The 50th Anniversary Of The Summe r Of Love -The Heart Of The San Francisco Fillmore Night, Circa 1967

The 50th Anniversary Of The Summer Of Love -The Heart Of The San Francisco Fillmore Night, Circa 1967

Scene: Brought to mind by one of the songs in this compilation, The Jefferson Airplane’s Fillmore West-driven classic wa-wa song, Someone To Love.

It wasn’t my idea, not the way I was feeling then although I had “married” them under the stars one night, one late June night, in this year of our summer of love 1967. Married Prince Love (a.k.a. Joshua Breslin, late of Olde Saco High School Class of 1967, that’s up in Maine) and Butterfly Swirl (a.k.a. Kathleen Clarke, Carlsbad High School Class of 1968, that’s down south here in California), my “family” as such things went on the merry prankster yellow brick road bus that brought us north to ‘Frisco. I had only “adopted” the Prince here on Russian Hill one day when he was looking for dope. Before that I had traveled all through the great western blue-pink night, as my North Adamsville corner boy friend, Peter Paul Markin, would say from Ames, Iowa where I got “on the bus,” the Captain Crunch merry prankster bus).

I brought Butterfly and Lupe Matin (her Ames “road” name then although now she is going under the name Lance Peters. No, don’t get the idea she has gone male, no way, no way in freaking hell and I have the scars on my back to prove it. It’s just her, well, thing, the name-changing thing, and her real name anyway is Sandra Sharp from Vassar, that’s a high–end New York college for women, okay) up here for a serious investigation of the summer of love we kept hearing about down in Carlsbad where we camped out (actually we looked out for the estate of a friend, or maybe better an associate, of our “leader,” Captain Crunch, as care-takers). Yes, the “old man,” me, Far-Out Phil (a. k. a. Phil Markin, North Adamsville Class of 1964, that’s in Massachusetts, okay) married them but I was not happy about it because I was still not done with Butterfly myself. Only the residual hard-knocks North Adamsville corner boy in me accepted, wise to the ways of the world, that Butterfly had flown from me.

It was all Captain Crunch’s idea, although Mustang Sally (a. k. a. Susan Stein), if she was talking to the Captain (a. k. a Samuel Jackman) just then, which was always a sometime thing lately since she had taken up with a drummer from one of the myriad up-and-coming “acid rock” bands that had sprouted out of the Golden Gate night, The Magic Mushrooms, and the Captain was not pleased, not pleased at all, probably was the real force behind the idea. The idea? Simple enough, Now that they, the they being the thousands of young people who had fled, fled a millions ways, west, were about creating a merry prankster yellow bus world on the hills of San Francisco the notion that Prince Love and Butterfly Swirl were “married” under the sign of “Far-Out Phil and would have now have a proper bourgeois “wedding reception” was impossible. Celebrate yes, no question. Celebrate high and hard, no question. But the times demanded, demanded high and hard, some other form of celebration. And that is where the Captain (or, as seemed more and more likely once more facts came out, Mustang Sally) hit his stride.

Here is the “skinny.” The Captain knew somebody, hell the Captain always knew somebody for whatever project he had in mind, connected to the Jefferson Airplane, a hot band that was going to be playing at the Fillmore that next Saturday night. And that somebody could get the Captain twenty prime tickets to the concert. [Everybody suspected that the deal was more nuanced than that, probably the tickets for a batch of Captain-produced acid, or in a two-fisted barter, a big pile of dope, mary jane most likely, from somebody else for something else and then a trade over for the tickets. That high finance stuff was never very clear but while nobody worried much about money, except a few hungry times out in some god-forsaken desert town or something, there usually was plenty of Captain dough around for family needs.] So the Captain’s idea was that this concert would be an electric kool-aid acid test trip that was now almost inevitably part of any 1967 event, in lieu of that bourgeois (the Captain’s word, okay) wedding reception. And, see, the Prince and Butterfly, were not to know because this was going to be their first time taking some of that stuff, the acid (LSD, for the squares, okay). And once the acid hit the Captain said, and the rest of us agreed, there would be no sorrow, no sorrow at all, that they had not had some bogus old bourgeois wedding reception.

Saturday night came, and everybody was dressed to the nines. (Ya, that’s an old Frankie Riley, North Adamsville corner boy leader, thing that I held onto, still do, to say hot, edgy, be-hop.) Let’s just concentrate on the “bride” and “groom” attire and that will give an idea of what nines looked like that night. Butterfly, a genuine West Coast young blonde beauty anyway, formerly hung-up on the surfer scene (or a perfect-wave surfer guy anyway), all tanned, and young sultry, dressed in a thin, almost see-through, peasant blouse. According to Benny Buzz, a kind of connoisseur on the subject, it wasn’t really see-through but he lied, or close to it, because every guy in the party or later, at the concert, craned his neck to look at the outline of her beautiful breasts that were clearly visible for all to see. And while she may have been “seek a new world” Butterfly Swirl she was also an old-fashioned “tease,” and made no apologies for being so. She also wore a short mini-skirt that was de rigueur just then that highlighted her long well-turned legs (long flowing skirts were to come in a little later) and had her hair done up in an utterly complicated braid that seemed impossible to have accomplished piled high on her head, garlands of flowers flowing out everywhere, and silvery, sparkling, starry mascara eyes and ruby-red, really ruby red lips giving a total effect that even had the Captain going, and the Captain usually only had his eyes, all six of them, fixed on Mustang Sally.

And the “groom”? Going back to Olde Saco roots he wore along with his now longer flowing hair and less wispy beard an old time sea captain’s hat, long flared boatswain's whites, a sailor’s shirt from out of old English Navy times and a magical mystery tour cape in lieu of the usual rough crewman's jacket. A strange sight that had more than one girl turning around and maybe scratching her head to figure out his “statement.” That didn’t however stop them from looking and maybe making a mental note to “try him out” sometime. (By the way, I told the Captain later that the Prince had no idea of making a statement and, being more than a little stoned on some leftover hash that he found around he just grabbed what was at hand).

Now back to the action. In order to “fortify” everyone for the adventure the Captain proposed a “toast” to the happy couple before we left the merry prankster yellow bus to make the one mile trip to the Fillmore. So everybody, including the bride and groom toasted with Dixie cups of kool-aid. The Prince and Butterfly were bemused that, with all the liquor available around the bus, the Captain proposed to use kool-aid for the toast. Well, we shall see. And they shall see.

