She can make cold chills run up ‘n’ down my spine Make me feel warm in the wintertime
This song is for Song Lyric Sunday for Jim Adams’s blog. This week, the theme is to find a song that mentions Cold.
I could listen to that 50s reverb all day long. Vincent gets overlooked by many who only know Be Bob A-Lula. His voice goes with that slapback echo better than any other singer. The more I listen to him, the bigger a fan I become. He could go from ballad to rocker in a split second.
This is one of those cuts that lives in that sweet spot between early rockabilly and straight-up teen rock ’n’ roll. After Be-Bop-A-Lula hit big in 1956, Gene’s life sped up fast, touring, TV spots, label pressure, and the constant push to follow up on that song. By the time he was recording this, he wasn’t just an up-and-coming artist anymore; he was a well-known performer.
In the bigger picture, this song shows Gene doing what he did best in the studio, grabbing a basic idea and turning it into something that feels alive for two minutes. The song was on the album Gene Vincent and the Blue Capsreleased in 1957. The song was written by Jack Rhodes and Bill “Tex” Davis.
If you’re building a Gene Vincent playlist beyond the big hits, this one earns its spot. It’s not a history-changing single; it’s a solid piece of teenage rock ’n’ roll that shows how good Gene could be
Red Blue Jeans and a Pony Tail
Got a crazy little cat that works down town
Cuts an awful lot of capers when I come around
She’s got the westbound Diesel with the evening mail
And a ooh-wee, red blue jeans and a pony tail
She can do more tricks to this heart of mine
Than ten little monkeys on a long grapevine
I know when she holds me, why I get so weak and pale
Ooh-wee, red blue jeans and a pony tail
(Rock!)
Yeah, she’s got more rhythm than a ten piece band
She can rock ‘n’ roll to the clapping of your hand
I know why they watch her like a train does a rail
It’s a ooh-wee, red blue jeans and a pony tail
She can make cold chills run up ‘n’ down my spine
Make me feel warm in the wintertime
She packs a lot of wallop, can be so small and frail
It’s ooh-wee, red blue jeans and a pony tail
(Rock again now!)
When I wrote up Robert Gordon last week, he covered a song by this artist. Love his voice and the intensity of Sun Records. His voice is what made me listen right off the bat.
Riley grew up in rural Arkansas in the 30s and 40s. He soaked up hillbilly music, blues, and raw Southern grit. By the time he drifted into Memphis in the mid-1950s, he already sounded like someone who’d lived hard and fast. Sam Phillips loved his edge and his delivery that felt like it could veer off the rails at any moment. He cut a string of in-your-face singles, Flyin’ Saucers Rock & Roll, Trouble Bound, and of course, this 1957 song, Red Hot. Records that were made with urgency and no restraint.
It has been said that Riley was every bit as talented as his Sun peers, but timing and luck never quite lined up, leaving him almost-famous. This song should have been his ticket, but instead it became a cult classic, passed down among rockabilly obsessives. He was on the same label as Elvis, Jerry Lee Lewis, Johnny Cash, and Roy Orbison. Riley was competing in a house full of once-in-a-generation talent, and someone had to draw the short straw.
I love the sound of him swinging hard at the big time with his records. To hear his recordings, he gave everything he had. Decades later, this song it still jumps out of the speakers like it wants another chance, and it deserves one. History isn’t just about the winners; it’s also written by the ones who swung just as hard and never got the crown. I tend to lean toward that crowd.
My gal is red hot
(Your gal ain’t doodly-squat), yeah
My gal is red hot
(Your gal ain’t doodly-squat)
Well, she ain’t got no money
But, man, she’s really got a lot
Well, I got a gal, six feet four
Sleeps in the kitchen with her feets out the door, but
My gal is red hot
(Your gal ain’t doodly-squat), yeah
My gal is red hot
(Your gal ain’t doodly-squat)
Well, she ain’t got no money
But, man, she’s really got a lot, yeah, alright
Well, she walks all night, talks all day
She’s the kind of woman who’d have her way, but
My gal is red hot
(Your gal ain’t doodly-squat), yeah
My gal is red hot
(Your gal ain’t doodly-squat)
Well, she ain’t got no money
But, man, she’s really got a lot, woah, alright
Well, she’s the kind of woman who lounges around
Spreads my business all over town, but
My gal is red hot
(Your gal ain’t doodly-squat), yeah
My gal is red hot
(Your gal ain’t doodly-squat)
Well, she ain’t got no money
But, man, she’s really got a lot, woah, alright
Well, she’s a one-man’s woman, that’s what I like
Not a wishy-washy woman, change her mind every night, but
[Chorus]
My gal is red hot
(Your gal ain’t doodly-squat), yeah
My gal is red hot
(Your gal ain’t doodly-squat)
Well, she ain’t got no money
But, man, she’s really got a lot
It is one of Buddy Holly’s best-known singles, built on a simple idea and a drum beat you can’t miss. The song moves fast, with Holly’s voice staying calm but urgent. This song is one of those records that feels like it was cut in one take, even if it wasn’t. It hits fast, and it doesn’t waste a second getting to the point.
