HOMECOMING SH-BOOM: THE LEATHERNECKS

HOMECOMING SH-BOOM THE LEATHERNECKS

OCTOBER 30, 1954

At a 1956 Christmas party my 45 year old aunt, devout fan of Perry Como, got smashed, did the chicken, broke into sobs and admitted to no one in particular she wanted to get in Presley’s pants.

As everybody knows, they wouldn’t show Elvis from the hips down on the Sullivan show. It was the year he had 8 consecutive million sellers. “Love Me Tender.” “Anyway You Want Me.” “Love Me.” “Heartbreak Hotel.” “I Want You, I Need You, I Love You.” “Too Much.” “Don’t Be Cruel.” And “Hound Dog,” which at last count has alone sold over six million copies. At various times in 1956 nearly 50% of R.C.A. Victor’s record business was the result of kids shelling out as much as seventy thousand bucks a day for Presley records.

You could feel the tension in the air. Everybody was going a little nuts,. Guys; on the street comer began snarling, sprouting sideburns, and turning up their collars. Girls screamed, pissed, creemed,' fainted. Magazines, newspapers, and parents verbally attacked Elvis implying he was some kind of sex-maniac dope-pushing jack-the-ripper-sadist or -worse. But old El had arrived. Why? Because ...

Well, my first impulse is ta say the hellwithit. Nobody can really say when rock began. But, this is how it looks to

“Rock Around The Clock” by Bill Haley and his Comets was the first rock song to make number one on the national pop charts. 1955 was-the year. So you can say the era of rock began there. Or . . . 1954 — “Gee” by the CTOVS came out making a mild splash. Joe Turner recorded “Shake, Rattle, and Roll” which was promptly covered by Haley and his Vomits, “Sh-Boom”, cut by the Chords and covered by the Crew Cuts, was the first rock record to get on the pop charts. So you can say 1954 was the year it all st^rted.\Or.., I can open my vault and out of my super-vast collection of goodies show you a somewhat worn 78 with the Atlantic label A-1105. It’s “Money Honey” recorded by Clyde McPhatter and The Drifters. Released in 1953. Look but don’t touch. (78s break easy.) Or, if you still want to go back, Billy Ward and the Dominoes made “Sixty Minute Man” in -1951. And if that doesn’t satisfy you, a different Domino, Fats, recorded “The Fat Man” in 1949. To hell with the Mississippi Sheiks. As the Fat Man said, “Call it what you want. 1 been playin’ that kind of music all my life,”

A definition of rock? Sure. Name a particular song and I’ll define rock in terms of that song. That’s about as far .as you .can go; defining it in terms of a record or the style of a particular performer. Now, what caused rock? That’s a little different.

Somewhere along in 1950 or 51 the structure of pop music collapsed. The school' of crooners, dominated by Frank Sinatra • throughout the forties, were out, and so was Sinatra. (At least, temporarily, until he dropped the crooning bit and came back as the “Swingin’ Sinatra.”) Anyway, crooners were finished. The record buying public, which now, included more young people than ever before, was restless. Tired of pop pap and abstractions, they wanted something new. Novelty numbers cropped up by the score. Mitch Miller was having the time of his life. Red Buttons was doing his “Ho Ho Song”. “The Thing” by Phil Harris was a big hit. The public, craving something palatable, had brief love affairs with Eddie Fisher and Johnnie Ray. The Mambo came and went and the void persisted. The major recording companies, who for so long had ruled the pop field, were at a loss to fill this void. Up through the cracks and onto the pop charts C&W tunes would creep. Months passed. Hunger grew. Around the country more and more oeoole were turning an ear to R&B. Things simmered. Then one day in July 1954, ‘Sh-Boom”, rock was born.

Primarily at first a black movement, the white recording industry knew that it had to join it or, perhaps, go down the financial drain. So, when the little guy would get something good rolling the establishment would crash in, cover the song, and outsell the original mostly because they had better distribution and promotional facilities.