And they “saw,” or rather saw once the acid (LSD) kicked in about an hour later, more or less. Now what you “see” on an acid trip is a very individual thing, moreover other than that powerful rush existential moment that you find yourself living in it defies description, literary niceness description, especially from a couple of kids on their “wedding night.” So what is left? Well, some observations by “father” Far-Out Phil, now a veteran acid-eater, as I hovered over my new-found “family” to insured that they made a safe landing.

The first thing I noticed was that Butterfly Swirl was gyrating like crazy when the female singer in front of Jefferson Airplane, Grace Slick, started up on their acid rock anthem, White Rabbit. Some of Butterfly’s moves had half the guys in the place kind of male hippie “leering” at her (mainly giving her a sly nod of approval, and making a mental note to check her out later when the dope hit her at the high point in another couple of hours or so). (Remember she had on that diaphanous peasant blouse, and also remember that sexual thoughts, leering sexual thoughts or not, did not fade away when under the influence of LSD. In many cases the sexual arousal effect was heightened, particularly when a little high- grade herb was thrown into the mix.) I thought nothing in particular of her actions just then, many guys and girls were gyrating, were being checked-out and were making mental notes of one kind or another. It is only when Butterfly started to “believe” that she was Alice, the Alice of the song and of wonderland, and repeated “I am Alice, I am alive,” about thirteen times that I moved over to her quickly and gave her a battle-scarred veteran’s calming down, a couple of hits off the Columbia Red that I had just coped from some freak.

And where was Prince Love during the trial by fire honeymoon night? Gyrating with none other than Lance Peters, who you may know as Luscious Lois or seven other names, by who was my main honey now that Butterfly has flown my coop. But don’t call her Lance Peters this night because after a tab of acid (beyond her congratulations kool-aid cup earlier) she is now Laura Opal in her constant name-game change run through the alphabet. Prince Love had finally “seen” the virtues of being with older woman like I had learned back in Ames Iowa time, an older voluptuous woman and although she was wearing no Butterfly diaphanous blouse Prince felt electricity running through his veins as they encircled each other on the dance floor. Encircled each other and then, slyly, very slyly, I thought when I heard the story the next day, backed out of the Fillmore to wander the streets of Haight-Ashbury until the dawn. Then to find shelter in some magic bus they thought was the Captain’s but when they were awoken by some tom-toms drumming out to eternity around noontime found out that they were in the “Majestic Moon” tribe’s bus. No hassle, no problem, guest always welcome. Ya, that is the way it was then. When I cornered, although corned may be too strong a word, the Prince later all that he would commit to was that he had been devoured by Mother Earth and had come out on the other side. That, and that he had seen god, god close up. Laura Quirk, if she is still running under that name now, merely stated that she was god. Oh ya, and had seen the now de rigueur stairway to heaven paved with brilliant lights. She certainly knew how to get around her Phil when the deal went down, no question.

And how did the evening end with Butterfly and me, after I “consoled” her with my ready-teddy herbal remedy? After a search for Prince and Lance, a pissed off search for me, we went over into a corner and started staring at one of the strobe lights off the walls putting ourselves into something of a trance-like mood. A short time later, I, formerly nothing but a hard-luck, hard-nosed, world-wide North Adamsville corner boy in good standing started involuntarily yelling, “I am Alice, I am alive,” about ten times. Butterfly though that was the funniest thing she had ever heard and came over to me and handed me a joint, a joint filled with some of that same Columbia Red that settled her down earlier. And I, like Butterfly before me, did calm down. Calmed down enough to see our way “home” to Captain Crunch’s Crash-Pad where we, just for old time’s sake, spend the hours until dawn making love. (I send my apologies to those two thousand guys at the Fillmore who had made notes to check on Butterfly later. Hey, I was not a king hell corner boy back in the North Adamsville be-bop night for nothing. You have to move fast sometimes in this wicked old world, even when the point was to slow the circles down.) Asked later what her “trip” had felt like all Butterfly could utter was her delight in my antics. That, the usual color dream descriptions, and that she had climbed some huge himalaya mountain and once on top climbed a spiraling pole forever and ever. I just chuckled my old corner boy chuckle.

And what of Butterfly and Prince’s comments on their maiden voyage as newlyweds? They pronounced themselves very satisfied with their Fillmore honeymoon night. They then went off for what was suppose to be a few days down to Big Sur where Captain Crunch had some friends, Captain had friends everywhere, everywhere that mattered, who lent them their cabin along the ocean rocks and they had a “real” honeymoon. A few weeks later Prince Love, now a solo prince, came back to the bus. It seems that Butterfly had had her fill of being “on the bus,” although she told the Prince to say thanks to everybody for the dope, sex, and everything but that at heart her heart belonged to her golden-haired surfer boy and his search for the perfect wave.

Well, we all knew not everybody was build for the rigors of being “on the bus” so farewell Kathleen Clarke, farewell. And just then, after hearing this story, I thought that Prince had better keep his Olde Saco eyes off Lannie Rose (yes she has changed her name again) or I might just remember, seriously remember, some of those less savory North Adamsville be-bop corner boy nights. Be forewarned, sweet prince.

Out In The Be-Bop, Be-Bop 1960s Night- The Great San Francisco Summer Of Love Explosion- In The Heart Of The Fillmore Night

On The 50th Anniversary- The Great San Francisco Summer Of Love Explosion- In The Heart Of The Fillmore Night

“To Be Young Was Very Heaven”-With The 50^th Anniversary Of The “Summer Of Love, 1967” In Mind

By Social Commentator Zack James 

[I was about a decade or so too young to have been washed, washed clean to hear guys like Peter Paul Markin, more on him below, tell the tale, by the huge counter-cultural explosion that burst upon the land (and by extension and a million youth culture ties internationally before the bubble burst) in the mid to late 1960s and maybe extending a few year into the 1970s depending on whose ebb tide event you adhere to. (Markin’s for very personal reasons having to do with participating in the events was May Day 1971 when the most radical forces tried to stop the Vietnam War by shutting down the government and got kicked in the teeth for their efforts. Doctor Gonzo, the late writer Hunter Thompson who was knee-deep in the experiences called it 1968 around the Democratic Party convention disaster in Chicago. I, reviewing the material mostly and on the very fringe of what was what back then would argue for 1969 between Altamont and the Days of Rage everything looked bleak after that.)