Holly wrote this about Peggy Sue Gerron, who was dating Holly’s drummer with The Crickets, Jerry Allison. Holly was not involved with Peggy Sue but liked the name for the song. Allison and Peggy Sue eventually got married but divorced nine years later. At first, Holly was going to call this “Cindy Lou.” Jerry Allison asked if the name could be changed as a favor to him. It probably wouldn’t be heard outside of Lubbock, Texas, anyway, and it would really mean some brownie points for Jerry. Buddy had no problem with the name change.
The song peaked at #3 in the US, #6 in the UK, and #4 in Canada. Peggy Sue was written by Buddy Holly, Jerry Allison, and Norman Petty, and originally performed, recorded, and released as a single by Holly in early July of 1957. It started out with a cha-cha beat, but Allison couldn’t get it right. He reverted to a warm-up drill he did with the high school band, and Holly changed the guitar around, and it worked. Buddy wrote a sequel to this song that I covered a few years ago called Peggy Sue Got Married. Peggy Sue passed away in 2018.
A little trivia: On September 8, 2001, 48,000 people in Lubbock, Texas, tried to get into the Guinness Book of World Records by singing this at the Texas Tech-New Mexico football game. Horn-rimmed glasses like Holly used to wear were distributed to get them in the mood. The day before the game is when Holly would have turned 65. From the info I’ve looked up…they did it.
Peggy Sue
If you knew Peggy Sue
Then you’d know why I feel blue without Peggy
My Peggy Sue
Oh well, I love you gal, yes, I love you Peggy Sue
Peggy Sue, Peggy Sue
Oh how my heart yearns for you
Oh Peggy, my Peggy Sue
Oh well, I love you gal, yes, I love you Peggy Sue
Peggy Sue, Peggy Sue
Pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty Peggy Sue
Oh Peggy, my Peggy Sue
Oh well, I love you gal and I need you Peggy Sue
I love you Peggy Sue
With a love so rare and true
Oh Peggy, my Peggy Sue
Well I love you gal, I want you Peggy Sue
Peggy Sue, Peggy Sue
Pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty Peggy Sue
Oh Peggy, my Peggy Sue
Oh well, I love you gal yes I need you Peggy Sue
I love you Peggy Sue
With a love so rare and true
Oh Peggy, my Peggy Sue
Oh well I love you gal, and I want you Peggy Sue
Oh well, I love you gal and I want you Peggy Sue
Every time I post Little Richard, I think of my dad. I never heard my dad gush over a music performer besides three artists. Elvis Presley, George Jones, and Little Richard. I think Richard was his favorite voice. He would tell me, no one, absolutely no one, sounded like Little Richard. My dad was born in 1938, so he was the perfect age (17) in 1955 to enjoy the rock and roll boom that was going on.
I only knew Richard from his manic songs, but Graham talked about him singing some ballads, so I checked them out. The man could sing a great ballad as well, but I’m not posting a ballad today. I had Little Richard’s greatest hits as a youngster, after all of the buildup from my dad. Since I got into the Beatles so early, I knew enough to know Paul was emulating Little Richard with Long Tall Sally. He did a great job, but nothing beats the man himself.
From the opening crash of Charles Connor’s drums, a bolt of energy that feels like it might knock your turntable off its spindle. Richard isn’t asking anyone in; he’s telling the world to keep knocking because the party inside is already out of control. It’s controlled chaos, and I love it. I also love Samuel Parker’s breakout sax solo in the middle.
