History of Rock 'n' Roll in Ten Songs (23 page)

Nik Cohn,
Pop from the Beginning
(London: Weidenfeld and Nicholson, 1969), published in the United States as
Rock from the Beginning
(New York: Stein and Day, 1969); revised as
Awopbopaloobop Alopbamboom
(London: Paladin, 1972).

Jim Miller, ed.,
The Rolling Stone Illustrated History of Rock & Roll,
rev. ed. (1976; New York: Rolling Stone/Random House, 1980). The 1992 edition, with editorial credit to Anthony DeCurtis,
Jim Henke, and Holly George-Warren, is not recommended.

Guy Peellaert and Nik Cohn,
Rock Dreams
(New York: Rogner and Bernhard, 1982).

“Yahweh came down”: Genesis 11:5, as translated by David Rosenberg in Harold Bloom,
The Book of J
(New York: Grove Weidenfeld, 1990), 53.

Colin B. Morton (Carlton B. Morgan) and Chuck Death (Jon Langford), “Bobby Dylan Part 2,”
Great Pop Things,
collected in
Great Pop Things
(London: Penguin, 1992; expanded ed. Portland, Ore.: Verse Chorus Press, 1998), 31 in the U.S. ed.
Great Pop Things
began as a weekly strip in the U.K. in 1987, in
Record Mirror
and the
New Musical Express,
continued at
LA Weekly
and
New City
(Chicago), and ceased regular publication in 1998, though it still pops up here and there.

Pete Townshend quoted in Jann Wenner, “The Rolling Stone Interview,”
Rolling Stone,
14 September 1968, 15.

Bob Dylan, “It’s Alright, Ma (I’m Only Bleeding),” from
Bringing It All Back Home
(Columbia, 1965), in “Made in America,”
The Sopranos,
written and directed by David Chase (HBO, 10 June 2007).

Dennis Potter quoted in Michael Sragow, “BBC Pro Shows ABC’s of Dream Writing,”
San Francisco Examiner and Chronicle,
29 March 1987. In his musicals, people don’t just break into song. Old songs descend on them like visitations. The original recordings come out of the characters’ mouths and change them. The actors are mouthing the words, but it feels not as if something is being faked but as if something real but previously unknown is being revealed; the songs work as subconscious dialogue. “It
became a technical problem for me,” Potter said in 1994 to the BBC TV host Melvyn Bragg, two months before he died. “It was about how do I get that music from way down there, bang up in front. And then I thought they lip-synch things. I wasn’t breaking a mold, I found the ideal way of making these songs real.” See “Living for the Present: Dennis Potter’s Last Interview,”
Guardian,
6 April 1994.

David Lynch, in Chris Rodley,
Lynch on Lynch: Revised Edition
(London: Faber and Faber, 2005), 126–27.

W. T. Lhamon, Jr.,
Deliberate Speed: The Origins of a Cultural Style in the American 1950s
(Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1990), 93. “Their performance,” Lhamon writes of the people making “Tutti Frutti” in 1955, “took on a licentious exuberance commensurate to their release from restraint. Having found a strategy for eluding the censors, public and private, their speed and joy in the song memorialize both their freedom and the trick the song pulls off: ramming its underground reality to the mainstream airwaves. This is the quintessence of the sort of complex Samboing Little Richard enacted.”

Richard Nevins, Dick Spottswood, and Pete Whelan, “Recollections,” liner notes to
The Return of the Stuff that Dreams Are Made Of
(Yazoo, 2012). “A collection of 46 classics of American traditional music recorded in the 1920s,” including Uncle Dave Macon and His Fruit Jar Drinkers’ 1927 “Sail Away Ladies” (Nevins: “with no hesitation or qualification whatsoever the greatest record of all time . . . No other record has ever combined in one performance such high degrees of joyous celebration, uninhibited exuberance, motive expressiveness [especially in the tune’s transcendent high part], pure power, and infectious rhythm”), Allison’s Sacred Harp Singers’ “I’m a Long Time Traveling Away
from Home,” also 1927, Henry Thomas’s 1929 “Charmin’ Betsy,” and Geeshie Wiley’s 1930 “Last Kind Words Blues.”

“SHAKE SOME ACTION” 1976

Neil Young and Bill Flanagan, in Flanagan,
Written in My Soul: Conversations with Rock’s Greatest Songwriters
(New York: Contemporary Books, 1986), 124.

“I really try”; “You have to go into a crowd”: Neil Young to GM, in “Neil Young,”
Spin,
January 1994, 35, 34.

Handsome Family, “Winnebago Skeletons,” from
Milk and Scissors
(Carrot Top, 1996).

Flamin’ Groovies, “Shake Some Action,” on
Shake Some Action
(Sire, 1976). Produced by Dave Edmunds at Rockfield in 1972.

Cyril Jordan quoted in notes by Michael Goldberg and Michael Snyder for
Groovies Greatest Grooves
(Sire, 1989).