Over the next fifty years that explosion has been inspected, selected, dissected, inflected, infected and detected by every social science academic who had the stamina to hold up under the pressure and even by politicians, mostly to put the curse of “bad example” and “never again” on the outlier experimentation that went on in those days. Plenty has been written about the sea-change in mores among the young attributed to the breakdown of the Cold War red scare freeze, black civil rights struggles rights early in the decade and the huge anti-Vietnam War movement later. Part too always a factor maybe even just as reaction like in many generations coming of age, just the tweaking of the older generations inured to change by the Cold War red scare psychosis they bought into. The event being celebrated or at least reflected on in this series under the headline “To Be Very Young-With The Summer of Love 1967 In Mind” now turned fifty was by many accounts a pivotal point in that explosion especially among the kids from out in the hinterlands, away from elite colleges and anything goes urban centers.   The kids, who as later analysis would show, were caught up one way or another in the Vietnam War, were scheduled to fight the damn thing, the young men anyway, and were beginning, late beginning, to break hard from the well-established norms from whence they came.

This series came about because my oldest brother, Alex James, had in the spring of 2017 taken a trip to San Francisco on business and noticed on a passing bus that the famed deYoung Museum located in the heart of Golden Gate Park, a central location for the activities of the Summer of Love as it exploded on the scene in that town, was holding an exhibition about that whole experience. That jarred many a half forgotten memory in Alex’s head. Alex and his “corner boys” back in the day from the old Acre neighborhood in North Adamsville, a suburb of Boston where we all came of age, had gotten their immersion into counter-cultural activities by going to San Francisco in the wake of that summer of 1967 to “see what it was all about.”

When Alex got back from his business trip he gathered the few “corner boys” still standing, Frankie Riley, the acknowledged leader of the corner boys, Jimmy Jenkins, Si Lannon, Jack Callahan, Bart Webber, Ralph Kelly, and Josh Breslin (not an actual North Adamsville corner boy but a corner boy nevertheless from Olde Sacco up in Maine whom the tribe “adopted” as one of their own) at Jimmy’s Grille in Riverdale, their still favorite drinking hole as they call it, to tell what he had seen in Frisco town and to reminisce. From that first “discussion” they decided to “commission” me as the writer for a small book of reflections by the group to be attached alongside a number of sketches I had done previously based on their experiences in the old neighborhood and in the world related to those times. So I interviewed the crew, wrote or rather compiled the notes used in the sketches below but believe this task was mostly of my doing the physical writing and getting the hell out of the way. This slender book is dedicated to the memory of the guy who got them all on the road west-Peter Paul Markin whom I don’t have to mention more about here for he, his still present “ghost” will be amply discussed below. Zack James]              

In the tribute book the reflections of the North Adamsville corner boys come first and my sketches related to the subjects they mentioned were attached after them. In this on-line series I have reversed the order and am putting my sketches, singly, first and the good stuff, their stuff, last.     

CD Review

Classic Rock: 1967, various artists, Time-Life Music, 1988

Scene: Brought to mind by one of the songs in this compilation, The Jefferson Airplane’s Fillmore West-driven classic wa-wa song, Someone To Love.

It wasn’t my idea, not the way I was feeling then although I had “married” them under the stars one night, one late June night, in this year of our summer of love 1967. Married Prince Love (a.k.a. Joshua Breslin, late of Olde Saco High School Class of 1967, that’s up in Maine) and Butterfly Swirl (a.k.a. Kathleen Clarke, Carlsbad High School Class of 1968, that’s down south here in California), my “family” as such things went on the merry prankster yellow brick road bus that brought us north to ‘Frisco. I had only “adopted” the Prince here on Russian Hill one day when he was looking for dope. Before that I had traveled all through the great western blue-pink night, as my North Adamsville corner boy friend, Peter Paul Markin, would say from Ames, Iowa where I got “on the bus,” the Captain Crunch merry prankster bus).

I brought Butterfly and Lupe Matin (her Ames “road” name then although now she is going under the name Lance Peters. No, don’t get the idea she has gone male, no way, no way in freaking hell and I have the scars on my back to prove it. It’s just her, well, thing, the name-changing thing, and her real name anyway is Sandra Sharp from Vassar, that’s a high–end New York college for women, okay) up here for a serious investigation of the summer of love we kept hearing about down in Carlsbad where we camped out (actually we looked out for the estate of a friend, or maybe better an associate, of our “leader,” Captain Crunch, as care-takers). Yes, the “old man,” me, Far-Out Phil (a. k. a. Phil Markin, North Adamsville Class of 1964, that’s in Massachusetts, okay) married them but I was not happy about it because I was still not done with Butterfly myself. Only the residual hard-knocks North Adamsville corner boy in me accepted, wise to the ways of the world, that Butterfly had flown from me.

It was all Captain Crunch’s idea, although Mustang Sally (a. k. a. Susan Stein), if she was talking to the Captain (a. k. a Samuel Jackman) just then, which was always a sometime thing lately since she had taken up with a drummer from one of the myriad up-and-coming “acid rock” bands that had sprouted out of the Golden Gate night, The Magic Mushrooms, and the Captain was not pleased, not pleased at all, probably was the real force behind the idea. The idea? Simple enough, Now that they, the they being the thousands of young people who had fled, fled a millions ways, west, were about creating a merry prankster yellow bus world on the hills of San Francisco the notion that Prince Love and Butterfly Swirl were “married” under the sign of “Far-Out Phil and would have now have a proper bourgeois “wedding reception” was impossible. Celebrate yes, no question. Celebrate high and hard, no question. But the times demanded, demanded high and hard, some other form of celebration. And that is where the Captain (or, as seemed more and more likely once more facts came out, Mustang Sally) hit his stride.

Here is the “skinny.” The Captain knew somebody, hell the Captain always knew somebody for whatever project he had in mind, connected to the Jefferson Airplane, a hot band that was going to be playing at the Fillmore that next Saturday night. And that somebody could get the Captain twenty prime tickets to the concert. [Everybody suspected that the deal was more nuanced than that, probably the tickets for a batch of Captain-produced acid, or in a two-fisted barter, a big pile of dope, mary jane most likely, from somebody else for something else and then a trade over for the tickets. That high finance stuff was never very clear but while nobody worried much about money, except a few hungry times out in some god-forsaken desert town or something, there usually was plenty of Captain dough around for family needs.] So the Captain’s idea was that this concert would be an electric kool-aid acid test trip that was now almost inevitably part of any 1967 event, in lieu of that bourgeois (the Captain’s word, okay) wedding reception. And, see, the Prince and Butterfly, were not to know because this was going to be their first time taking some of that stuff, the acid (LSD, for the squares, okay). And once the acid hit the Captain said, and the rest of us agreed, there would be no sorrow, no sorrow at all, that they had not had some bogus old bourgeois wedding reception.