The heartbeat of this song came from drummer Charles Connor, whose opening drum break is one of the most famous in rock history. Connor later said he borrowed the feel from a New Orleans parade rhythm and stripped it down. Connor has spoken about how Little Richard wanted the drums to sound like chaos barely held together, loud and urgent. That intro became so iconic that it later inspired John Bonham’s opening on Led Zeppelin’s Rock and Roll, but the original blueprint belongs to Charles Connor.
Listening to this song is like taking speed for 2 minutes. The lyrics are almost childishly simple, but the delivery makes them monumental. If you want to explain why Little Richard matters, just listen to this song and stand back. This is the sound of the door being slammed on the old world and kicked open into something louder and faster. No polish or no restraint.
The song was released in 1957, and it was credited to Little Richard but he wrote it based on a blues song by James “Boodle It” Wiggins in 1928 called Keep a-Knocking An You Can’t Come In. The song peaked at #8 on the Billboard 100, #2 on the Billboard R&B Charts, and #21 in the UK in 1957.
Keep A-Knocking
Keep a knockin’, but you can’t come in Keep a knockin’, but you can’t come in Keep a knockin’, but you can’t come in Come back tomorrow night and try it again
You said you love me and you can’t come in You said you love me and you can’t come in (woo!) You said you love me and you can’t come in Come back tomorrow night and try it again (woo!)
Keep a knockin’, but you can’t come in Keep a knockin’, but you can’t come in Keep a knockin’, but you can’t come in Come back tomorrow night and try it again
You said you love me and you can’t come in You said you love me and you can’t come in (woo!) You said you love me and you can’t come in Come back tomorrow night and try it again (woo!)
Keep a knockin’, but you can’t come in Keep a knockin’, but you can’t come in (woo!) Keep a knockin’, but you can’t come in Come back tomorrow night and try it again
You said you love me and you can’t come in You said you love me and you can’t come in You said you love me and you can’t come in Come back tomorrow night and try it again (woo!)
I thought I would do something different today. I was reminded of this by the phrase, “it was before my time.” Movies and music fall into this category. I do know people who will not watch movies made “before their time.” I don’t think many of my readers would agree to this statement, but who knows?
I had a co-worker in the early 2000s (Sam) tell me that I shouldn’t like music that was before my time because it was unnatural (yes, he said that). I was first kinda of amused and shocked. I like Sam a lot, and we would talk a lot; he is a smart fellow. However, on this point, I didn’t understand. Why? Is there some unwritten law that I can’t like 1950s or 1960s music up to 1967, when I was born? That cut off some of the best music of the 20th century and beyond.
He grew up in the 80s, as I did, and was probably around 5 or so years younger than me. I’ve seen other people act the same way. If it were before they were born, then they would not give it a second listen. If a movie is black and white, they act as if they are near a radiation leak!
I think the subject centered around how I loved 50s and 60s music and The Beatles, The Who, The Stones, and The Kinks. He said I should be listening to music from my teenage years (well, I WAS…60s music was my soundtrack growing up), but I DID listen to the top 40 when I was a teenager, which, to me, didn’t live up to those bands to any degree or form. Maybe it wasn’t fair to compare Men Without Hats to those 1960s bands. It was hard to stomach some of the ’80s for me, but not all. Now I’m busy catching up on music I missed that wasn’t on Top 40 radio at the time. I did find an oasis in the 80s, alternative music like The Replacements and REM…and the classic bands.
I still want to find other music and movies I like. Why would age have any effect on the music, whether we like it or not? That doesn’t mean I don’t like new music. I have posted newer bands here before who have just released albums. If it’s good, it doesn’t matter what era it came from, at least not to me. Christian, Graham, and Lisa all posted some newer songs that I liked. With movies, yes, I find some I like. I just saw Weapons and loved it, plus there are others.
I’m not putting people down at all who think like that. Hey, if that is what they believe, more power to them. I never believed in criticizing people for their opinions, music, or otherwise. Whatever blows their hair back.
I’ve always liked this song. It was originally by Henry Mancini for the Peter Gunn television show in 1958. I love instrumentals, and this is one of the best. I think the heyday of instrumentals was the fifties and sixties.
This (and many of his songs) was recorded in a Phoenix studio, which had an echo chamber that was originally a large water tank. A single speaker was placed at one end of the tank, the microphone at the other, and the guitar was piped in there. It’s hard to mimic that with a reverb stomp box.
