Little Richard; a rock n' roll pioneer

A GENETIC DEFICIENCY

Last year, I read an article in the Fall River Herald News that told of a harrowing occurrence in my hometown of Tiverton, Rhode Island, just across the border from Fall River. The Tiverton Town Council voted to disallow a band concert at the town beach because the groups played rock n’ roll music. A councilwoman stated, "We don’t want that kind of stuff in Tiverton." She then alleged that one of the groups had used an obscenity in a concert the year before in Fall River.

First, she was wrong about the obscenity. A person brought the case to court in an attempt to shut down the group. The judge listened to a taped recording of the group and then lambasted the plaintiff for brining such a fraudulent case into the court system. There was no obscenity.

The oddest part of the case in Tiverton, however, was not about obscenities. The person who stated that rock n’ roll music was unwelcome in my home town was a generation younger than I. I thought all the horse merde about rock n’ roll being a degenerate art form was a dead issue years ago. I was wrong.

A few days ago, Oceanside, a city in San Diego County, California, pulled a similar stunt. The Oceanside school board has banned all contemporary music that may have unsuitable lyrics at school functions. There were no specifics. It is up to the committee to decide.

Oceanside is the same city that is attempting to purchase a $6,500 plaque (with taxpayer money) that states "In God We Trust," and place it outside the City Council chambers. First God, then censorship in the public arena in Oceanside.

One of the reasons given in banning contemporary music is that it portrays violence. If they are consistent in their messages, the city officials should ban the song "Onward Christian Soldiers" because of its violent and bigoted messages.

With the advent of rock n’ roll in the 1950s came an outcry stating the music was immoral. One of the innovators of the time was Little Richard, an outrageous performer who dressed flamboyantly and hinted that he was homosexual. This was too much for the people of his hometown, Macon, Georgia. He was escorted to the city line by police and told never to return to Macon. Ironically, when he returns to Macon today, he is considered a hero. There is even a street named after him.

By the early 1960s, the edge had been worn off the anti-rock n’ roll movement. With time, even original naysayers began to begrudgingly like the art form. Then came the Beatles and the British invasion. Music groups were again chastised by the elders of American society. In addition to playing the devil’s music, they were scruffy and the smoked dope. A standard question in 1964 in Britain was, "Would you let your daughter go out with a Rolling Stone?" in reference to the group the Rolling Stones. The Stones’ lead singer, Mick Jagger, was the epitome of non-cool. He was shabbily dressed and gyrated his hips so much that he made Elvis Presley look sedate. How times have changed. Mick Jagger has been knighted by the Queen of England.

In the early 1970s, the smoke had cleared and all types of music were being accepted and false dress codes had gone by the wayside. Rock n’ roll music started and finished a revolution as big as the world had ever seen.

However, things have gradually reverted to the 1950s attitude. In 1972, the popular group The Who produced an anthem for the counterculture. It was called "Don’t Get Fooled Again." The title was a warning not to become complacent after changes in society were made. They also could be reversed. In a prophetic manner, the song ended with the line, "Meet the new boss, same as the old boss."

We are now experiencing the time of "the old boss" in the United States. TV presentations, whether drama, comedy or documentaries are coming under fire for using "improper" language. Rock n’ roll songs are being banned. Even sports events are being scrutinized. And the perpetrators are the same people who, one or two generations ago, were the warriors in America’s culture war. Only today, they have changed sides. Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.

Let’s take a look at some famous and not-so-famous milestones in rock n’ roll music that concern perceived and real use of obscenities.

The most-recorded rock n’ roll song of all time is Louie, Louie. It has been recorded by thousands of groups and singers and has been used as the theme song for movies and events. The truth is that had it not been for some faulty recording equipment and the hoarse voice of the lead singer of an obscure group called The Kingsmen, the song would still be considered a little-known West Indian folk offering.