Saturday night came, and everybody was dressed to the nines. (Ya, that’s an old Frankie Riley, North Adamsville corner boy leader, thing that I held onto, still do, to say hot, edgy, be-hop.) Let’s just concentrate on the “bride” and “groom” attire and that will give an idea of what nines looked like that night. Butterfly, a genuine West Coast young blonde beauty anyway, formerly hung-up on the surfer scene (or a perfect-wave surfer guy anyway), all tanned, and young sultry, dressed in a thin, almost see-through, peasant blouse. According to Benny Buzz, a kind of connoisseur on the subject, it wasn’t really see-through but he lied, or close to it, because every guy in the party or later, at the concert, craned his neck to look at the outline of her beautiful breasts that were clearly visible for all to see. And while she may have been “seek a new world” Butterfly Swirl she was also an old-fashioned “tease,” and made no apologies for being so. She also wore a short mini-skirt that was de rigueur just then that highlighted her long well-turned legs (long flowing skirts were to come in a little later) and had her hair done up in an utterly complicated braid that seemed impossible to have accomplished piled high on her head, garlands of flowers flowing out everywhere, and silvery, sparkling, starry mascara eyes and ruby-red, really ruby red lips giving a total effect that even had the Captain going, and the Captain usually only had his eyes, all six of them, fixed on Mustang Sally.

And the “groom”? Going back to Olde Saco roots he wore along with his now longer flowing hair and less wispy beard an old time sea captain’s hat, long flared boatswain's whites, a sailor’s shirt from out of old English Navy times and a magical mystery tour cape in lieu of the usual rough crewman's jacket. A strange sight that had more than one girl turning around and maybe scratching her head to figure out his “statement.” That didn’t however stop them from looking and maybe making a mental note to “try him out” sometime. (By the way, I told the Captain later that the Prince had no idea of making a statement and, being more than a little stoned on some leftover hash that he found around he just grabbed what was at hand).

Now back to the action. In order to “fortify” everyone for the adventure the Captain proposed a “toast” to the happy couple before we left the merry prankster yellow bus to make the one mile trip to the Fillmore. So everybody, including the bride and groom toasted with Dixie cups of kool-aid. The Prince and Butterfly were bemused that, with all the liquor available around the bus, the Captain proposed to use kool-aid for the toast. Well, we shall see. And they shall see.

In Honor Of The Late Rocker Chuck Berry Who Helped Make It All Possible-*In Honor Of The Late Bo Diddley-"Who Do You Love?", Indeed

Click on the headline to link to a "YouTube" film clip of Bo Diddley performing his classic, "Who Do You Love?"

In Honor Of The Late Rocker Chuck Berry Who Helped Make It All Possible-*In Honor Of The Late Bo Diddley-"Who Do You Love?", Indeed


CD REVIEW

The Best of Bo Diddley, Chess Records, 1997

The last time I had occasion to mention the late Bo Diddley in this space was in connection with a series of interviews and performances along with Chuck Berry, Little Richard and others in Keith Richards' Chuck Berry tribute film "Hail, Hail Rock and Roll." The talk centered, rightly, on the dismal fate of many black recording artists who developed what would become Rock 'n' Roll when the white artists like Elvis took it over and reaped the benefits of a mass audience. Well, those interviews occurred a while ago, back in the 1980's, but Bo's sense of not having been properly recognized I believe remained until his death. Yet, when one thinks of the sounds created by the founders of Rock 'n' Roll can anyone deny that Bo's primal beat was not central to that explosion? I think not.

Here, in one album we have, if not all of Bo's creative work then a good part of it, at least a good place to start. Of course, the classic song Bo Diddley and its offshoots and variations are here. However, the one Diddley song that will probably outlive them all is "Who Do You Love?". Although not a theme song it nevertheless expresses the raw energy of rhythm and blues/ rock/ carib sound like not other. Hell, George Thoroughgood was able to make a whole career on the basis of having covered that song and other of Bo's work (and to be fair, covering the work of Elmore James and Hound Dog Taylor as well).

And that is a good point to finish on. The really great rockers, and Bo is in that company, unlike the one-shot johnnies get covered because their work expresses something that someone else later wishes to high heaven that they had created. (George has been quoted directly on that point.) Finally, I give the same warning here as others have given in their comments about the sameness of this Chess 50th Anniversary CD from 1997 and a current one entitled "The Definitive Bo Diddley Collection" issued in 2007. Get one or the other and save those pennies to get more of Bo's work. "I said- I'm just 22 and I don't mind dying. Who do you love?" Thanks for that line Bo. Kudos


Who Do You Love?
Bo Diddley

I walked 47 miles of barbed wire,
Used a cobra snake for a neck tie.
Got a brand new house on the roadside,
Made out of rattlesnake hide.
I got a brand new chimney made on top,
Made out of human skulls.
Now come on darling let's take a little walk, tell me,
Who do you love,
Who do you love, Who do you love, Who do you love.

Arlene took me by the hand,
And said oooh eeeh daddy I understand.
Who do you love,
Who do you love, Who do you love, Who do you love.
The night was black and the night was blue,
And around the corner an ice wagon flew.
A bump was a hittin' lord and somebody screemed,
You should have heard just what I seen.
Who do you love, Who do you love, Who do you love, Who do you love.

Arleen took me by my hand, she said Ooo-ee Bo you know I understand
I got a tombstone hand and a graveyard mind,
I lived long enough and I ain't scared of dying.

Who do you love (4x's)

by Bo Diddley

*'In Honor Of The Late Rocker Chuck Berry Who Helped Make It All Possible-ast Man Standing', Indeed- Jerry Lee Lewis

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Jerry Lee Lewis Doing "Whole Lotta Shakin' Going On". Wow.

In Honor Of The Late Rocker Chuck Berry Who Helped Make It All Possible-ast Man Standing', Indeed- Jerry Lee Lewis

DVD REVIEW

Jerry Lee or Elvis? What is your choice? Here is mine.

Last Man Standing, Jerry Lee Lewis in Concert, New York, 2006

Elvis, Chuck Berry, Carl Perkins, Bo Diddley. Yes those are the men who created Rock ‘n’ Roll, as we know it. However in that list do not forget one Jerry Lee Lewis. Fate dealt him an uneven hand due to the foibles of his personal life (the subject of a movie, “Great Balls of Fire”, with Dennis Quaid) but his form of rockabilly/boogie woogie piano-driven music and madman presentation must be placed in the mix of influences that drove the best of early rock.