Duane Eddy, the man who made a single twangy note sound like thunder rolling across the land. In 1959, he took Henry Mancini’s already cool Peter Gunn TV theme and turned it into something leaner and meaner. Backing him up was producer Lee Hazlewood, who knew how to turn an amplifier and that echo chamber into sonic gold. Together, they recorded this song in Phoenix, with a rhythm section that was tight and lean.
I like how Eddy arranged his songs. No big flashy solos or seeing how fast he could play, just that sound he had, never letting up. Duane Eddy laid the groundwork for surf music, spy soundtracks, and even hard rock. Everyone from The Ventures to George Harrison took notes from that tone.
The song peaked at #27 on the Billboard 100, #30 in Canada, and #6 in the UK in 1959 and 1960.
Love the intro to this song. It’s the kind of song that turns teenage heartache into pure joy. This song was my introduction to the Everly Brothers, and I have never stopped listening.
The husband-and-wife songwriting team of Boudleaux and Felice Bryant wrote this song. Together, this talented couple wrote many hits for the Everly Brothers and other artists, including Wake Up Little Susie and All I Have To Do Is Dream. The Bryants are credited with being the first songwriters to come to Nashville and make a living only by writing songs. Almost 30 other artists had previously rejected this song before The Everly Brothers recorded it. It became their first hit in both the UK and the US.
Behind the scenes, the recording session was minimal: two voices, a couple of guitars, Floyd Chance on upright bass, and Buddy Harman on drums, but the sound was huge. The Everlys blended country, pop, and rock ’n’ roll, and it gave teenagers something they hadn’t quite heard before. That ringing acoustic rhythm became very influential, later inspiring everyone from The Beatles to Simon & Garfunkel, The Hollies, and countless power-pop bands down the road.
This song was more than just a hit; it opened doors. The Beatles modeled their early vocal style after Don and Phil. Keith Richards once said that hearing the Everly Brothers changed everything for him. The song has been covered by everyone from Simon & Garfunkel to George Harrison. It’s a rare song that never feels dated
The song peaked at #2 on the Billboard 100, #1 on the Billboard Country Charts, #2 on Canada’s CHUM charts, #1 in New Zealand, and #6 in the UK in 1957. It was recorded in Nashville at the RCA Studios.
Boudleaux: “I wrote ‘Bye Bye Love’ while traveling home one night. Felice was driving down the highway and I got the first verse and chorus right down there. I always make sure I have a pen and paper in the car for these occasions.”
“We really believed in the song and were disappointed when so many people turned it down. They said it was unsuitable, some even asked if we has anything better!”
Bye Bye Love
Bye bye love Bye bye happiness, hello loneliness I think I’m-a gonna cry-y Bye bye love, bye bye sweet caress, hello emptiness I feel like I could di-ie Bye bye my love goodby-eye
There goes my baby with-a someone new She sure looks happy, I sure am blue She was my baby till he stepped in Goodbye to romance that might have been
Bye bye love Bye bye happiness, hello loneliness I think I’m-a gonna cry-y Bye bye love, bye bye sweet caress, hello emptiness I feel like I could di-ie Bye bye my love goodby-eye
I’m-a through with romance, I’m a-through with love I’m through with a’countin’ the stars above And here’s the reason that I’m so free My lovin’ baby is through with me
Bye bye love Bye bye happiness, hello loneliness I think I’m-a gonna cry-y Bye bye love, bye bye sweet caress, hello emptiness I feel like I could di-ie Bye bye my love goodby-eye
Bye bye my love goodby-eye Bye bye my love goodby-eye
Bye bye my love goodby-eye Bye bye my love goodby-eye
There is not a week that goes by that I don’t listen to some rockabilly. It’s not just the leads, it’s the fills as well. Rockabilly music is like this machine where parts are moving everywhere, but it always falls into place.
In this song, it’s not the opening riff that gets to me; it’s the fills that the guitar player is playing while Johnny is singing. He also slips some basslines in, all the while the bass is throwing some in as well. When you analyze this music, it can be chaotic, but when done right, it’s hard to resist. It’s like music climbing a ladder on one side and coming back down on the other at the same time.
This song was released in 1956; a very unpolished burst of energy that still sounds electric seventy years later. The Rock ’n Roll Trio, Johnny on vocals and rhythm guitar, his brother Dorsey on bass, and Paul Burlison on guitar, made a sound that helped define the very idea of rockabilly.