Kill Rock Stars
(Kill Rock Stars, 1991). With early, sometimes first recordings by Bratmobile (“Girl Germs”), Courtney Love (“Don’t Mix the Colors”), Nirvana (“Beeswax”), Bikini Kill (“Feels Blind”), 7 Year Bitch (“8-Ball Deluxe”), the Melvins (“Ever Since My Accident”), and Heavens to Betsy (“My Red Self”).

“TRANSMISSION” 2007 / 1979 / 2010

Control,
directed by Anton Corbijn, written by Matt Green-halgh (Three Dogs and a Pony, 2007). The version of “Transmission” as performed by the actors is included on
Control—Music from the Motion Picture
(Warner Bros., 2007).

Elvis Costello, “Radio Radio” (Radar, 1978).

“God, what the fuck”; “Some nights”; “Now, finally, he understood”: Anthony Wilson,
24 Hour Party People—What the Sleeve Notes Never Tell You
(London: Channel 4, 2002), 24–25, 81, 49. A third-person memoir, the book is presented as a novelization of the movie of the same name, which chronicled Wilson’s career in Manchester—television host, founder of the Factory label, creator of the Hacienda, the twentieth-century European avant-garde boiled down into a single nightclub. Born in 1950, he died in 2007.

Joy Division,
a documentary film directed by Grant Gee and written by Jon Savage (Hudson Productions, 2007). Some quotes from Bernard Sumner (“‘Yeah Yeah,’” “The words”), Peter Hook (“We were doing”), and Tony Wilson “(“Punk was”) come from this source.

“None of us”; “I always felt”; “When you play it”: Peter Hook to GM, 31 January 2013.

Leslie Fiedler, Introduction to
No! In Thunder: Essays on Myth and Literature
(1960), in
The Collected Essays of Leslie Fiedler,
vol. 1 (New York: Stein and Day, 1971), 237–38.

Jon Savage, “Joy Division: ‘Unknown Pleasures,’”
Melody Maker,
21 July 1979.

——— “good evening, we’re joy division”: notes to Joy Division,
Heart and Soul,
a four-CD collection of released and unreleased studio recordings and live recordings (London, 1997). Some quotes from Bernard Sumner (“It was because,” “He was ian”) come from this superb essay.

Albert Camus, “What do you think of American literature? ‘Literature of the basic,’ Answers Albert Camus,” interview with Jean Desternes,
Combat,
17 January 1947, collected in
Camus at Combat—Writing, 1944–1947,
ed. Jacqueline Lévi-Valensi, trans.
Arthur Goldhammer (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2006), 279.

Joy Division,
Unknown Pleasures
(Factory, 1979). Collected on
Heart and Soul,
as above, as are other Joy Division recordings mentioned unless otherwise referenced.

——— “Transmission,” March 1979 Genetic Records demo.

——— “Transmission” (Factory, October 1979).

——— “The Factory, Manchester—Live 13 July 1979,” included on reissue of
Unknown Pleasures
(London/Rhino, 2007).

——— “Transmission,” for John Peel’s
Something Else,
1 September 1979, collected on
The Complete BBC Recordings
(True North, 2000); footage can be seen in the documentary
Joy Division,
above. In
Control,
“Transmission” as introduced by Tony Wilson is based on this performance, though when Joy Division actually appeared on Wilson’s
Granada Reports,
they played “Shadow-play.”

Graham Greene,
Brighton Rock
(1938; London: Compact, 1993), 218–20. In
The Sex Pistols
(London: Universal, 1978), Fred and Judy Vermorel suggest that Johnny Rotten derived his punk persona partly from Greene’s Pinkie.

Brighton Rock,
directed by John Boulting, written by Graham Greene and Terence Ratigan (Associated British Picture Corporation, 1947).

Brighton Rock,
written and directed by Rowan Joffe (Studio Canal, 2010).

“Crime Leaders Kray Twins Schemed to Take Over as the Beatles’ Managers,” TopNews.in, 21 June 2009.

Paul McCartney quoted from Anthony Wall’s heartbreaking two-and-a-half-hour documentary
The Brian Epstein Story
(BBC
Arena, 1998, produced by Debbie Geller) and Debbie Geller’s oral biography
In My Life: The Brian Epstein Story,
ed. Anthony Wall (New York: Thomas Dunne/St. Martin’s, 2000), 138.

“IN THE STILL OF THE NITE” 1956 / 1959 / 2010

Five Satins, “In the Still of the Nite” (Standord/Ember, 1956, number 24; 1960, number 81; 1961, number 99).

Oldies But Goodies
(Original Sound, 1959). Also included on the first, “Dreamy” side, were the Penguins’ 1954 “Earth Angel,” the Teen Queens’ 1956 “Eddie My Love,” the Mello Kings’ 1957 “Tonite Tonite,” Don Julian & the Meadowlarks’ 1955 “Heaven and Paradise,” and the Medallions’ 1954 “The Letter”—all from Los Angeles.

Fred Parris and Vinny Mazzetta quoted in Randall Beach, “Vinny Played Sax. The Five Satins Needed a Solo. The Rest Was History,”
New Haven Register,
5 December 2010.

“What’s interesting”: Robert Ray to GM, 1992.

