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The Legends of Laurel Canyon
1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die
It’s So Hard To Tell Who’s Going To Love You The Best
Karen Dalton
Transfiguration of Vincent
M. Ward
Muswell Hillbillies
Kinks
Christmas in the Heart
Bob Dylan
Glitter and Doom Live
Tom Waits
Let It Roll: The Best of George Harrison
George Harrison
Secret, Profane & Sugarcane
Elvis Costello
Playing for Change
Songs Around the World
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Pat Boone
"Wop-Bop-A-Loo-Bop A-Lop-Bam-Boom." Is this onomatopoeia for "Wham bam, thank you, ma'am"? I dunno. If it is, then it's a "dirty" song. If it isn't, then it's insane nonsense. In the ‘50s, inquiring minds wanted to know. Either way, it's raw rock and roll at it's finest. No holds barred, just let loose and scream. I wish I could have a dollar for every button that kids popped off of their pajamas while jumping up and down on their beds singing along with Little Richard.
Richard Penniman grew up on a dirt street in an impoverished section of Macon, Georgia. Music was everywhere. Street vendors and evangelists who paraded down his block would sing as loud as they could, whether selling vegetables or religion, to get the attention of the folks inside. All the neighborhood sang freely, as well, improvising on spiritual songs to keep them company while they worked. Some gospel singers, particularly Marion Williams of the Clara Ward Singers, Sister Rosetta Tharpe and Mahalia Jackson also had a profound influence on 'little' Richard.
While growing up, Little Richard was close to impossible to control. He had an infectious, hyperactive personality that was contagious and made him popular, but it also got him into trouble. His homosexuality didn't help matters, so one night he left home with a traveling minstrel show. With his crazy antics and wild style, he constantly drew attention to himself. Soon he was offered a contract with RCA and recorded a minor local hit called "Every Hour". A local musician named Esquerita took an interest in Little Richard and taught him some piano technique and maybe a thing or two about style. Then suddenly, in the winter of 1952, Little Richard's father was murdered. He felt compelled to help support his family, and took a job washing dishes at the local Greyhound bus station.
RCA lost interest in its protege, but Little Richard remained musically active and formed a band called the Tempo Toppers. He was subsequently signed to Don Robey's Peacock Records, but the group recorded little of note. His next band, the Upsetters, recorded a demo and sent it off to Art Rupe of Specialty Records. Because the demo was anything but spectacular, Rupe let a few months pass. Little Richard called the label relentlessly, though, and eventually Rupe decided to take a chance. He arranged a recording session at New Orleans' J&M Studios, owned by Cosimo Matassa and the home studio of Fats Domino and Lloyd Price. Bumps Blackwell was, for lack of a better title, the artistic supervisor at Specialty Records, and it was his responsibility to meet Little Richard and record the session.
Initially, Blackwell was no more successful than his predecessors. The songs that Little Richard chose were generally slow blues and Blackwell felt that none of them were particularly good. He called for a break, so Richard and the band retired to the Dew Drop Inn. With a few people inside and an old upright piano, Richard's effusive personality got the best of him. He started playing like crazy, singing loud, lewd and hamming it up. Blackwell was stunned - why couldn't he record this ? He got a local lyricist named Dorothy LaBostrie to clean up the lyric, and they went back to J&M with only fifteen minutes remaining to their session. "Tutti frutti, good booty" became "Tutti frutti, aw-rootie." Three takes later, it was in the bag.
"Tutti Frutti" became a big hit on the R&B charts. Once again though, the opportunistic white media took advantage and once again, Pat Boone was enlisted to sing a cover version. To hear Boone's version today is simultaneously hysterical and sobering. Little Richard generously credits Boone with inadvertently helping his own version cross over to the pop charts, and this is probably true. A lot of kids never would have heard "Tutti Frutti" if Pat Boone hadn't covered it, but one thing is for sure: when they were popping the buttons on their pj's, Little Richard's version was on the record player.

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