In 1956, Richard Berry wrote and recorded the song Louie, Louie. It was a mild hit on the Pacific Cost in 1957. The three-verse sailor’s lament was sung in the style of a laid-back ballad. The lyrics were patterned after West Indian English. Soon after, it faded away into obscurity.

The song never totally lost popularity in the Northwest, despite its demise elsewhere. In the early 1960s, the song became popular in the region and various groups recorded it using different styles. However, it still failed to catch on outside the area.

In 1963, two Portland-area bands recorded Louie, Louie: The Kingsmen and Paul Revere and the Raiders. By the end of 1963, both versions were fighting for national dominance. Eventually, The Kingsmen version was the winner and the definitive version of Louie, Louie was established.

In 1964, the song sold millions and millions of copies. Overnight, The Kingsmen were famous and rich. However, the song was popular neither because of its musical adroitness, nor its world class lyrics. It was a smash hit because the kids who bought it thought the words were somewhat different from those of the song. Once a few copies were sold, the word spread like wildfire and nothing could stop the record from taking its place in the history of rock n’ roll.

Here are the lyrics:

Louie, Louie, me gotta go. Louie, Louie, me gotta go.

A fine little girl, she wait for me; me catch a ship across the sea. I sailed the ship all alone; I never think I’ll make it home.

Three nights and days we sailed the sea; me think of girl constantly. On the ship, I dream she there; I smell the rose in her hair.

Me see Jamaica moon above; it won’t be long me see me love. Me take her in my arms and then I tell her I never leave again.

The words as sung by The Kingsmen sounded anything like the real words. The listeners began to affix their own words to the song. Despite the differences in interpretation, some areas of the song gained universal translation. Suddenly, "Louie, Louie, me gotta go," became "Louie, Louie, grab her way down low." "Three nights and days we sailed the sea; me think of girl constantly," was transformed into, "Each night at ten, I lay her again; I fuck my girl all kinds of ways." The ending of the song changed from "Me take her in my arms and then I tell her I never leave again," to "I’ll take her in my arms again and tell her I’ll lay her again."

When Louie, Louie came on the AM radio of a car, every teenager ceased talking about the subject matter at hand and reverently began to sing the adapted lyrics. No other song of its time had such an impact. Every few years, the song re-emerged and went to the top of the charts.

How did The Kingsmen create such an aberration of a ballad that turned into a rock n’ roll anthem? First of all, they changed the tempo of the song to one of a hard-rocking, drum and organ-driven song. Before it was recorded, their version of Louie, Louie sounded much different from the slower-paced Richard Berry offering, but the words sounded the same. On the day The Kingsmen recorded Louie, Louie, several factors emerged that made the classic come out the way it did. The lead singer has strained his voice the night before while singing in a 90-minute Louie, Louie marathon. He also was wearing braces on his teeth on the day of the recording. The microphone in the studio was set way too high for the lead singer and he had to stand on his tiptoes to get near the mike. To make matters worse, the group thought the recording was a rehearsal for their real offering, but it turned out to be the only take of the song. In other words, The Kingsmen thought they had blown their chance of recording Louie, Louie because the result was a song that was totally different from the version they played to live audiences. Were they wrong.

The F.B.I spent more than two years attempting to decipher the lyrics of the song and determine if they were obscene. They called in every so-called expert, except the group itself, to gain opinions. After spending more than a quarter of a million dollars on the project, the sleuths’ verdict was that it was inconclusive whether the song stepped outside the boundaries of decency.

From 1963 to 1972, many rock n’ roll songs upped the ante for openness. Some openly extolled the virtues of marijuana use, while others spoke openly of sex. However, not one used the "f" word. When that barrier was broken, nobody seemed to notice.