While it didn’t chart at the time, its influence was huge. The record’s mix of rhythm and attitude caught the attention of British musicians, guys like Jeff Beck, Keith Richards, Jimmy Page, and Paul McCartney, who all cited Burnette’s Trio as a crucial influence. The Stray Cats and Robert Gordon helped revived rockabilly in the late 1970s and early 1980s; this song was one of the first songs they covered. You might remember another song by Johnny, Train Kept a Rollin’ and it was covered by Aerosmith and The Yardbirds.
If you only like smoothly produced music, rockabilly is not for you. If you want a primal sound, welcome aboard!
Tear It Up
Come on little baby let’s tear the dancefloor up Come on little baby let’s tear the dancefloor up Come on little mama let me see you strut your stuff Tear it up, tear it up Tear it up, tear it up Come on little baby let me see you strut your stuff
I’m leavin’ little baby, gonna be gone a long-long time I’m leavin’ little baby, gonna be gone a long-long time So come on little baby, show me a real good time Tear it up, tear it up Tear it up, tear it up Come on little mama let’s tear the dancefloor up (Goow!)
Well you step back baby, move my way Step around again an’ let me hear you say Tear it up, tear it up Come on little baby let’s tear the dancefloor up Tear it up, tear it up Tear it up, tear it up Come on little mama let’s tear the dancefloor up
I’m sitting here with my headphones on and listening to this instrumental, Walking With Mr. Lee. This one makes me feel like I’m walking down a street in the 1950s, flushed with money. Not every classic needs a big chorus or a star singer; sometimes it’s a great musician taking a walk and inviting us all to follow…and follow I will.
Allen grew up in Denver after being born in Pittsburg, Kansas, and headed to New Orleans on a combined athletics and music scholarship to Xavier University in the mid-1940s. He fell straight into the city’s music scene, working alongside Dave Bartholomew’s crew with Red Tyler, Earl Palmer, and company. He worked with the best, and that included Fats Domino (Allen played on many of his records), Lloyd Price, Huey “Piano” Smith, Professor Longhair, The Blasters, The Stray Cats, Allen Toussaint, The Rolling Stones, and, crucially, Little Richard’s 1955-1956 Specialty singles that were full of Allen’s saxophone.
So Mr. Allen wasn’t a guy who came out of nowhere. He rarely showed off; he guided the band, nudging Fats Domino forward, egging Little Richard on, and making every garage band probably think, “we need a sax.” As Chuck Berry’s guitar was so important to the 1950s, Lee Allen’s sax was in the thick of it as well.
I found a 1991 video featuring Lee Allen, Boots Randolph, Sil Austin, Hans & Candy Dulfer, and it’s definitely worth watching. Walking With Mr. Lee did become a minor hit, and it was played on American Bandstand constantly. The song passes my smile test…because when I hear it, I’m happy.
Lee Allen on sax with the Blaster.
No lyrics needed…just put some headphones on and enjoy.
This song is always played when I’m in a Buddy Holly mood and even when I’m not. This song is so Buddy Holly. What I mean is he doesn’t complicate it; he just infuses this simple song with energy, and the result tells it all. This is the kind of song that makes you remember why rock ’n’ roll mattered in the first place. It’s not about overthinking, it’s about fun.
The title was inspired by the 1956 Sun Records recording “Dixie Fried” by Carl Perkins, which uses the refrain “rave on.” The B-side was Holly’s composition “Take Your Time“. Petty’s production gave the song just enough polish without sanding down all the grit. I think Holly understood that a song could be a bolt of lightning, two minutes of pure adrenaline.
This was written by Sonny West, Bill Tilghman, and Norman Petty and recorded in January 1958 at Petty’s New Mexico studio, where Holly laid down most of his hits. Petty wanted to give it to another act, but Holly protested and persuaded the songwriters to let him record it. Holly and the Crickets transformed it into the definitive version.
Every time I hear Rave On, I picture a small garage with a beat-up amp, drums, a cheap guitar, and a group of kids who believe they can play rock music. And thanks to Buddy, they can.
The song peaked at #5 in the UK, #12 in Canada, and #37 on the Billboard 100 in 1958.