If for no other reason that that he is one of the few ‘still standing' from that generation it was nice to see what “The Killer” could do in his 71st year in concert in New York City in 2006 with a host of guests some old, some young. Clearly off these performances he has lost a couple of steps. Hell the kind of energy that Jerry Lee produced in the 1950's definitely had a short shelf life. There are some nice clips from that period interspersed with the concert, by the way. Think about that opening scene in the movie “High School Confidential” of 1958 where he is playing like a madman on the back of a flatbed truck as he heads toward the local high school. Whoa.

Despite the lost of energy Jerry Lee can still give out on some tunes like in the old days. Take his duo with R&B master Solomon Burke on “Who Will the Next Fool Be”. How about Tom Jones on “Green, Green Grass of Home”. Or Norah Jones on Hank Williams’ “Your Cheating Heart”. Or Jerry on Chuck Berry's "Roll Over, Beethoven”. Or his classic “ Crazy Arms”. And on and on. In fact the covers of his old material and some Hank Williams material highlight this concert. If you have a couple of hours better take advantage of it. Then you will know what it was like when men (and women) played rock 'n' roll for keeps.

Blame It On The Late Sam Phillips, Okay?

CD REVIEWS

25 Sun Rock’n’ Roll Classics, various artists, Sun Records, 2004



Howlin’ Wolf, Roscoe Gordon, Rufus Thomas and an assortment of black blues notables in the early days. Elvis, Carl Perkins, Johnnie Cash and Jerry Lee Lewis and an assortment of white rockabilly notables in the mid to late 1950’s. What do they all have in common? Well, one thing, and make that a decisively important one thing, is that they passed through Mr. Sam Phillips’ Sun Records recording studio in Memphis, Tennessee on the way to some kind of career. Amazing. With the possible exception of Chess Records in Chicago, a label that moreover concentrated on the blues, no other studio can claim so much as the catalyst for what became rock & roll in the mid- 1950’s, the youth of the present writer and of his Generation of ‘68.

That said, the impetus for this review of a compilation of Sun Record rock and roll artists is a Public Broadcasting Station’s American Masters series that highlighted the ten years existence of that recording studio. There the format included a generous round of ‘ talking heads’ interspersed with some performances, in this case, to honor the 50th Anniversary of the founding of the Sun Records (1950). The ‘talking heads’ in that documentary include several of the artists highlighted here.

This documentary also included many of the old Sun artists who did not attain the stardom of those mentioned in the first paragraph yet who nevertheless had some interesting things to say about the meaning of the Sun Record experience. A recurring theme is that mainly it got them the hell off the farms and out of the fields, especially those damn cotton fields. And they had fun and got paid for it. And met girls! How can you beat that? My take on this is that they were good old boys who got more out of the Sun, if not financially then musically, than they had originally bargained for. And this entire film trip down memory lane, not without a ew barbs, was presided over by the impresario himself, the late Sam Phillips.

As to the present compilation of songs some comments are worth mentioning. As with all such compilations there is some unevenness in the quality of performance. For every Jerry Lee Lewis and "Great Balls of Fire" or Carl Perkins and "Blue Suede Shoes" there are any number of one-shot johnnies like Warren Smith doing the Johnny Cash- written "Rock and Roll Ruby" or Sonny Burgess doing "Red-Headed Woman", both fine if singular efforts. Then there are the merely imitative- of Elvis, Jerry Lee or whoever- like Bill Riley. And then those who never got released like Jack Earls and "Let's Bop". Well, today they all attain immorality collectively with this compilation. Rock on.


25 Sun Rare Blues Classics, various artists, Sun Records, 1997

Most of the points made above about fates of the rock and roll artists apply here as well, except the obvious question of race, both in how the artists were treated personally and financially by Phillips, and the audiences that the artists could perform before that does not get dealt with adequately in the documentary mentioned above except by Rufus Thomas in his fight to trace the roots of rock & roll back to a black musical influence. As to the present compilation some comments are worth mentioning. As with all such compilations there is some unevenness in the quality of performance.

Rufus Thomas on "Married Woman" is fine. As are the performances of Earl Hooker and Sleepy John Estes in his pre-folkie days. Tops for me is Little Milton. One should also note the house musicians like Billy Emerson ( a fine artist in his own right) and hovering around on that old piano the late Ike Turner (can anyone forget his work on "Rocket 88", not on this CD but get it).

I would add this note below that I am doing to all my Sun Record-related reviews taken from the review of the Sun Record documentary because it is appropriate in virtually every instance.

"A note on sound- no, not of this American Masters production which like virtually all PBS productions is technically of high quality. No, I am referring here to the sound in Sun Studio. I do not believe in ghosts or other such things but tell me this. Why, for example, does Johnny Cash in his Sun Records days sound like god’s own creation when on work from other recordings I can take him or leave him? And that goes for Elvis, Carl, Jerry Lee and the others as well. The gods and goddesses of Rock and Roll were smiling on that joint- thanks."

Once Again On Sun Records

25 More Blues Classics, various artists, Sun Records, 2002

Most of the points that I have made in reviewing the fates of the rock and roll artists that passed through the portals of Sun Recording studio apply here as well, except the obvious question of race both in how the artists were treated personally and financially by Phillips and the audiences that the artists could perform before that does not get dealt with adequately in the PBS documentary on the history of Sun Records except by Rufus Thomas in his fight to trace the roots of rock and roll back to the black musical influence. As to the present compilation some comments are worth mentioning. As with all such compilations there is some unevenness in the quality of performance.

Rufus Thomas on "Save That Money" is fine. As are the performances of Earl Hooker and James Cotton, Tops for me is Frankie Ballard’s "Trouble Down The Road". One should also note the house musicians like Billy Emerson (a fine artist in his own right) and hovering around on that old piano the late Ike Turner (can anyone forget his work on "Rocket 88", not on this CD but get it). Mainly though the first volume of this series (25 Rare Blues Classics) is more varied and flows better. Here there is a fair amount of imitation of Muddy Water’s and Howlin’ Wolf’s sound (not bad men to imitate, that is for sure) by musicians who, for the most part, like James Cotton and Walter Horton were just getting warmed up in their careers. They get better later.

I would add this note below that I am doing to all my Sun Record-related reviews taken from the review of the Sun Record documentary because it is appropriate in virtually every instance.

"A note on sound- no, not of this American Masters production which like virtually all PBS productions is technically of high quality. No, I am referring here to the sound in Sun Studio. I do not believe in ghosts or other such things but tell me this. Why, for example, does Johnny Cash in his Sun Records days sound like god’s own creation when on work from other recordings I can take him or leave him? And that goes for Elvis, Carl, Jerry Lee and the others as well. The gods and goddesses of Rock and Roll-and the blues- were smiling on that joint- thanks."