In 1972, the Kinks released a song called Ape Man. It was about a person who decided to live in the jungle away from society. In it, the line "and the air pollution was a fuckin’ up my eyes" came forward. Because the song was sung in a reggae style before reggae became in vogue, censors thought the singer said "foggin’ up my eyes." Unlike Louie, Louie, this was real, yet nobody thought the "f" word had been uttered. This was just the opposite effect from the experience of The Kingsmen. One fact that could explain why there was no furor over the word was that Ape Man was not a big hit in the U.S. In Britain, it sold many records and the British are less uptight about what are called obscenities.

Then came Frank Zappa, a musical genius who went well below gutter level in his lyrics. There is not an obscenity, or a variant of, in the English language that Zappa did not use in his prolific songwriting and singing career. He sang of every sexual divergence and perverse action that a human being could encounter; and some that no human being probably has. He gave advice such as "don’t eat yellow snow," all the time speaking of Nanuk the Eskimo and his "teeny weenie." No body part, either on a male or female, or bodily function of, was left out of Zappa’s repertoire.

Zappa knew he was pushing the boundaries in his recordings. He also had a great sense of humor. One time, he came out with a song called "I Promise Not To Come in Your Mouth." Many fans bought this offering, eager to see what kind of bizarre lyrics Zappa would affix to the subject. It was an instrumental.

Despite all his unconventional songs, Zappa was a musical genius. He once conducted the London Symphony Orchestra. In France, he was invited by Rene Goulet to collaborate on an album of songs. Goulet is considered by many to be the top musical genius in the world. He is so good that the French government created a cabinet post for music and named Goulet its minister.

Zappa can be perceived as genius or jester, depending on one’s views of popular or classical music. However, his brightest moment came in Washington D.C., in the 1980s when he appeared before the U.S. Congress and saved the American public from a diabolical scheme that would have censored music and been the beginning of a witch hunt in the country for anyone who did not adhere to the cultural mainstream.

Tipper Gore, wife of the former vice-president and 2000 presidential candidate, Al Gore, took to the floor and presented a plan where record albums would be rated and, ultimately, censored. Her version of culture made Disney look x-rated. There was little opposition.

Zappa, by then a recluse who worked 20 hours a day at his home/studio in Los Angeles, went to Washington. He wore a stringlike necktie that was about 30 years old and then he presented the case for freedom. He made Gore and company look like the jerks they were. He was so eloquent that his opposition was hard-pressed to even attempt to rebut his statements. When the smoke cleared, Gore and comrades quietly left the city, never to bring up the subject again. Then, Zappa went back home to his work.

Soon after his Washington appearance, Zappa was misdiagnosed during a medical checkup. He was given a clean bill of health, yet he was experiencing the beginning of prostate cancer. When he finally was diagnosed correctly, it was too late. Medical experts stated that if he was diagnosed at his earlier checkups, he would have easily conquered the disease. Zappa died at age 52. Way too young.

The human race suffers from a genetic deficiency called the ugly disease of adulthood. This disease takes hold on people who were once open and their minds were clear. They could spot deceit and hypocrisy in humans, yet they were too young to be heard by their elders. They were told to be seen and not heard.

With such ostracizing, the once-honest people begin to gather symptoms of the full-blown disease. Finally, they succumb and become similar to those adults who are hypocritical, deceitful and egotistical. As the disease progresses, it becomes uglier and uglier. In its full-blown state, right and wrong, lying and telling the truth, creativity and copying, greed and altruism, hypocrisy and integrity all become interchangeable. And few question the results.

Zappa was rare in that he never contracted this ugly disease. His work, whether at a crass rock n’ roll level, or on a world-class classical level represented his criticism of the insincerity one acquires as he/she ages.

There is one irony present in this discussion that Zappa would have easily seen and pointed out. Many of those people in Tiverton, Rhode Island and Oceanside, California who denigrate rock n’ roll music and are attempting to censor it, a few decades ago were the same people who, while cruising in their automobiles, enthusiastically joined in the chorus "Each night at ten, I lay her again; I fuck my girl all kinds of ways." They had not yet contracted the ugly disease of adulthood.