first of his groundbreaking singles for Sun Records. Of course we all know who became the household name. But Lightnin’ was able to exact a little revenge in the early Sixties when he kick-started a whole new career on the folk-blues circuit while Elvis was doing everything he could to become completely irrelevant.

Over the years, Lightnin’ became one of the most prolific recording artists of any genre, waxing some 1,000 tunes on countless labels. I don’t pretend to be an expert on that massive discography. I just know what I like – which includes virtually everything I’ve picked up over the years with the name Lightnin’ Hopkins on it. And especially the Herald sessions of 1954. Early Mornin’ Boogie

Lightnin’ on video – from the 1967 documentary “The Blues According to Lightnin’ Hopkins,” by Les Blank. With Billy Bizor on harmonica (low volume on this one, so crank it up).

Another great clip from ’67 – Mojo Hand…

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:

I guess it wouldn’t be Christmas without Elvis crooning his way through some seasonal standard.  And I had a hard time choosing among my favorite Elvis Christmas songs.  But I settled on Here Comes Santa Claus, because it seems to have a rockabilly rhythm even without the King – and I can’t resist a perfectly placed “well-a-well-a” in an otherwise hum-drum holiday song.  So slap this little nugget on the stereo as you prepare a nice meal of fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches for your family this Christmas… It’s a great way to remember the man who thought of it first. Here Comes Santa Claus/Elvis Presley

A couple of posts ago I waxed poetic about the mighty Hammond B3 organ.  You can find a wide range of recordings by the master of the B3, Jimmy Smith – big band, small combo, blues, gospel, pop – so it shouldn’t surprise you that his 20-page discography includes a pretty fine holiday collection called “Christmas Cookin’.”   Here Smith joins guitarist Quentin Warren to roast Santa’s chestnuts (well, maybe slow-boil them) in the warm, soulful sound of the classic organ combo.  If I were making the rounds on Christmas Eve, I’d stop at Jimmy’s Place and go no further. Santa Claus is Coming to Town/Jimmy Smith

What is it about an ethereal harp playing a classic Christmas song?  And no, I’m not talking about the innards of a piano.  I’m talking about the Mississippi saxophone as played by one of its greatest practitioners – Charlie Musselwhite.  Charlie bends a few notes that I didn’t know you could bend on a basic diatonic harmonica, and even manages to throw in that big, throaty vibrato you tend to hear more often on songs about murder and prison rather than odes to virgins and shepherds.  But it works… because there’s nothing more soulful than a big man alone with his blues harp (and maybe a bottle or two) on Christmas. Silent Night/Charlie Musselwhite

When I was a kid, my friend’s dad got all liquored up and stole a Christmas tree out of the parking lot of Montgomery Ward (which has since gone out of business, so I can finally speak out about this).  It’s a sad story with kind of a happy ending – after all, the family did have a tree for Christmas.  But it reminds me of another cautionary tale about what happens when the old man pours a little too much rum in his nog.  And this one comes to us from Commander Cody, a guy who knows a thing or two about the dangers of Old Demon Alcohol (he was banned from Letterman for getting trashed, and his last album was titled “Dopers, Drunks and Everyday Losers”). Daddy’s Drinking Up Our Christmas/Commander Cody and his Lost Planet Airmen

Even junkie be-boppers like Christmas songs.  Take Charlie Parker, who once said that jazz was all about “playing clean and hitting the pretty notes.”  Well if that’s the case, what better vehicle for a giant of jazz than White Christmas, which certainly has more than its fair share of pretty notes.  This take was recorded in 1948 at the Royal Roost night club in New York City – hardly the place where people went to hear Christmas carols.  But Bird tears into it like it’s Ko Ko or Donna Lee or any other original he came up with to showcase his legendary chops on alto sax.   For the few be-bop hipsters remaining on the planet, this is the only White Christmas that matters! White Christmas/Charlie Parker

Here’s a little tip for those of you who play in bar bands:  learn a Christmas song that you won’t be embarrassed to play.  Our band learned this next one in about 15 minutes – and that included 10 minutes of arguing.  Which is not to say it’s a piece of fluff.  In fact, it’s a towering achievement by Emery Williams Jr., better known as Detroit Junior.  A native of Arkansas, Williams began his career as a journeyman blues piano player in Flint, Michigan, and eventually landed in Chicago, where he cut a single for Chess and played in Howlin’ Wolf’s band for seven years.  He passed away in 2005, but left us this holiday classic that practically howls with Christmas joy. Christmas Day/Detroit Junior