The Birth Of Rock 'n' Roll

The Birth Of Rock 'n' Roll


One For The Money: The History Of Rock And Roll, Bill Haley and various artists, Intrepid, 2005



Over the past several months I have spend some time reviewing recording artist from my youth, the 1950’s, the youth of the Generation of ’68 that is now taking a certain political beating once again from those who cringe at the notion that we could have fundamentally changed the way we do the collective business of running this society. But that is a story for another day. What I want to do here is recommend this very nice DVD that in capsule form addresses all the issues, or at least all that I think are important, about the genesis of rock 'n' roll, its meaning for my post-World War II generation growing up in the 1950’s and how the forces of social reaction put, or tried to put, a cap on the natural rebelliousness of the original rock 'n' roll sound.

This documentary addresses affirmatively the issue of the roots of rock and roll as deriving from the blues and later in the early 1950’s rhythm and blues from the likes of Louis Jourdan and Big Joe Turner. It further pays, as it must, tribute to the early efforts of the likes of Sam Phillips and his Sun Record operation in Memphis and that of the Press Brothers Chess Records in Chicago to create breakout music with a distinctive sound that was not Frank Sinatra or Doris Day, the music of our parents’ generation. It also pays tribute to the promoters of rock like Alan Freedman who was a key in popularizing rock for the wider white audience that was necessary to make it a national and international phenomenon. Most importantly, this film documents the very conscious attempt by parents, religious and governmental figures abetted by the record industry to bring rock under control with the creation of the “teen idols” like Ricky Nelson Fabian, Bobby Vee, etc. at the end of the 1950’s. As I have pointed out elsewhere we had to go through that experience to really appreciate the difference when groups like The Rolling Stones hit the scene in the 1960’s. We were waiting to exhale, and none too soon.

Probably the most important reason to view this DVD though is to get, under one roof, a look at all the various performers who made up the original rock ensemble. Big Joe, Bill Haley, Elvis, Jerry Lee, Buddy, Bo Diddley, Chuck Berry and on and on. Like I say if you want a quick one hour overview of an important cultural phenomenon of our collective history this is the one for you. Then branch out to review the individual performers. Fifty years later a lot of this stuff still sounds good. And that is not just me saying that but young kids, desperate for a sound that jumps at them, that I have run into lately as well. Kudos.

Inventing Elvis

Commentary



Elvis-The First Year-1954, narrated by Jack Perkins, 1992



Elvis Presley a rock and roll hero of my youth, if not to me personally then to many I knew especially girls, is the subject of this in-depth look at the first year that Elvis began inventing himself as the 'King'. Jack Perkins’s somber narration and idiosyncratic style sets the tone for a thoughtful look back at Elvis’s trials and tribulation on the road to stardom. We have the full ‘talking head’ treatment here from Elvis’s surviving band member, Scotty Moore, to ex-sweethearts, motel owners, agents, radio producers and announcers, cooks, bakers and candlestick makers. Basically anyone who crossed his path in 1954 in that first tough year out on the road.

And what a road it was. Playing small clubs, high school auditoriums, the Louisiana Hayride and every where he could get his foot in the door Elvis stretched and clawed his way to success, and apparently was not a bad guy to hang around with then either. He, moreover, exhibited all the virtues that small town white Southerners liked in the 1950’s, except maybe those sideburns and, just maybe, swinging that pelvis just a little too much when their daughters were around.

An interesting part of this presentation is an attempt to place the roots of Elvis’s music in the context of his time and place. And, as has been expressed elsewhere as well, that included black musical influences in the deeply segregated South. Sun Records Sam Phillip’s old adage comes true through Elvis- finding a white boy who could sing black. This segment only adds to something that I have been arguing for the past few years- the roots of rock and roll owe more than a little to black blues musical influence – think in this regard of the importance of Big Joe Turner’s Shake, Rattle and Roll, also produced in 1954. But Elvis certainly rode the wave to great effect and this little valentine to him is good for those who like musical history with their music. For those who need just the music look elsewhere.

Elvis's Sun Sessions Commemorative CD, Elvis Presley, 1990

As to this present compilation of Elvis's Sun sessions that give flesh to the above DVD review some comments are worth mentioning. As with all such compilations there is some unevenness in the quality of performance, even in the case of Elvis. Some of this is calculated with the use of alternative takes to beef up the size of the compilation. However, any way you cut it these Sun sessions and that studio played to Elvis’s strengths musically. Starting with the classics It’s All Right, Mama, Blue Moon of Kentucky and Good Rockin’, Tonight and through such ballad covers as Blue Moon and Harbor Lights Elvis demonstrates his versatility in song style and that distinctive intonation that no one else in the Sun stable could duplicate (and they tried, believe me). Elvis fanatics will want this one just like every other thing that has been put out in his name. But the real reason to get it is to hear pure Elvis when the man, the moment and the environment all came together when Rock 'n' Roll was young.

The following is a comment made in connection with the Public Broadcasting System's documentary about Sun Records entitled Good Rockin' Tonight. I have added it to all comments on Sun Records artists that I have reviewed over the past several months

A note on sound- no, not of this American Masters production which like virtually all PBS productions is technically of high quality. No, I am referring here to the sound in Sun Studio. I do not believe in ghosts or other such things but tell me this. Why, for example, does Johnny Cash in his Sun Records days sound like god’s own creation when on work from other recordings I can take him or leave him? And that goes for Elvis, Carl, Jerry Lee and the others as well. The gods and goddesses of Rock and Roll were smiling on that joint- thanks.

Good Rockin', Tonight- The Legacy of Sun Records

DVD REVIEW



Good Rockin' Tonight- The Legacy of Sun Records, PBS American Masters, 2001



Howlin’ Wolf, Roscoe Gordon, Rufus Thomas and an assortment of black blues notables in the early days. Elvis, Carl Perkins, Johnnie Cash and Jerry Lee Lewis and an assortment of white rockabilly notables in the mid to late 1950’s. What do they have in common? Well, one thing, and make that an important one thing, is that they passed through Mr. Sam Phillips’ Sun Records recording studio in Memphis, Tennessee on the way to some kind of career. Amazing. With the possible exception of Chess Records in Chicago, that moreover concentrated on the blues, no other studio can claim so much as the catalyst for what became rock and roll in the mid- 1950’s, the youth of the present writer and of his Generation of ‘68.

The format here, as in most of the Public Broadcasting Station’s American Masters series, is to have a generous round of ‘ talking heads’ interspersed with some performances, in this case, to honor the 50th Anniversary of the founding of the Sun Records (1950). An added touch here is that some of the performances by the old Sun recording artists are covered by more recent performers like Paul McCartney and Kid Rock.