Dead Ringers,
directed by David Cronenberg, written by Cronenberg and Norman Snider (Morgan Creek, 1988).

Slades, “You Cheated” (Domino, 1958, number 42). See
The Domino Records Story
(Ace, 1998), which includes “You Gambled,” “I Cheated,” and the Slades’ rehearsal tapes, and also Ed Ward on Domino Records,
Fresh Air,
whyy, 3 September 2002.

Shields, “You Cheated” (Tender/Dot, 1958, number 12).

“Jesse’d write these songs”: Gaynel Hodge quoted in Jim Dawson’s notes to Jesse Belvin,
“Hang Your Tears Out to Dry”
(Earth Angel, 1986), a collection that includes recordings from 1951 to 1957, though not the tune for which Belvin is best known, “Goodnight
My Love (Pleasant Dreams),” from 1956—and covered in 2012 by Aaron Neville on
My True Story
(Blue Note) with a touch so light it betrays the fear that to press down any harder on the song would be to shatter it.

Ronnie Hawkins, “You Cheated (You Lied),” on
Mr. Dynamo
(Roulette, 1960). Roulette was owned by Morris Levy, long a front for the Genovese crime family; song stealing was all but automatic. Levon Helm, in 1960 an unknowing sub-sub-sub-front for the Genovese crime family, was still credited as the author of “You Cheated” on a 1994 Ronnie Hawkins reissue, which meant Roulette, or the Genovese crime family, was still collecting royalties from it.

Safaris, “Image of a Girl” (Eldo, 1960, number 6).

Geeshie Wiley, “Last Kind Words Blues” (Paramount, 1930). See
American Primitive, Vol. II: Pre-War Revenants, 1897–1939
(Revenant, 2005).

John Jurgensen, “Should Bob Dylan Retire?”
Wall Street Journal,
2 December 2010.

“ALL I COULD DO WAS CRY” 2013 / 1960 / 2008

George Packer, “Loose Thoughts on Youth and Age,”
New Yorker
Daily Comment, 8 February 2013.

The Jerk,
directed by Carl Reiner, written by Steve Martin, Carl Gottlieb, and Micael Elias (Universal, 1979).

Rick Perlstein, “The Long Con: Mail-Order Conservatism,”
Baffler,
no. 21, Fall 2012.

Etta James and “The Peaches,” “The Wallflower (Roll with Me Henry)” or “Dance with Me Henry” (Modern, 1955).

Etta James, “All I Could Do Was cry” (Argo, 1960).

——— “At Last” (Argo, 1961).

“I liked to see”; “The song has me”: Etta James and David Ritz,
A Rage to Survive: The Etta James Story
(New York: Da Capo, 2003), 108, 96.

John Fahey,
How Bluegrass Music Destroyed My Life
(Chicago: Drag City, 2000).

James Agee, “Comedy’s Greatest era,”
Life,
3 September 1949, collected in Agee,
Film Writing and Selected Journalism
(New York: Library of America, 2005), 19.

“She is going to have a hill to climb”: Etta James quoted on Page 6 of the
New York Post,
so who knows. Quoted by Kenyon Farrow in “A Political Obituary for Etta James,”
Color Lines,
24 January 2012.

Cadillac Records,
written and directed by Darnell Martin (Tri-Star, 2008). Beyoncé is the only reason to see it—and unfortunately it cornered the market. Another film on Chess Records was in production at the same time; when it finally appeared, in 2010, its release was indistinguishable from its disappearance.

Cadillac Records
never thinks beyond biography.
Who Do You Love,
directed by Jerry Zaks, written by Peter Wortman and Robert Conte, exposes the falsity of the biopic, where a putatively tragic or redemptive story is imposed on the various events in a life as if they were heading to the preordained end the script has imposed: in other words, always engaged in a circular argument with itself, the biopic is a snake eating its own tail. Instead of a concrete story,
Who Do You Love
has a theme—a theme that carries its characters through the years, without any resolution at all.

It begins in Chicago in 1933, when two boys hear country blues for the first time, played by a bum on the street. “My man,” he says to Leonard and Phil Chess, sixteen and twelve, though they look much younger. “My
man,
” says Leonard, leaning down to slap the man’s hand. He looks down into the man’s upside-down hat, with two small coins in it. “Slow day,” says the man. Leonard searches his pockets and comes up empty. “Don’t worry,” he says, taking out a pencil and a piece of paper and scribbling on his brother’s back for a desk. “What’s that?” says the man. “That’s my IOU. I owe you five cents.” “Well,” says the man, “ain’t that a motherfucker.” We follow the boys onto a streetcar, then into their father’s salvage yard. “You okay, motherfucker?” Len says. “I’m okay, motherfucker,” Phil says, trying to look tough. “Me too, motherfucker,” Len says. “What does this mean?” Phil asks, waking up from himself. “‘Motherfucker,’” Len says, considering the question, all but holding the word up to the light: he’s the older brother, he can’t admit he has no idea what it means. “I think it means some kind of—” and then their father shows up. “Where have you been?” he says in a heavy Polish accent. “You think there’s no work to do? A poor Jew,” he says in Polish, “has to work harder.”