For Robert Johnson this is a brave and ambitious piece of philosophical revisioning. For Brenda Lee, it’s shaming in setting out all that I knew knew. After seeing her on the Red Foley show, which he must have done , it’s hard to believe Buddy Holly didn’t pack it in and go into lawn furnishing.
What a great piece. I have read it entire three times now, and kept discovering new things. I especially appreciate the insight about this music's dialectic with the evangelical church (but of course!) Also....what a KNOWING little girl Brenda Lee came off as....I kept being reminded of that great movie "The Bad Seed."
About "the fucking Beatles" -there was quite the clash of approaches with this number by Chuck, John and Yoko on the Merv Griffin Show, 1972... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0aoeIh21_QU -note in the comments, everyone thanking the sound engineer for turning Yoko down.
Jimmy Page recorded some sides with Jackie DeShannon around '65 and used a drone effect on "Dream Boy". Maybe you could write a high falutin essay about Jackie DeShannon, too?
I enjoyed your article. There are so many ways to look at this period -- wheels within wheels, if you like. I grew up in this era, and later, I became a musicologist of sorts -- writing music reviews for a number of print and online publications, and like you, trying to connect the dots. So here's my perspective.
You"blame" the Beatles, which is valid to a point, but I'd be more inclined to blame the entire music industry, which was caught by surprise by Chuck Berry, Little Richard, Jerry Lee Lewis, Elvis Presley, and so on, but very quickly found a way to both cash in on their popularity and also tame them. Teenagers became the new market in the late 1950s. Presley didn't sing "Baby Let's Play House" for teenagers. And in 1955, my white, geeky teenage self was dirty-bopping to Hank Ballard and the Midnighters singing "Work With Me, Annie," and "Annie Had a Baby" in a vacant classroom during lunch hours when I was in the eighth grade. (Parenthetically, my partner of choice, whose name escapes me some 70 years later, DID have a baby a couple of years later, and never finished high school. Fortunately, I was much too geeky and shy to act on my various impulses.)
I was a huge Presley fan in grade school, but he didn't write his own material -- and neither, to my knowledge, did Brenda Lee. They were allowed their eclecticism and personal tastes to an extent, until the cash registers started ringing, and the suits took over. Presley covered a lot of R&B originals, and covered them well -- but I wrote him off in the late 50s, even before the horrible movie soundtracks, when he commanded the airways with "Teddy Bear," and "Won't You Wear My Ring Around Your Neck." I was a teenager, but I didn't swallow that bogus teenager marketing shit. It's a long way from "Money Honey," or "Lawdy, Miss Clawdy," to wanting to be someone's teddy bear.
Likewise, Jerry Lee Lewis was tamed (or rather, ostracized) for living the life that he was singing about. Another one of my favorites, Dion, was required to sing mopy ballads like "Teenager in Love." I loved Dion's voice, and his insouciance, but I held my nose (or blocked my ears) when that one came on the radio. Dion was actually a doo wop and an R&B guy, but his record labels forced him into pablum pop, and only allowed him to emote every once in a while. (I was delighted to discover Dion's superb blues catalogue years later, when he was finally marginalized enough (and had enough of a cult following) that he could sing what he felt, and loved.
As for Brenda Lee -- yes, she was a force of nature, and had enormous potential -- but record execs were quick to undermine her real potential. And if she didn't write her own music, she was a victim the the A&R department. What all the labels were looking for at that point was artists who were young, white, photogenic, spirited, but safe. You know, music that the kids liked, but that didn't scare the parents too much. And you really can't mention Brenda Lee without mentioning Wanda Jackson, a contemporary of Lee's, and a powerhouse rockabilly singer who was not commercially "adaptable" and had to go into country music (like Brenda Lee) in order to get record company support and find an audience.
I guess what I'm theorizing here is that the music industry had pretty much emasculated popular music by the time the Beatles came along. The music was there, the artists were there, but the only musical sparks (with rare exceptions) were generated by black artists, who were never marketed expressly for teens, and were rarely "safe.' And it was no coincidence that both the Beatles and the Rolling Stones drew chiefly on black American music initially, and reintroduced it to white American audiences.
Another thing that could be addressed (the wheels within wheels) was the role of women in popular music -- and then in country music, where artists such as Brenda Lee found a second career. In country music, you could be a "outlaw" if you were Waylon Jennings, or Johnny Cash, but as a female artist, you were generally expected to "Stand By Your Man." And as one record exec put it some years later, if you were a female performer, it helped if you had a nice ass.
For Robert Johnson this is a brave and ambitious piece of philosophical revisioning. For Brenda Lee, it’s shaming in setting out all that I knew knew. After seeing her on the Red Foley show, which he must have done , it’s hard to believe Buddy Holly didn’t pack it in and go into lawn furnishing.