The McGuire Sisters covered “Goodnight Sweetheart” by the Spaniels and “Sincerely” by the Moonglows. Pat Boone covered “I’ll Be Home”, “At My Front Door,” “Tutti-Frutti”, “Ain’t That A Shame”; all originally the material of black artists. “Sh-Boom” had numerous covers with the Crew Cuts’ Mercury version as the best smelling. (After “Sh-Boom” the Crew Cuts kept coming back with lousy flopping records like “Chop Chop Boom” and “Bam Slam” trying to capitalize on the “Sh-Boom” success.)

Covering was rampant through 1955, the year Little Richard, Bo Diddley, Chuck Berry; Fats Domino, The Penguins, The Platters, and many other. black performers broke into the pop arena. But they had talent and the major studios couldn’t go on covering them up forever. By the end of 1956 covering was a dead practice. It had become less and less profitable as the public more and more demanded the original thing-

Original rock, the kids found, was a vital, immediate, total experience, not only because of the beat but because, in many cases, of the lyrics. Too much music of the forties had built-in buffers. The songs told of something that had already happened like “I Couldn’t Sleep A Wink Last Night”. Or they told of .something that was going to happen: “Benny’s Coming Home On Saturday”. Or something nebulous like Somewhere “Over The Rainbow”. But rock was a now experience. It was ready, set, go man go to the social hall, juke joint, hang out, slap your nickle in the slot, get out on the floor, come get your kicks. Rock urged you on, commanded. It wasn’t: will you dance with me Henry? It was: don’t say maybe, “Dance With Me Henry”. It was “Rip It Up”. “Speedo.” “Come Go With Me.” Come on, baby, “Let The Good Times Roll”. The “now” lyrics added excitement. The rata tats, obe dos, do whas, dodawata, dum dums, and doo wops added spontaneity and blended in between the beats to help give that “total sound” effect.

Alan Freed may have coined the term rock and roll but. rock itself was spawned out of the heart of America’s black culture. It fairly dominated the pop field in 1955. The detractors said it was just a temporary craze. Just a fad,, like the Mambo. It would pass. And it might have. Except for one thing. Elvis Aaron Presley.

Remember, it’s early 1956, and Elvis is just as strange a name for a singer as the Beatles or The Electric Frog Nuts was in 1964. “Heartbreak Hotel”, released in February ’56, slashed its way to the top of the pop charts in record time. It might have sold more than a million that year but the competition was too tough: 7 other Presley songs sold a million too. Whatever semblance of pop the major studios had managed to maintain .was demolished. The mainstream of American music Would never be the same.

Elvis Presley. To really understand it you had to be a teenager at the time and even then maybe you couldn’t explain it. Elvis wailed, slurred words, chopped syllables/ growled, moaned, groaned and it all seemed so damned natural. If you had to pick one reason for Elvis’ success it would have to be his voice. Rhythmic, fluid, his voice could modulate like somebody throwing a speed shift. He could spit words out like a machine gun as in “Hard Headed Woman” or give out with a growling howl as in “Hound Dog”. He could wail blues as in “Heartbreak Hotel”. His voice could be husky and sensual as in “Love Me Tender” or it could yearn and cry out at you as in “How’s The World Treating You?”

But this was the early Elvis. Not the . one we know today. Still, present rock owes a debt to Elvis as he in turn owes a debt to the black performers, especially Arthur Crudup, who paved the way for him and without wh om, he might have become just another country singer. Or remained a truck driver 11.

Dewey McCulloch

Ric Siegel, our ace photographer, went to the first Michigan pop festival of the year — at East Lansing, May 24 ->g>? and came back with a bunch of pictures and the following document, scribbled on the last issue of Creem. It was his first pop festival, his first attempt at writing for the magazine. As if you couldn’t tell.

i don’t care who these people are if they look like a star i’ll photograph them and figure it out later, my ego is becoming submerged in the crowd .. . the oppressive heat.. .

the crowd keeps growing, coming closer! i maintain by staying above it all i’ve found a secluded spot to sit and dig the music the sun comes and goes but the crowd keeps coming what does it take to be a pop star?? i’m losing my mind

people are moving by the fojce of their personalities, if you’re bold enough the marshall-pigs-don’t hassle thinking you’re important i’d like to be sitting in a forest painting the scene around and around and around me : is feels good to be writing on Joe Cocker he’s been good to me if you know what: r mean could i write lyrics that other | people could relate to? i’m dying!!

if i could just go to sleep

i wouldn’t need to wear my pink button that everybody has but nobody reads , go sailing away & away CELEBRATE! my pink button gets in the way of my camera the crowd does too i need to be free i’m a photographer not a writer i need to be with people that know me!

go sailing

away and away sailing into a keen City which nobody's ever visited,where

always

it's . V -

Spring)and everyone’s an love and flowers pick themselves

CELKBHAT&!