I like a lot of space in my music, so I was never a big fan of the Phil Spector “Wall of Sound” treatment –  which I guess includes Bruce Springsteen (sorry, Gary!).  But let’s face it, the holiday season is not a very subtle time of year.  And even though Spector throws the kitchen sink and several other fixtures into this one, he still manages to preserve the majesty of ex-wife Ronnie’s voice, which seems to exist somewhere between the playground and the red light district.  Sure, you could speculate whether “Frosty the Snowman” is code for something far more nefarious… But I’d rather take this one at face value and assume Phil and Ronnie had a nice, uneventful Christmas that year. Frosty the Snowman/The Ronettes

At this point you may be asking, what’s your favorite holiday song?  (Hey, you stuck with me this far!)  Here’s one I have no problem listening to all year round.  Led by Cissy Houston (mother of some up-and-comer named Whitney), the Sweet Inspirations were the back-up singers of choice for artists ranging from Aretha Franklin and Wilson Pickett to Elvis Presley and Van Morrison.  This cut was recorded in 1969 at the fabled Muscle Shoals Sound Studio and features the deep southern soul of Eddie Hinton on guitar.  It’s an American classic by any measure, but sounds especially sweet this time of year.  Merry Christmas, y’all! Every Day Will Be Like A Holiday/The Sweet Inspirations

Gold-framed photos (hand-colored) from the collection of Charles Auerbach

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Guitar hero Richard Thompson made this point in spades several years ago when he released a set of live recordings on his own boutique label that he only half-jokingly titled “1000 Years of Popular Music.” The CD kicks off with a 13^th Century “round” and eventually gets around to covering Oops!… I Did It Again by Britney Spears.

The cover song seemed to reach its peak, at least in terms of significance, in the 1940s and ‘50s. At that time, songs recorded by black R&B and blues artists were typically segregated onto so-called “race” labels – Modern, Aladdin, Savoy, etc. But some of those artists started covering songs by white honky tonkers – for example, Bull Moose Jackson’s Why Don’t You Haul Off and Love Me, a cover of a 1949 country hit by harmonica player Wayne Raney – and aspiring white rockers began perfecting their own form of musical thievery.

Of course, this whole cross-pollinating thing led to what may be the defining moment in 20^th Century music – Elvis Presley’s cover of a little ditty by Arthur “Big Boy” Crudup, That’s All Right Mama.

For the most part, the covers by white artists pale in comparison to the originals, but there are a few exceptions. Here’s the original version of The Train Kept A-Rollin’, by jump-blues bandleader Tiny Bradshaw: The Train Kept A-Rollin’ (Tiny Bradshaw)

Now here’s the cover by an especially dangerous rockabilly band from the Fifties, the Johnny Burnette Trio: The Train Kept A-Rollin’ (Johnny Burnette Trio)

Johnny Burnette Trio

I’d argue that the Trio kicked it up a notch or two, fueled by Johnny’s well-placed screams and Paul Burlison’s gut-bucket guitar. And I won’t even bother with the far more popular version by Aerosmith, which ranks a distant fourth in my book (a Columbus bar band came in third).

Quick aside about those screams: Apparently, Burlison liked to place his lit cigarette on the loose end of one of the strings sticking out from the head of his guitar. Band is tearing it up onstage… Johnny backs into the lit cigarette… screams bloody murder… crowd goes wild… rest is rockabilly history.

There are far more examples of definitive originals by black artists. If you’re only familiar with Elvis’ cover of Hound Dog, brace yourself… the original by Big Mama Thornton will make you forget all about The King’s version: Hound Dog

A mutant offspring of the cover is the “answer song,” which also peaked around the same time. It’s a fairly simple concept, and I’ll let this response to Big Mama’s Hound Dog speak for itself… Bear Cat

You get the idea… The accuser is Rufus Thomas, who was a mainstay on Memphis’ fabled Stax-Volt label throughout its glory years. Here’s another answer song from the label’s catalog, with Jeanne & the Darlings take on Sam & Dave… Soul Girl

The Rolling Stones started out as little more than a decent cover band, doing their own versions of Chicago blues standards. Here they put their stamp on a classic by Muddy Waters… I Just Want To Make Love To You

The Beatles also cranked out more than a few covers, including a version of this original by soul singer Arthur Alexander, who was one of John Lennon’s favorites (he reportedly had a jukebox that only played Alexander’s 45s)… Anna (Go To Him)

Alexander also was covered by the Stones (You Better Move On) and spent years in obscurity before he was rediscovered in Cleveland, driving a school bus. He put out a strong comeback album – “Lonely Just Like Me” – before passing away in 1993.