Rave On
A we-a-e-a-ell The little things you say and do Make me want to be with you-a-hoo Rave on, it’s a crazy feelin’ and I know it’s got me reelin’ When you say, I love you, rave on
The way you dance and hold me tight The way you kiss and say goodni-hi-hight Rave on, it’s a crazy feelin’ and-a I know it’s got me reelin’ When you say, I love you, rave on
A-well rave on, it’s a crazy feelin’ and I know, it’s got me reelin’ I’m so glad, that you’re revealin’ Your love for me Rave on, rave on and tell me Tell me, not to be lonely Tell me, you love me only Rave on to me
A-well rave on, it’s a crazy feelin’ and I know, it’s got me reelin’ I’m so glad, that you’re revealin’ Your love for me Rave on, rave on and tell me Tell me, not to be lonely Tell me, you love me only Rave on to me
I wanted to hear some rockabilly, and that is how I ran across Canadian Jack Scott. As successful as he was, I’m surprised he is not known more.
He was born, Giovanni Domenico Scafone Jr., in Windsor, Ontario, in 1936. Scott grew up straddling the border between Detroit and Canada. That location shaped his sound. He was influenced by gospel, country, R&B, and the raw early rock, blending them into a voice and style that didn’t quite fit into any one style or box. By the late 1950s, he was producing records that rivaled those of Elvis Presley, Gene Vincent, and Roy Orbison.
Jack Scott released 19 singles that charted on the U.S. Billboard 100 between 1958 and 1961, which was a remarkable number for the era. This was more U.S. singles in a shorter time than any other recording artist, except for The Beatles. Again, it looks like he would be more well-known.
Scott’s chart success slowed down after the early ’60s, but he never stopped performing. He returned to country music in the 1970s and maintained a loyal fan base in rockabilly revival circles in Europe and North America. Today, he’s remembered as Canada’s first true rock ’n’ roll star, a bridge between rockabilly, country, and pop, and an artist whose influence can still be heard in roots rock.
This song came out in 1958, and it peaked at #11 on the Billboard 100 and #15 in Canada. I’m including another song called Goodbye Baby that peaked at #8 on the Billboard 100 and #3 in Canada.
Leroy
I know a boy who was never blue Now he lives in cellblock two I don’t know just why he’s blue… … leroy… whatd you do
Leroys back in jail again -2- I don’t know why, why he’s blue… … leroy… whatd you do
Went to the judge, dig man wail I’m here and I got leroys bail Judge said son, don’tcha tell me no tale… … leroy, he’s gonna stay in jail
Now, leroy says man, you tried the best Man, I’m here gonna take a rest. I’ve seen minny, she’s got the blues… … she let you wear my long pointed shoes
Now, leroys heart is a bowl of hate Leroy, he just can’t go straight Tell my minny, I can’t keep my date… … I’m gonna be bout six months late
Hooker only needed a guitar and that voice to make any song interesting. If you ever needed proof that less really is more, play this song.
There’s a reason John Lee Hooker didn’t need a band on this song. He was the band. A one-man rhythm machine with a foot that kept better time than some drummers I’ve seen on stage. In a way, this song is blues stripped to its bones. No solos. No pyrotechnics. Just mood, repetition, and that unmistakable voice. He doesn’t shout to get your attention; he commands, and you come running.
The song was recorded in Detroit, Michigan, where Hooker had relocated in the late 1940s. It was released in 1951 on Modern Records. It features Hooker on guitar and vocals, accompanied by minimalistic instrumentation.
He was fresh off the success of Boogie Chillen, and while that earlier hit was electric blues, this song was something different; smokier and more intimate.
This 1951 song was his first R&B #1 since Boogie Chillen in 1948. It also peaked at #30 on the US Hot 100 that year. It was a hit in the juke joints and on jukeboxes. It made people lean in, not turn up. And it cemented Hooker’s place as something far more than a bluesman.
I’m In The Mood
I’m in the mood, baby I’m in the mood for love I’m in the mood, baby I’m in the mood for love I’m in the mood, in the mood Babe, I’m in the mood for love
I say, nighttime is the right time, to be with the one you love You know when the night come, baby got no use so far away
I’m in the mood I’m in the mood, babe I’m in the mood for love I’m in the mood, in the mood, baby In the mood for love
I said, yes my mama told me, “Don’t leave that girl alone” But my mama didn’t know, God know, yeah, I wouldn’t put it down
I’m the mood I’m in the mood, baby, mood for love I’m in the mood, I’m in the mood Babe, in the mood for love
One of the most perfect Rock and Roll songs ever. There are many different eras of Elvis. This is not the jumpsuit Elvis or even the great comeback Elvis. This is the mid-fifties Elvis, who I think is untouchable.
