Editorials

In July of 1954

A ‘good ballad singer’ auditions

It had to start somewhere. Everything has a start. Even the universe had a beginning--or so science now says, echoing Genesis. So why can't we argue that rock-'n'-roll had its Big Bang in July of 1954? Sixty years ago this month.

That's when a young truck driver and aspiring crooner visited a Memphis recording studio to do a song. He'd been there before, to pay his $3.98 (plus tax) to sing into a mike, and make a record for his mama. It was her birthday and all. (Yes, sir/ma'am, I have the money right here in mah pocket.)

A secretary at Sun Studios listened to the young truck driver sing, and made a note in her book: "Good ballad singer. Hold." She then spent months trying to convince the boss to give the young man another try, this one with a recording that might actually be distributed.

Finally, in July of 1954, the boss figured he'd follow up with the kid, and brought him in for a session.

Just exactly what happened next is anybody's guess. The story has grown all foggy over time. Memory will do that as it melds into folklore. Maybe even those who were there don't recall the train of events exactly. Which is what happens when you're asked a bazillion times to tell the story of a famous episode you didn't know would become famous when it happened.

Maybe the session really wasn't going all that well. Maybe the musicians--a bass player named Bill Black and a guitarist named Scotty Moore picked to back up the young comer--didn't click at first. The kid in front of the microphone was said to be shy to a fault.

But at one point the kid, the good ballad singer, picked up his acoustic guitar and started strumming. It was a blues song that had been making the rounds for a while, and had already been remade and refolded and repackaged a couple times by black artists. The other musicians in the studio might have recognized the beat, which could explain why they fell in on time. Maybe the producer really did tell them to stop and start over, so he could push the Record button.

And the strumming started.

It was a simple riff. Janga, janga, janga. No drums. Because no drums were needed when the good ballad singer could strum like that. The musician on the electric guitar hit a few high licks. The bass thumped. On time.

The voice was knock-down, drag-out bluesy, but somehow without a scratch in it. The producer liked it because the singer was a white kid who sounded black. (In early radio interviews in Memphis, disc jockeys felt the need to ask him where he went to high school. Which was a way of making his race obvious to the audience without having to ask. That way, DJs could indulge in a little racial-profiling of their own.)

All these years later, the song recorded that day in July of 1954 still seems . . . cool. It's still a hit with a lot of us. And not just because we've heard it time and again by now. But mainly because the kid behind the mike sounds as if he's having fun.

That's all right, mama

That's all right with you . . . .

Yes, if the song were being recorded today, the singer might leave out the dee-dee-dees in the middle, but this was the summer of 1954. It'd been only a year since the Korean War--excuse us, Police Action--had ended. And kids liked those dee-dee-dees in the middle of their songs.

Then, barely two minutes later, the song was over. It ended as it began. With that strumming as the other musicians backed off. Janga, janga, janga.

That's All Right has been called the first rock-'n'-roll song. Yes, there are other claims to that much coveted title. Fans of Bill Haley might have a word or two to say to those of us who claim rock-'n'-roll got its real start that day in that Memphis studio. Not to mention fans of any number of black singers, including Ray Charles and Fats Domino, just to name two.

But in July of 1954--60 years ago--Elvis Presley took his turn behind the mike. Surely everyone can agree that rock-'n'-roll would never be the same after that. At least that's our much considered editorial opinion. Which is why, Dear Reader, we'll celebrate this month as the 60th anniversary of rock-'n'-roll. And play a certain song on a continual loop for the rest of July just for kicks. The way they did for so many weeks in 1954.

Editorial on 07/14/2014

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