Sun Records, that Memphis, TN institution and essential building block of 20th century music, turns 70 years old this year. To mark the anniversary, The Sam Phillips Years: Sun Records Curated by Record Store Day: Vol. 9, focuses on a diverse slate of material recorded by the man who made it all possible. Straight blues, R&B, C&W, and rockabilly (of course) are well represented as the sequence rolls forth, and as the latest installment in ORG Music’s annual series of limited edition vinyl issued in alignment with Record Store Day (which is celebrating 15 years of existence in 2022), it holds up just dandy.
For those drawn to raw sounds like moths fluttering around an uncovered bulb, it’s easy to spend hours delving into the early years of Sun Records. And so, for folks assuming that after nine volumes, ORG Music’s worthy endeavor might be running on fumes, I’m chuffed to relate that it’s not that way. And there’s also an appealing sense of wrapping around to the beginning of the series (not to infer that the undertaking is winding down): Vol. 9 shares five artists with Vol. 1 and eight with Vol. 2.
This set gathers a dozen cuts all picked by record store employees, with six on each side and the ceaselessly stomping rockabilly of Sonny Burgess’ “We Wanna Boogie” kicking off the mania. As the track hurdles forth it’s difficult to decide what’s sweeter, Richard Nance’s trumpet splatter or the caustic guitar solo courtesy of either Burgess or Joe Lewis.
Issued in 1956, “We Wanna Boogie” is the undiluted essence of foundational rockabilly, with Burgess and the band going for it so hard they’re barely able to keep it together (Kern Kennedy’s unwavering piano thunder serves as the anchor), while the addition of that trumpet undermines the codified rules set forth by the retro-‘billy brigades over what the stuff is “supposed” to sound like. It’s a truly wonderful thing.
Amazingly, “We Wanna Boogie” was a B-side, as was Johnny Cash’s “Big River,” which accompanied the somewhat atypical pop market flirtation “Ballad of a Teenage Queen.” Although “Big River” does land pretty securely inside the parameters of Cash and the Tennessee Two’s established ’50s sound, the song benefits from a loose-stringed intensity that solidifies the band’s rockabilly bona fides, even as it hits non-slick C&W right in the bullseye.
And on the subject of rockabilly, nobody did it better than Carl Perkins, even as “Everybody’s Trying to Be My Baby” makes it abundantly clear the man was more sophisticated (not the term, really) vocally, instrumentally, and as a songwriter (although this particular cut was originally by Rex Griffin) than most of the other ‘billy-angled acts that passed through Phillips’ studio. The spring-action rhythms are in full effect and it seems Perkins is always on the edge of a hiccup. It’s pretty spectacular.
Complete with steel guitar, fiddle and vocal harmony, The Miller Sisters’ “Someday You Will Pay” lands solidly on the C&W side of the fence, going down as nicely as a bottle of cold Coke with peanuts in it. The song is pretty far afield from the sound casual listeners generally think of when considering the Sun Records legacy, but of course, many of those ears aren’t attuned to the R&B and blues in the Sun story either, which is really one of the major motivations for ORG-RSD string of spotlights on the label.
And that brings us to Rosco Gordon’s “Booted,” with the thudding, strolling and honking cohering into a glorious blend of the refined and the primal as Gordons’ thick croon is the icing on the cake. And it’s followed by Little Milton’s “Ooo Wee Baby,” which captures the noted blues smoothie in a far less erudite mode, sounding more than a little like Fats Domino to close side one.
The flip opens with Roy Orbison’s “Claudette,” a minor gem from the enduring icon’s early ‘billy days that, like the Perkins’ track on side one, reinforces talent of uncommon depth from inside the confines of an inspired rocker. The voice and the sensitivity are both in evidence, subtly elevating the music above scads of other like-minded examples from the era while solidifying the foundation from whence Orbison sprang (important, as he traveled pretty far stylistically, more so than Perkins and Cash).
From there, we swing back into bluesy R&B mode with a tough jumper from James Cotton, “Straighten Up Baby.” Now, some frowning sticklers might be carping that this number, while worthy, isn’t as primal as “Cotton Crop Blues” (which didn’t hit wax in this series until the blues-focused Vol. 7). While that’s true, it’s basically a moot point given how hard the rhythm hits (and yet how lithe it is) during the sax solo.
But if its primal you want, look no further than “Tiger Man” by Rufus Thomas Jr. Like Little Milton, along with Sun, Thomas recorded for both Chess and Stax, as his long association with the latter label helped to ensconce him as Memphis musical royalty, wielding a sense of humor situating him as a prototype of sorts for Biz Markie. But here, he’s a bit like Jay Hawkins in a hill blues frame of mind, and that’s splendid.
Next is Pinetop Perkins with “Pinetop’s Boogie Woogie,” a robust and wholly legit serving of the rollicking titular piano style (a cover of Pinetop Smith’s song of the same name from 1928) by a guy who ended up in Muddy Water’s 1970s band (playing alongside James Cotton) and who recorded and performed well into the 21st century (he passed in 2011).
Much of the early Sun material still connects like it’s simply going to fly off the rails, but Perkins is unwavering in his delivery and with bucketloads of panache. It’s quite a contrast to Charlie Feathers’ “So Ashamed,” which finds the rockabilly legend sidestepping the hopped up zone for an excursion into pure country, and with a particular similarity to Hank Williams.
Feathers’ handle on the merger of heartache and twang is substantial as it sets up the album’s final selection, Jerry Lee Lewis’ sturdy and impassioned dive into “When the Saints Go Marching In.” It’s the sort of chestnut well-suited for the guy’s prickly sentimental personality, establishing that his sense of nostalgia was in place even at the beginning of his recording career; the track is sourced from his debut LP.
The song’s inclusion on Lewis’ first record illuminates the wide open and undefined nature of the music Phillips was capturing in his studio and releasing on his label. And the inclusion of “When the Saints Go Marching In” on The Sam Phillips Years drives home that the music’s potency is undiminished. Bring on Vol. 10.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
A-