This 1955 song found Elvis Presley right on the cusp. He’d already cut a few sides for Sun that shaped hillbilly music into something sharp and unruly, but this was his first single for RCA. The stakes were high, and the sound? Even higher. Everything about Heartbreak Hotel is drenched in echo. Not just the vocals, which slap back like they’re ricocheting off the walls, but the very mood of it.
Chet Atkins and Scotty Moore laid down little guitar stabs. Floyd Cramer’s piano combines with the emptiness. RCA execs weren’t sure about it. They wanted something upbeat. Something with bounce. But the public knew better, as they usually do. The song was written by Hoyt Axton’s mother, Mae Boren Axton, who wrote the music, and a steel guitar player from Nashville named Tommy Durden wrote the lyrics. He said he was inspired by a newspaper article about a man who killed himself at a hotel and left a note that stated, “I walk a lonely street.”
The song peaked at #1 on the Billboard 100 and the Country charts and #2 in the UK Charts. It also reached #10 in the UK in 1971. The first RCA sessions were held on January 10, 1956, at their Nashville studios ( The Methodist Television, Radio and TV Studios, 1525 McGavock Street, Nashville), and that’s where Elvis recorded this song. His backing musicians were his mainstays, Scotty Moore on electric guitar and Bill Black on bass, D.J. Fontana on drums, Floyd Cramer on piano, and Chet Atkins on acoustic guitar.
Heartbreak Hotel
Well, since my baby left me Well, I found a new place to dwell Well, it’s down at the end of Lonely Street At Heartbreak Hotel Where I’ll be–where I get so lonely, baby Well, I’m so lonely I get so lonely, I could die
Although it’s always crowded You still can find some room For broken-hearted lovers To cry there in the gloom And be so, where they’ll be so lonely, baby Well, they’re so lonely They’ll be so lonely, they could die
Well, the bellhop’s tears keep flowin’ And the desk clerk’s dressed in black Well, they’ve been so long on Lonely Street Well, they’ll never, they’ll never get back And they’ll be so, where they’ll be so lonely, baby Well, they’re so lonely They’ll be so lonely, they could die
Well now, if your baby leaves you And you have a sad tale to tell Just take a walk down Lonely Street To Heartbreak Hotel And you will be, you will be, you will be lonely, baby You’ll be so lonely You’ll be so lonely, you could die
Well, though it’s always crowded You still can find some room For broken-hearted lovers To cry there in the gloom And they’ll be so, they’ll be so lonely, baby They’ll be so lonely They’ll be so lonely, they could die
Ricky Nelson’s 1958 hit Lonesome Town is one of those songs that sneaks up on you, not with a scream, but with a sigh. Something about this song hits me when I hear it. When I think of Ricky Nelson, I think of this song over Garden Party or any other for some reason.
The production is sparse, but that’s the point. Just a hushed acoustic guitar, a ghostly bassline, and the Jordanaires humming like they’re trapped behind church doors. The reverb wraps around Nelson’s voice like fog rolling in over the streets of this town. Ricky Nelson might not have had Elvis’s sneer or Jerry Lee’s wildness, but he had something those guys didn’t always chase…subtlety.
Not only do we have Ricky Nelson singing, but the great Jordanaires backing him up. The loneliness conveyed in this song still works. The song peaked at #7 on the Billboard 100, 1958. The song was written by Baker Knight. Knight wrote more hits for Ricky Nelson and more. Elvis, Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra, Paul McCartney, and Jerry Lee Lewis covered his songs.
Ricky Nelson was huge in the 50s, given his constant exposure on The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet… This song was a change for him at the time, as he usually did up-tempo songs. The show ended up hurting him a bit in the long run. It was a while before people took him as seriously as a performer.
I first heard this song in the 1980s, listening to an oldies channel that stayed locked in for me. I was reminded of it later in the mid-nineties with a Pepsi Commercial.
Lonesome Town
There’s a place where lovers go to cry their troubles away And they call it lonesome town, where the broken hearts stay You can buy a dream or two to last you all through the years And the only price you pay is a heartful of tears
Goin’ down to lonesome town, where the broken hearts stay Goin’ down to lonesome town to cry my troubles away In the town of broken hearts the streets are paved with regret Maybe down in lonesome town I can learn to forget
There’s a place where lovers go to cry their troubles away And they call it lonesome town, where the broken hearts stay You can buy a dream or two to last you all through the years And the only price you pay is a heartful of tears
Goin’ down to lonesome town, where the broken hearts stay Goin’ down to lonesome town to cry my troubles away In the town of broken hearts the streets are paved with regret Maybe down in lonesome town I can learn to forget
I didn’t find this movie until the 90s. In the late eighties, I was watching and reading about every silent movie and artist that I could. Clara Bow, Buster Keaton, and Charlie Chaplin were at the top of my list. Back then, you had to get book after more books. I would also find ads in magazines of people selling silent movies on VHS.
