Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SATURDAY, January 21, 1995 TAG: 9501230003
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: B-8 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: SUE SMALLWOOD LANDMARK NEWS SERVICE
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
The influence of Sam Phillips' Sun Records and its golden roster of talent is indelible. Howlin' Wolf's primordial howl, Elvis Presley's passionate rockabilly, Johnny Cash's world-weariness, Jerry Lee Lewis' insanity-toeing delivery - all illustrated that pop music, stripped to an almost elemental form, could make you ache, sweat, lust and laugh.
It could make you feel.
Sun's myriad recordings are amazingly enduring, having been endlessly repackaged and re-released the last few decades to satisfy an apparently insatiable demand. Now, the label's definitive milestones have been corraled in ``The Sun Records Collection'' (Rhino), a comprehensive 74-track, three-CD compendium.
Phillips began with the blues, recording performers and leasing their tracks to established labels. His first discovery was Joe Hill Louis, a one-man band who accompanied himself on guitar and harmonica. His second, a student of Sonny Boy Williamson, was young Riley King, better known as B.B. after his ``B.B. Blues'' was released in 1951.
Phillips' first No. 1 hit was a raw recording of Jackie Brenston's ``Rocket 88,'' released by Chess Records in 1951. With its overamplified, distorted guitar, it is considered the very first rock 'n' roll record.
Arguably, his greatest gift to the blues was Chester Burnett, the inimitable vocalist and harmonica-blower called Howlin' Wolf. ``When I heard him,'' Phillips would tell journalist Robert Palmer, ``I said, `This is where the soul of man never dies.' ''
Other Sun groundbreaking blues artists included Rosco Gordon, Rufus Thomas, James Cotton and Little Junior Parker, who penned and performed the original recording of ``Mystery Train,'' later a Presley hit.
By 1954, Phillips was dabbling in what would come to be called rockabilly, a hybrid of hillbilly country and hardscrabble blues styles. Scotty Moore, guitarist for Doug Poindexter and the Starlite Wranglers, was especially attuned to Phillips' experimentations. The two would often linger at the diner next door to the Sun studio.
``The job I had, I was through work usually around 2 in the afternoon and I'd go by and have coffee with Sam and Marion [Keisker, Phillips' assistant],'' says Moore, now an independent record label owner in Nashville. ``We'd just discuss the whole business and what things were happening, more or less trying to think of something to try to make money.
``Elvis' name came up one day in conversation. In fact, I think Marion brought it up. She said, `You remember this kid that was in about a year ago, did the record for his mother?'
``So after that, every day I went down and said, `Hey, did you call that kid?' I just worried Sam to death. So he told Marion, `Give Scotty his phone number,' then turned to me and said, `You call him and get him to come over to your house and see what you think about him.''
The shy teen-ager who ambled into Moore's home in the summer of 1954 was ``dressed kind of different from most guys his age. He was into the louder colors, more extravagant dress, more like the `Blackboard Jungle' style with the ducktail. He had on a pink shirt and black pants with a stripe down the leg, big buck shoes. And it seemed like he knew every song in the world.''
Phillips arranged for Moore and Wranglers bassist Bill Black to accompany the young singer at an audition, ```just to hear how his voice sounds recorded on tape,''' Moore says today.
``The first time in there it was an audition, we were just trying different songs - `I Love You Because,' `Blue Moon' ... We were just searching, experimenting.''
During a break, Elvis and Black began cutting up, horsing around with bluesman Arthur Crudup's ``That's All Right (Mama).'' Phillips liked the looseness, the spontaneity of what he heard. Moore joined in and Elvis Presley's first single was in the can - one great big, beautiful accident.
Phillips would release five Presley singles before selling the singer's contract to RCA Victor for a then-unheard of $35,000. ``The Sun Records Collection'' commemorates the 40th anniversary of the Presley sessions by including ``That's All Right,'' ``Good Rockin' Tonight,'' ``Baby Let's Play House'' and ``Mystery Train.'' Even today, the primitive recordings sound strikingly vibrant.
``Sam used what we call `slapback,' tape delay,'' which lent an otherworldly patina to Presley's voice, Moore says of the tracks' unprecedented sonic texture. ``And I don't know if Sam was really conscious of it at the time, but if you listen to old pop and country records back then, the voice was always so much farther out from the music, it was way, way out in front.
``Sam kept Elvis' voice close to the music. In essence, Elvis' voice became another instrument.''
After Presley's exit, Phillips' attentions turned to a fresh crop of dirt-poor but amply talented Southern boys who'd made their starry-eyed way to Sun's doorstep: Johnny Cash from Arkansas, Carl Perkins from Tennessee, Roy Orbison from Texas. In 1956, Phillips signed Arkansas singer/guitarist Billy Lee Riley; he and his backing outfit would become Sun's de facto house band.
But the most colorful of the bunch was Jerry Lee Lewis, a cocksure piano man from Louisiana.
``When I first saw him he was real brash,'' says guitarist Roland Janes, who played on Lewis' ``Great Balls of Fire'' and ``High School Confidential.'' ``Musically, he was the greatest thing I've ever seen. He and the piano just seemed to go together like a baseball player and a bat.''
Janes, Lewis and other Sun musicians cut 25 songs in a marathon demo session while Phillips was out of town. When Phillips returned, he heard ``Crazy Arms'' and rushed it to a radio station.
Lewis' fiery flailings had tremendous crossover appeal. Four of his singles maintained lofty heights on the pop, R&B and country charts from late 1957 through mid-1958 - a sudden success later spectacularly foiled by his scandalous marriage to his 13-year-old cousin.
After briefly helming his own label and various production stints, Janes is again working with Phillips as general manager of Sam Phillips Recording Service, a custom audio house in Memphis. It is just one of several family enterprises which encompass music production and publishing and radio.
Phillips Recording Service is just a few blocks away from the old Sun studio, which was sold to musician/engineer Gary Hardy in 1987. Fully restored - U2 and Def Leppard have recorded there - it is a popular tourist attraction; two Japanese tourists visit it in Jim Jarmusch's 1989 comedy ``Mystery Train.''
``Sam was the same then as he is now - very, very intense,'' says Janes. ``What Sam was doing was totally different than anything else that'd ever been on the music scene. And only Sam Phillips would have had the nerve enough to have done it.''
by CNB