Meant to say ‘never knew.’
Thanks, Greil. Mary was too shy to reply here herself, but she wants us to tell you she couldn't have done it without you.
What a great piece. I have read it entire three times now, and kept discovering new things. I especially appreciate the insight about this music's dialectic with the evangelical church (but of course!) Also....what a KNOWING little girl Brenda Lee came off as....I kept being reminded of that great movie "The Bad Seed."
Wow! (from an appreciative boomer)
About "the fucking Beatles" -there was quite the clash of approaches with this number by Chuck, John and Yoko on the Merv Griffin Show, 1972... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0aoeIh21_QU -note in the comments, everyone thanking the sound engineer for turning Yoko down.
Jimmy Page recorded some sides with Jackie DeShannon around '65 and used a drone effect on "Dream Boy". Maybe you could write a high falutin essay about Jackie DeShannon, too?
I enjoyed your article. There are so many ways to look at this period -- wheels within wheels, if you like. I grew up in this era, and later, I became a musicologist of sorts -- writing music reviews for a number of print and online publications, and like you, trying to connect the dots. So here's my perspective.
You"blame" the Beatles, which is valid to a point, but I'd be more inclined to blame the entire music industry, which was caught by surprise by Chuck Berry, Little Richard, Jerry Lee Lewis, Elvis Presley, and so on, but very quickly found a way to both cash in on their popularity and also tame them. Teenagers became the new market in the late 1950s. Presley didn't sing "Baby Let's Play House" for teenagers. And in 1955, my white, geeky teenage self was dirty-bopping to Hank Ballard and the Midnighters singing "Work With Me, Annie," and "Annie Had a Baby" in a vacant classroom during lunch hours when I was in the eighth grade. (Parenthetically, my partner of choice, whose name escapes me some 70 years later, DID have a baby a couple of years later, and never finished high school. Fortunately, I was much too geeky and shy to act on my various impulses.)
I was a huge Presley fan in grade school, but he didn't write his own material -- and neither, to my knowledge, did Brenda Lee. They were allowed their eclecticism and personal tastes to an extent, until the cash registers started ringing, and the suits took over. Presley covered a lot of R&B originals, and covered them well -- but I wrote him off in the late 50s, even before the horrible movie soundtracks, when he commanded the airways with "Teddy Bear," and "Won't You Wear My Ring Around Your Neck." I was a teenager, but I didn't swallow that bogus teenager marketing shit. It's a long way from "Money Honey," or "Lawdy, Miss Clawdy," to wanting to be someone's teddy bear.
Likewise, Jerry Lee Lewis was tamed (or rather, ostracized) for living the life that he was singing about. Another one of my favorites, Dion, was required to sing mopy ballads like "Teenager in Love." I loved Dion's voice, and his insouciance, but I held my nose (or blocked my ears) when that one came on the radio. Dion was actually a doo wop and an R&B guy, but his record labels forced him into pablum pop, and only allowed him to emote every once in a while. (I was delighted to discover Dion's superb blues catalogue years later, when he was finally marginalized enough (and had enough of a cult following) that he could sing what he felt, and loved.
As for Brenda Lee -- yes, she was a force of nature, and had enormous potential -- but record execs were quick to undermine her real potential. And if she didn't write her own music, she was a victim the the A&R department. What all the labels were looking for at that point was artists who were young, white, photogenic, spirited, but safe. You know, music that the kids liked, but that didn't scare the parents too much. And you really can't mention Brenda Lee without mentioning Wanda Jackson, a contemporary of Lee's, and a powerhouse rockabilly singer who was not commercially "adaptable" and had to go into country music (like Brenda Lee) in order to get record company support and find an audience.
I guess what I'm theorizing here is that the music industry had pretty much emasculated popular music by the time the Beatles came along. The music was there, the artists were there, but the only musical sparks (with rare exceptions) were generated by black artists, who were never marketed expressly for teens, and were rarely "safe.' And it was no coincidence that both the Beatles and the Rolling Stones drew chiefly on black American music initially, and reintroduced it to white American audiences.
Another thing that could be addressed (the wheels within wheels) was the role of women in popular music -- and then in country music, where artists such as Brenda Lee found a second career. In country music, you could be a "outlaw" if you were Waylon Jennings, or Johnny Cash, but as a female artist, you were generally expected to "Stand By Your Man." And as one record exec put it some years later, if you were a female performer, it helped if you had a nice ass.
I believe I saw Brenda Lee in Nashville in the mid-80’s, at a Harpeth Hall school graduation. Or it might have been another event at the school.