In a Keaton book, I saw this as a film credit. I then read some about the great Billy Wilder, director, screenwriter, and producer, and I had to watch it. The movie did not disappoint. Buster’s part was nothing more than a cameo, but the movie more than made up for it. It’s funny how we find some movies. This would be high on top of my movie list. I’ve watched it so many times that I’ve lost count. I always notice something that I didn’t before. I keep hoping a change will happen, Joe will do something different, or just go back home.
Billy Wilder’s Sunset Boulevard isn’t just a film noir. It’s a Hollywood horror story soaked in pool water and silent film ghosts. The real trick Wilder pulls here is making you feel both horror and heartbreak. Norma isn’t really a villain or a relic; she’s an open wound. She’s clinging to her dreams like a one-hit wonder who never got the memo that the charts moved on. And Joe Gillis? He’s the guy who sells out until he’s got nothing left but a typewriter and a guilty conscience.
The movie was released in 1950. By 1950, the first great silent film stars of the 20s were aging, and there was interest in knowing what happened to them. The Norma Desmond character was thought to be a composite of Mary Pickford, who lived her life in seclusion, Clara Bow, who had a mental illness, as well as some other silent greats. The name was a combination of silent-film star Norma Talmadge and silent movie director William Desmond Taylor, who was mysteriously shot and killed… and remains unsolved to this day..
The star of this movie, without a doubt, is Gloria Swanson as Norma Desmond. When we first meet Norma, we think she is just an over-the-top, egocentric former silent era actress. Slowly, we see what a psychotic existence she lives, and it only gets worse. Norma still thinks she is adored by millions. Her chauffeur, Max Von Mayerling, helps perpetuate this lie. We find out why as the movie goes along, and it is shocking. It will blow up in his face, but he never quits building her up.
The final scene is chilling. Norma Desmond is in a catatonic state, asking for a close-up. Her eyes alone will send a shiver down your spine. The movie is full of great actors and actresses. The focus is on William Holden, Gloria Swanson, and Erich Von Stroheim. Holden was a great actor who appeared in movies such as The Bridge on the River Kwai, Stalag 17, and The Wild Bunch. Erich Von Stroheim plays Max, and in the twenties, Erich was a silent movie actor but best remembered as an avant-garde director in the 1920s. Gloria Swanson was a very successful silent movie actress who made a successful move to sound pictures. She also appeared on Broadway in the 40s and 50s. She started many production companies in the 1920s and 30s.
PLOT (Spoilers)
Screenplay writer Joe Gillis was desperately trying to sell his stories, but Hollywood did not want to listen. Joe had talent, but he wasn’t trying to write something great…just something that would sell. He was going to have to return home to Dayton, Ohio, a failure if something didn’t happen and soon. His car was getting repossessed, and he was trying to hide it just for a little while. While being chased by creditors, he parks it in a decrepit old mansion. Little did he know that former silent movie star Norma Desmond still lived there. She used to be a big (“I am big, it’s the pictures that got small”) star.
Joe Gillis ended up being invited to stay to edit Norma’s film screenplay that she wrote. That screenplay was going to be her return to film. One thing leads to another, and Joe ends up being a kept man, and he doesn’t like it one bit. As time goes by, life at Norma’s mansion…it gets darker and darker. Joe is stuck there working on Norma’s horrible screenplay while playing the good boy. He gets new clothes, perks, and is not wanting for anything…except freedom. There is a price to be paid for being kept by Desmond. He sneaks out and sees a young girl whom he writes with and falls for, but cannot break Norma’s grip.
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The movie was written by Charles Brackett and Billy Wilder. It was directed by Billy Wilder and released in 1950. This movie is one of the greats. It’s a movie that anyone who is a film fan must watch.
“Alright, Mr. DeMille, I’m ready for my close-up”
Yes, she was indeed ready…she spent years getting ready for her final starring role. Just not the role you would think.
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