The ‘talking heads’ here also include many of the old Sun artists who did not attain the stardom of those mentioned in the first paragraph yet who nevertheless had some interesting things to say about the meaning of the Sun Record experience. A recurring theme is that mainly it got them the hell off the farms and out of the fields, especially those damn cotton fields or out of those dead end jobs. And they had fun and got paid for it. And met girls. How can you beat that? My take on this is that they were good old boys who got more out of the Sun, if not financially then musically, than they had originally bargained for. And all of this trip down memory lane is presided over by the impresario himself, the late Sam Phillips.

Along the way there are discussions, sometimes heated, about the roots of rock and roll- black blues or white country. That will never, ultimately, get resolved although I think the case for the blues gets stronger the more I see and read about the early 1950’s and the shift of the blues from a country sound to a city sound. But that can be argued another day. What we have here is recollections, funny and bittersweet, by those who were either one-shot johnnies or were ‘put on the shelf’ by one Sam Phillips. That is the kind of influence that he had for that one golden decade of the 1950’s. Another nice touch here is that the one- shot johnnies not only get their ‘hit’ covered by currently popular musicians but they get one last 15 minutes of fame by belting out their own classics. Who can forget Lonely Weekend or Rock and Roll Ruby after this retrospective to speak nothing of Good Rockin’, Tonight.

A note on sound- no, not of this American Masters production which like virtually all PBS productions is technically of high quality. No, I am referring here to the sound in Sun Studio. I do not believe in ghosts or other such things but tell me this. Why, for example, does Johnny Cash in his Sun Records days sound like god’s own creation when on work from other recordings I can take him or leave him? And that goes for Elvis, Carl, Jerry Lee and the others as well. The gods and goddesses of Rock and Roll were smiling on that joint- thanks.

** Out In The Be-Bop Night- First Comes Love, Then Comes Marriage, Then Comes X With a Baby Carriage-In Honor Of The 50th Anniversary Of The Pill

This comment  can act as my commentary on today's other entry from Women and Revolution in honor of the 50th anniversary of The Pill. 

Markin comment:

This year, as many of you may be aware, marks the 50th anniversary of the introduction of the Pill. (If you need any further explanation for that term then perhaps you should skip this little piece.) The Pill that heralded in the s-xual revolution of the 1960s to the joy (and relief) of many, the yawns of a few, and the fervent scorn of those with traditional religious or philosophical scruples on the matter of human reproduction. In short though, s-x now no longer had to be absolutely tied in with procreation, and with fear and loathing. That said, I am trying to offend no one's sensibilities here, although I make no apologies for being glad, glad as hell, for the Pill and would encourage as many scientific breakthroughs as possible to make it even safer and easier. This little screed rather is more, since we are children of the 1960's and came of age, most of us anyway, by 1960, about our woeful ignorance of sex, the actual acts of sex and their consequences. (There I said it. Sex. Sensitive souls can take shelter elsewhere.)    

Someone recently told me a story that placed this notion in stark relief, and hit a nerve that required me to make, no, impelled me to make this commentary. On a trip, some kind of group social outing up into New Hampshire, a state that has a younger marriage eligibility age than Massachusetts, a young teenage couple, deeply in love, in love its seems the old-fashioned 1940s movies way that way it was described to me, but probably too young for marriage anyway, decided on a whim to get married. Off they go to some Podunk town up there seeking a Justice of the Peace. They find him and fill in the paperwork. Before the ceremony the "been through it all before" JP asked whether the young couple were "expecting," you know, in the family way. Here is the kicker though, their reply, "Expecting what?" On reflection, once they got the gist of what the JP meant, they, innocently I am sure, also said, "we don't know about that stuff." The laughing, but wise, old JP told the kids to come back in a year, or so, and he would be more than happy to marry them.  

Ya, that's a cute story and I still chuckle over but, my friends, I will argue that you and I could tell such stories as well. Well, maybe not about getting all the way to the altar clueless but nevertheless filled with every kind of misinformation, every kind of fear tactic and every kind of prohibition. All while our hormones were raging, raging to the point of distraction, out of control. I will make my own public disclosure here. Did I learn about sex from my parents giving me careful information about the birds and the bees, seeing that they had plenty of experience having given birth to three sons? No. Did I learn about the do's and don't of sex from the Roman Catholic Church of my youth. Hell no, well, about the do part anyway. No, I learned about it "on the streets" (and in the locker rooms) just like most of you. And later, much later and more interestingly, from some women friends (and the Karma Sutra). Whoa. Let's just put it this way, I thank a disapproving god for the Pill back in those young and careless days. Ya, that The Pill.   

Waiting To Exhale- Pop Music in 1960

CD REVIEW

The Heart of Rock ‘n’ Roll-1960, various artists, Time-Life Music, 1995

In the late 1960’s a number of my friends from the Generation of ’68 who considered themselves part of the counter-cultural movement argued, sincerely I believe, that music, by which they meant rock or maybe folk/rock music was the revolution. According to this political logic the various summers of love, be-ins, Woodstocks, etc., if sustained, would create the atmosphere for social change without the need for either a political overthrow of the current capitalist system or doing any heavy political lifting to overturn society’s values and create the ‘new man and woman’. Probably the most articulate expression of that concept was expounded by the likes of John and Yoko Lennon. Well, life has demonstrated once and for all the fantastic nature of that assertion. Which is just a roundabout way for me to argue my point here that while music may not be the revolution some music may be ‘counter-revolutionary’. Let me explain that further.

Whatever the roots of rock and roll- country, rockabilly, blues, rhythm and blues, etc. the sound produced was clearly a dramatic departure from the likes of Ms. Patti Page and her "How Much Is That Doggie In The Window?" and songs of that ilk that clogged up the airwaves in the early 1950’s. Rock got people, and by this I mean young ‘impressionable’ people like myself, moving. Moving much more than our parents liked. In short, getting caught up in the ‘sexual’ sensual beat of things like "Shake, Rattle and Roll" or "Good Rockin’ Tonight". And there was a palpable backlash from adults and other authorities to this. While teens might have then begun to have more disposable dollars to spend that money came from parents, for the most part. The record companies and other responded, at least in part, to that reality. Hence this truly scary compilation of tunes from 1960 that, frankly, put my hair on ends when I listened to it recently.

