April 10, 1997
With all the exciting changes going on in modern music, it's easy to forget the primal roots of this roaring mess we call rock and roll, to delegate it to the oldies station and focus on the Newest Latest. Sure, some acts deserve to be in the bargain bin (Pat Boone, anyone?), but the true innovators remain as fresh and vital today as they were 40 years ago. I've heard few singles in the last five years that deliver as much visceral pleasure as Little Richard's hoarse screeches on "Long Tall Sally".
Elvis may very well has been the King, but Chuck Berry was the Emperor of rock and roll; The Georgia Peach proves Little Richard was the High Priest. His seamless blend of blues progressions, R&B horns and gospel emotions are a wonder to behold. This album collects 25 A- and B-sides all cut between 1955 and 1957, and each one perfectly illustrates the sound that blew the doors off of post-war America.
Richard's manic singing, fierce piano and thinly masked sexuality were too hot to handle, and even now demonstrate what the phrase "rock and roll" really means: "Good Golly Miss Molly, you sure like to ball / when you're rockin' and a rollin' you can't hear your momma call / From the early early mornin to the early early night / when I caught Miss Molly rockin at the house of blue light." Hit songs about whores? No wonder the Establishment was nervous.
I love much of the current musical revolution, but "Tutti Frutti", "Ready Teddy" and the two minutes of "Jenny Jenny" have more raw, unbridled passion than entire albums by The Chemical Brothers or (deliver us, O Lord) Prodigy. Little Richard is probably the last man in America who needs an ego boost, but lets face it; he rocked like it was the Apocalypse. Maybe the end of the Millenium calls for a look back to see where we began.
- Jared O'Connor
visceral pleasure