I’m on the way back to Detroit stopped at a rest area to collect my thoughts — if it’s possible.

the concert started with my trip or. the trip started the concert but i’m 100 yards or miles or days away from the stage sittin on a fence the crowd flashes by — growing One familiar face “whyaren’tyou takingpictures? can you get me back stage?”

“ineed afriend togetmeoff this fence are you a friend?

willyouwatchmycameraequipment whileigo tothejohn? i can’t stand the vibes from people whenitakemycamerainthe johni’llsee whaticandoafteriget myself backstage do my hands seem rubbery to you?”

four marshall-pigs at different places refuse to understand my need to get away from.the crowd-mob it’s still growing -pushing - a marshall-pig defending a back stage gate twenty people need to be back stage i push through my camera in front of me the crowd-mob is yelling “louder” the speakers are blown by the first group that spade chick does the most outasite weird electronic sounding things with her voice rotary connection is over how do i relate this scene the crowd the heat Iff the music to the people who aren’t here my camera and i aren’t enough i should take movies call it woodstock the movie didn’t show this i sat in a chair with popcorn watching it wadleigh couldn’t make me feel — like this

there’s a little kid running onto the stage with Sebastion there’s too many people on stage to get the picture push and be pushed fuck you marshall-pig i gotta get a picture the kid is talking into a mike while john is singing the crowd — john — god dig him i tell people he’s being paid five grand to do it

they believe me my pink button makes me an authority

| i’m dying of thirst all the non-creative ■y ego maniacs who are wearing a certain !: - kind of tee shirt (their uniform) are || hung-up playing pig |f i’m hassled for the 275th time about being on stage there’s a || beautiful - woman - girl - child - groupee?

freak - chick with a beer I i’ll not die of thirst the vibes from ,

I this chick are fantastic i’m in love

again and Kantner just kicked shit out of | one of his monitors releaving some 11: - frustrations .over the most fucking awfull sound system i’ve ever tried to hear ; who can i kick?

Grace looks at him with compassion I they’re singing “we can be together”

5 and they are

but nobody really hears the lyrics and

now i’m convinced beyond any doubt that

deday and dave write stories for the

creative intellectual few who can

understand what the lyrics mean

the crowd-mob don’t “got to revolution”

they want to touch a star

five people in five minutes tell me

what they’d give to eat Grace

one of them’s a girl

if two dozen people read dave’s Volunteers

review and understood it — really

understood what revolution means motherfuckers

than i’m a moron and the incredible,

outasite chick is bummed out cause i’d

rather be sailing

away and away sailing into a keen city which nobody’s ever visited, where always it’s

spring and everyone’s

in love and flowers pick themselves

than fighting with the self important

marshall-pigs and the growing — pushing

crowd-mob on" stage that won’t allow me

to relate to the artists

in the only creative way i can so i

get higher and push my way by with my

camera & rap and eventually my favorite

favorite

fave-or-ite englisb rock n roll band arrives but three fourths of the crowd have gone except on stage and where did those groupees come from they haven’t been around all day it’s just like the . eastown and the sound system is wiped out and it sounds like rod Stewart is making no sounds just moving his lips even though i’m touching distance from him then he does one of his fancy mike twirls only he’s'trying to bust up one of the fucked monitor speakers and i know he’s singing but it ain’t getting out but they do it anyway and its groovy for a minute

but the mass of rock fans dig where me and the rest of the groupees are sittin and want some of our action and the stage is a mess and.i split

and the incredible outasite chick is gone but she left me her number and she lives in birmingham and maybe she’ll be as cool tomorrow and Sunday at east lansing won’t be a total loss and i’ll NEVER go to another rock festival but kickapoo creek Illinois is next week and maybe i can get some more dope.