Today, it seems like indie rockers, hip-hoppers and country hit-makers are lined up to pay tribute to anyone from Marvin Gaye to the Grateful Dead. But much of those tribute songs are totally unnecessary and only serve to send the listeners back to the originals. A few rise above the fray, like Bob Dylan’s cover of a Hank Williams tune from the 2002 Grammy-winning tribute, “Timeless.” Now I’ll just come out and admit that I’m not a big fan of Dylan’s recent vocal stylings (he makes Billie Holiday’s final performances sound too polished). But I like how he wheezes his way through this one (great phrasing) as his ace band drags Hank into a west Texas dance hall… I Can’t Get You Off Of My Mind

During the summer months, you can’t miss the steady parade of tribute bands coming to an ampitheater near you – covering well-worn songs by the Beatles, the Stones, the Eagles, Fleetwood Mac… even U2 and the Dave Matthews Band. These bands take boomers back to days when they could get a contact high at most rock concerts (although that tradition seems to live on at jam-band shows).

But that’s not quite the same as musicians trying to reinvent the songs they love… and maybe even create something a little better (or at least different) in the process.

Oh, and if you’re still wondering what Richard Thompson did with Britney Spears… Oops!… I Did It Again

A few favorite covers…

Actually, just picking the right song to cover is a creative process that can say a lot about a band or musician. Here are a few covers that head off in different directions from the originals.

Let’s start with the oldest – Milk Cow Blues. Kokomo Arnold recorded the original back in 1930, and it’s one of those tunes that country musicians pounced on right away, probably because of the lyrics. It’s been covered by many artists – Robert Johnson (as Milkcow’s Calf Blues), Elvis at Sun Studios (as Milkcow Blues Boogie), Willie Nelson, Ricky Nelson, the band Nelson (strike that last one)… but my favorite is a western swing version from 1941 by Johnnie Lee Wills, brother of Texas legend Bob. Back then, it was a much shorter walk from blues to country, and Wills’ singer barely takes a step. He’s Cotton Thompson, a long-forgotten fiddle player (the world’s first blue-eyed soul singer?). Kokomo’s original comes first, then the cover.Milk Cow Blues (Kokomo Arnold/Johnnie Lee Wills)

The title of Young Man’s Blues is a little misleading, because neither of the following two versions falls neatly into the blues category. The originator is Mose Allison, really a jazz guy who played a lot of blues-based songs, and a keen observer of the human condition. The imitator is The Who, from the 1970 album Live at Leeds. Now I’m not a huge fan of everything The Who put out, but I like how they reworked the original – transforming it from a laid-back lament into a defiant rocker… Roger Daltrey is one pissed-off young man!Young Man’s Blues (Mose Allison/The Who)

Johnny Cash has been covered by hundreds of musicians of every stripe – roots-rockers, hillbillies, punks, metalheads… And roots-music explorer Ry Cooder has made an entire career out of reinventing other people’s songs. This next one is the flip side of The Who’s approach – Cooder takes Cash’s signature “Tennessee Three” treatment and slows it down… and in the process, turns it into something far more ominous (we’re not quite sure where this train is heading). I especially like the instrumentation on this cover – just mandolin, piano (the late Jim Dickinson, a Memphis icon) and upright bass.Hey Porter (Johnny Cash/Ry Cooder)

If their recent reissues proved anything, the Beatles are an even bigger draw today than they were back in 1964. But their songs haven’t been covered by other artists as much as you might think. Could be that the Beatles catalog is considered sacred canon by many musicians – or maybe it’s just too damn hard to improve on the originals. But that didn’t scare off The Holmes Brothers, who have developed a strong following with their unique brand of gospel-infused R&B. This one knocks me out every time I hear it – a soulful take on an old Beatles favorite.And I Love Her (The Beatles/The Holmes Brothers)

Musicians seem to have an easier time covering Dylan… might have something to do with the demo-like quality of albums like “The Basement Tapes” with The Band, which gave us the original version of Going to Acapulco. The cover shows up 40 years later on the soundtrack to “I’m Not There” – a surreal look at various incarnations of Dylan throughout his career. I was unimpressed with most of the soundtrack, but this one stands out as the Tucson band Calexico paints a desert soundscape behind the stunning voice of Jim James (My Morning Jacket). Better than the original? You be the judge.Going to Acapulco (Bob Dylan/Jim James & Calexico)