When it comes to vocalists—male, female, whale, Sasquatch, you name it—it’s hard to top Wanda “The Queen of Rockabilly” Jackson. For a couple of years at the end of the 1950s and the beginning of the 1960s Jackson recorded a bunch of truly hair-raising vocal performances that generated every bit as much feral excitement and raw sexual energy as the ones being recorded by Elvis Presley (whom she dated for a brief spell), Jerry Lee Lewis, Gene Vincent, and Little Richard. The very much alive Jackson possesses vocal cords made of barbed wire, and has never met a tempo—most of them played back in the day with lethal intensity by a relatively unsung young guitar slinger named Roy Clark—so raucous she couldn’t rein it in. And she can yodel up a storm, too.
There were other women singing rockabilly during its golden age; Janis Martin, for example, who was unfortunate enough to have the moniker “the Female Elvis” hung around her neck like an albatross. But Martin had a more staid vocal style that came up short in the barbaric yawp department, and for the most part the same goes for Lorrie Collins of novelty act the Collins Kids, who had her moments of inspiration (check out her wonderfully frenzied take on “Mercy”) but who rarely roamed into the realm of the possessed. Jackson was a full-grown woman and her voice was a force of nature in 1961, and still is; just listen to the 73-year-old Jackson kick up a rockin’ ruckus out on such raunch’n’roll numbers as “Shakin’ All Over” and “Rip It Up” on 2011’s Jack White-produced The Party Ain’t Over if you have any doubts about the matter.
On 1961’s There’s a Party Goin’ On Jackson was at the peak of her rockabilly powers and poised to go country, which was the smart move for an Oklahoma City girl with country music in her veins after the rockabilly craze went belly up. With her band the Party Timers, Jackson—who declared herself the first woman to put “glamour into country music” with her fringe dresses, high heels, and long earrings—jumped, wailed, and growled, and the best tracks on There’s a Party Goin’ On are every bit as crazy, daddy-o as those produced by Elvis, Gene, Little Richard, etc.
Take “Hard Headed Woman,” which opens with a quintessential Chuck Berry riff and goes full-tilt boogie thanks to some of the raspiest vocals ever committed to vinyl. The piano is madcap honky-tonk times ten, Clark’s guitar playing is maniacal, and Jackson’s performance is nothing less than life altering. I’ve always been of the opinion that nobody could come close to Jerry Lee Lewis at his most unhinged, but I’ll be damned if the great Miss Jackson doesn’t give him a run for the money. And she’s every bit as awe-inspiring on “Tongue-Tied,” on which she gets tongue-tied, growls like a wild animal, delivers some great “Woos!” and in general delivers a performance for the ages.
Jackson’s vocals on the title track are every bit as dumbfoundingly thrilling, as is Clark’s impeccably mean playing. The song swings and jumps and in general inspires joy, and album closer and party autopsy “Man We Had a Party” is just as hopping. Clark plays some of the greatest guitar I’ve ever heard, and like Jackson sings, if you missed the blast it’s too bad. Meanwhile, “Lonely Week-Ends” bounces along effervescently like a good Buddy Holly song, and—just as she does on several of the tracks on There’s a Party Goin’ On—Jackson substitutes slinky sex appeal for wild cat yowl. And the same goes double for companion piece “Lost Week-End” (“Every day is a long week-end/Every day since my baby said goodbye”) and the very cool “Sparkling Brown Eyes.”
Indeed, one of the most fascinating things about There’s a Party Goin’ On is that it demonstrates there are two Wanda Jacksons—the one who sounds possessed by the evil juju of rock’n’roll madness and the more tempered one who would seamlessly make the transition to the dark side of commercial country music. The Wanda Jackson who sings such tunes as the irresistible “Fallin’,” the more country than rockabilly “It Doesn’t Matter Anymore,” and the hoary old chestnut “Kansas City” still swaggers, but she reins it down a notch or three, and those barbed wire vocal cords of hers are mostly absent.
But if Jackson doesn’t come on like a human tornado on every song on There’s a Party Goin’ On, this is still one party you do not want to miss because it’s a house wrecker. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t prefer the unhinged Wanda Jackson, but the other Wanda Jackson is still an exciting singer in her own right, and together they give everybody at the party something to love. Put this one on what Jackson calls the “hi-fi machine” and turn the lights down low, and man you’ll have a party. “Whew, talk about a party!”
GRADED ON A CURVE:
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