Don’t get me wrong. I listened, like millions of other teenagers, to this music and liked some of it but in listening to it in combination back-to-back with Carl Perkins' "Classic Hits" for Sun Records I want my money back. No, not from Time-Life but from whoever imposed this stuff on us in 1960. Okay, compare the rock classics of 1955 like Perkins’ "Blue Suede Shoes" or "Everyone Wants To Be My Baby" and The Theme From “A Summer Place” by Percy Faith and the band, Connie Steven’s "Sixteen Reasons" or Bobby Vee’s "Devil or Angel". Need I go on or say more. Unless you are a nostalgically-inclined modern popular music historian then pass this by and wait for The Rolling Stones or the Beatles to come by in a few years. Enough said

*The Last Man Standing, Indeed- A Jerry Lee Lewis Encore

Click on title to link to "YouTube's film clip of the trailer for "Last Man Standing".

CD REVIEW

Last Man Standing, Jerry Lee Lewis and other artists, Shangri-la Records, 2006

The last time we heard the name Jerry Lee Lewis in this space (see above) was in connection with a rave review of his star-studded concert in New York City in 2006 also entitled “The Last Man Standing”. I was not aware at the time I wrote that review that there was a CD connected with the DVD. This CD also gets a rave review from these quarters. The last paragraph details some of the highlights of this CD. However, I can tell you right now to save your old eyes- get this thing. It is not the fire-balling of Jerry Lee's youth but virtually from start to finish it is some very nice work. If you need to go back to the Fifties and hear his original work there are plenty of his greatest compilations elsewhere. Here are a couple of words on this one.

Apparently in putting together this album every musical artist who has ever been anything, every wanted to be anything or who will be in the various musical Halls of Fame signed on to play with “The Killer”. Let’s make this clear though- Jerry Lee is in charge here- the other artists are basking off his reflected glory. Ya, he is an old man and he has lost a step, and maybe he has not learned all of life’s lessons but he still rocks &rolls, does rockabilly and country rock’s with the best of them.

Highlights here concerning some of life’s lessons that old Jerry Lee has learned, as reflected in some of the lyrics, are his duo with Willie Nelson on “Couple More Years”, his duo with Keith Richards on “That Kind of Fool” (a take-off on his old classic- “Who Will The Next Fool Be”) and his duo with Eric Clapton on “Trouble In Mind”. To show that he can still rock- listen to the duo with Kid Rock (yes, that Kid Rock of rapper fame) on “Honky Tonk Woman”. If you need to hear rockabilly and boogie-woogie then the classic “Hadacol Boogie” with Buddy Guy will keep you moving. Enough said, except the production values on this CD are very good, as well.

1950's Oldies But Goodies- Roy, Carl and Elvis

Here are few revivals out of our past, if you grew up in the 1950's.

Roy The Boy

Black and White Nights, Roy Orbison, Roy Orbison Productions, 1987

In another entry in this space I have reviewed Roy Orbison’s In Dreams that is a more ‘talking heads’ approach to his life and music. And that too has its merits. However, when we talk of Roy Orbison then the music is what we really want to deal with. And here one gets all the Roy the Boy one wants, and more. Backed by the likes of Bruce Springsteen, Elvis Costello, Tom Wait and Jackson Browne Roy goes through a litany of his greatest hits from Claudette to Pretty Woman.

But wait, what about the back up singers that were mandatory to late 1950’s rock music. Well, how about k.d. Lang, Bonnie Raitt and Jennifer Warnes. Well, not bad for backup, right? That tells you exactly what you are getting here. The best. Plus a bonus, bonus in some very, very fine licks by T-bone Burnett. Outstanding here are Sweet Dreams, Baby (with Springsteen on lead vocals along with Roy) and the finale Pretty Woman (with an incredible series of riffs by all the guitarists). Yes, Sweet Dreams, Baby.


How About Them Blue Suede Shoes

Carl Perkins- King of Rockabilly and Friends, Carl Perkins, 1985

Everyone who cares now knows that the roots of rock and rock came from a few sources, country blues, city blues, and rhythm and blues of the Big Joe Turner sort and from the white South rockabilly from the likes of Jerry Lee Lewis and the artist reviewed here- Carl Perkins. Over the long haul I believe that the key is that Turner rhythm and blues on Shake, Rattle and Roll that defines the roots of rock and roll but that is just for argument’s sake. Carl Perkins can lay claim to a piece of that magic with Blue Suede Shoes (latter covered by Elvis, adding a great deal to his career, of course).

Whether Perkins is a key figure is the history of rock and roll beyond that initial contribution is also an open question. However, no one can question that here in a 30th Anniversary show in London to an audience that was perhaps more appreciative than a home-grown one at that time no one can doubt that he rocks the rockabilly with the best of them. As usual with this format we have the guests- and quite good ones in the likes of Roseanne Cash, Ringo Starr, Eric Clapton and George Harrison as well as a nice traveling band. Additionally there were some serious dancers, dressed in appropriate 50's style, in the audience kicking up a storm. The hit here is, without a doubt, the finale with a collective all out rendition of Blue Suede Shoes.

Inventing Elvis

Elvis-The First Year-1954, narrated by Jack Perkins, 1992

Elvis Presley a rock and roll hero of my youth, if not to me personally then to many I knew especially girls, is the subject of this in-depth look at the first year that Elvis began inventing himself as the King. Jack Perkins’s somber narration and idiosyncratic style sets the tone for a thoughtful look back at Elvis’s trials and tribulation on the road to stardom. We have the full ‘talking head’ treatment here from Elvis’s surviving band member, Scotty Moore, to ex-sweethearts, motel owners, agents, radio producers and announcers, cooks, bakers and candlestick makers. Basically anyone who crossed his path in 1954 in that first tough year out on the road.

And what a road it was. Playing small clubs, high school auditoriums, the Louisiana Hayride and every where he could get his foot in the door Elvis stretched and clawed his way to success, and apparently was not a bad guy to hang around with then either. He, moreover, exhibited all the virtues that small town Southerners liked in the 1950’s, except maybe those sideburns and, just maybe, swinging that pelvis just a little too much when their daughters were around.

An interesting part of this presentation is an attempt to place the roots of Elvis’s music in the context of his time and place. And, as has been expressed elsewhere as well, that included black musical influences in the deeply segregated South. Sun Records Sam Phillip’s old adage comes true through Elvis- finding a white boy who could sing black. This segment only adds to something that I have been arguing for the past few years- the roots of rock and roll owe more than a little to black blues musical influence – think in this regard of the importance of Big Joe Turner’s Shake, Rattle and Roll, also produced in 1954. But Elvis certainly rode the wave to great effect and this little valentine to him is good for those who like musical history with their music. For those who need just the music look elsewhere.