Down Home Shakedown: 5 Songs From Artists That Built Elvis

This week's songs are from Arthur 'Big Boy' Crudup, Willie Mae 'Big Mama' Thornton, Phineas (and Calvin) Newborn, Bobby 'Blue' Bland, and Otis Blackwell

“Before Elvis there was nothing” - John Lennon

Hitting the sweet spot of two of my favorite interests (music and old Letterman clips), YouTube recently recommended an interview and performance from Otis Blackwell on Letterman’s NBC show in the early 80s. In it, he talks about getting a $25 advance for each song he wrote for record labels in the 1950s. One of those songs was “Don’t Be Cruel,” another was “All Shook Up.” He felt it was good money. But $25 was also what Tin Pan Alley songwriters were getting in the 20s and 30s, so I’m surprised he felt that way. Ultimately, for Elvis to record “Don’t Be Cruel,” Blackwell had to give up a third of his royalties. The segment also includes a solid performance of “Don’t Be Cruel” showing off a still-youthful voice.

A couple of weeks later, I spotted Before Elvis by Preston Lauterbach in a bookstore. My interest already piqued, I picked it up. It tells the life stories of the working artists in Elvis’ immediate environment, those whose styles he cribbed from in his early days, both before he shot to fame, and what happened to them after. That Elvis was adopting black style, making it palatable for white audiences, was not (and should not) be news to anyone.

But I’ve included a little more history in here than usual, because these artists’ lives are just as interesting as their music.

“Elvis was a hero to most, but he never meant shit to me” - Public Enemy, ‘Fight the Power’

As was the case with Dilla Time and Detroit, I’m amazed by how interconnected the politics, social environs, even infrastructure, and technology are infused and reflected in the local artists and their art. Elvis could not have come from anywhere but Memphis in the early 1950s. But the African American artists from around Memphis whom he took elements from—songs, style & stage presence, phrasing—could’ve been swindled out of fortunes any time, any place. When Elvis shot to fame, these artists met the same music industry bullshit many are struggling with today (it’s the same reason why “Taylor’s Version” is a thing). But to say the quiet part out loud: being Black in America did these folks no favors.

While they didn’t have the complete package that shot Elvis to superstardom, they had talent and artistry all their own, which would (eventually) earn them the respect, accolades, and credit as pioneers they deserve.

Here are 5 songs from the artists who shaped Elvis.

“I got it from them. Down in Tupelo, Mississippi, I used to hear old Arthur Crudup band his box the way I do now and I said if I ever got to the place I could feel all old Arthur felt, I’d be a music man like nobody ever saw.” - Elvis Presley

Arthur “Big Boy” Crudup - “I’m Gonna Dig Myself a Hole”

Elvis’s first record for Sam Phillips’ Sun Records, “That’s All Right,” was a faithful cover of an Arthur “Big Boy” Crudup song. Like Elvis (or any artist), Crudup picked up elements of style and phrasing from other musicians. His “That’s All Right” had traces of a myriad of songs dating as far back as the 1920s. Originality, inspiration, lifting—it’s a tradition and way of learning that goes much farther back than copyright law.

Crudup played in the same Southern circuit as Big Mama Thornton, Sonny Boy Williamson, and Junior Parker, whose “Mystery Train” was also among Presley’s first records. Crudup had as many fortunes taken from him by record companies as he did comebacks. Having left music for a time, his career (and many of his royalties) were revived by Dick Waterman. It wasn’t until after his death that his family finally got what Crudup was owed most of his life. His last performances were opening for Bonnie Raitt, a Waterman client.

With “I’m Gonna Dig Myself a Hole,” we think we’re in for a bluesman feeling sorry for himself. But he’s not digging a hole for himself. What stands out musically is that the song is effectively jump blues—the connective tissue of jazz to R&B and early Rock & Roll. It’s got the swinging, walking bass line, a pleading guitar riff in the refrain, and a strong enough beat that the couples dancing to it wouldn’t pay any mind to the sinister lyrics.

“Artists are artists and businessmen are businessmen. But the trouble is, the artists’ money stays in the businessman’s hands.” - Big Mama Thornton

Willie Mae “Big Mama” Thornton - “School Boy”

Big Mama Thornton was the original performer and co-writer of “Hound Dog,” along with songwriting team Jerry Leiber & Mike Stoller. But due to a harsh arrangement, the one-man mafia Don Robey claimed all credits for the tune. Robey was known for his aggressive and violent tactics. Apparently, Little Richard once asked Robey for an increase in royalties for songs he wrote and recorded and the response he got was a swift punch in the stomach. While it amounts to grand theft, Thornton at least got something for the recording ($500); Credited Songwriters Leiber & Stoller didn’t fare so well—the $1,200 check Robey gave them bounced.

Much of that lore is well known. What I was less familiar with is that the hard-living and harder-drinking Thornton ultimately made her way out to San Francisco, where her local performances helped create the scene from which not only the Grateful Dead emerged, but also Big Brother & the Holding Company. Janis Joplin, who helped bring Big Brother to fame, was a Thornton disciple who went to the Bay Area to meet her. Thornton was embraced by white audiences during the second wave of blues-based rock in the late 60s. When Big Brother & the Holding Company covered Thornton’s “Ball & Chain,” as the properly credited songwriter, Thornton saw a windfall, and her audience grew. The Grateful Dead even played as her pickup band at a gig in 1968, and she once jammed with Stevie Ray Vaughan for an impromptu gig in Montreal.

Here is “School Boy,” from a 1965 recording session that includes Buddy Guy on guitar, and ‘Mississippi’ Fred McDowell on slide—both legends in their own right. A concert reviewer once said Thornton’s sexual ‘innuendo’ could “make the movements of Tom Jones seem lame.” Here, that quality as captured in her voice alone. The train-like charging thrust of Guy’s guitar, the high-treble of McDowell’s slide, and the lustful suggestion of the lyrics—it’s all there. The only element missing from the Sun Studios hits is that iconic “Slapback” echo.

“I played my guitar like I was having sex with a woman, thrusting my hips faster until I fell to the floor.” - Calvin Newborn

Phineas Newborn Jr. & Orchestra - “Tennessee Bounce”

Elvis would attend the same church as Phineas and Calvin Newborn’s grandmother. He would occasionally join them for dinner, and buy Gospel records at their Beale Street record store. Led into the music business by their father, drummer Phineas Newborn Sr., Calvin and Phineas Newborn were instructed in classical music first. Calvin took to showboating guitar playing at two segregated Memphis clubs: the Plantation Inn (white) and the Flamingo (black). Elvis was known to visit both. Many credit Calvin’s performance style as turning Elvis into Elvis—and one night at the Flamingo Calvin was all too happy to literally hand it off to him and see him run with it: “My dad knew it was time for Elvis Presley…He said. ‘Let Elvis play your guitar.’ He didn’t ask, he told me…Elvis did his thing and that was that.”

Ultimately, it was Calvin’s brother Phineas Newborn Jr. who’s talent would carry the family out of Memphis, first to Detroit, and then New York City. He would go on to work with a number of boldfaced names in jazz before suffering a nervous breakdown. The most frequent adjective you see describing his talent is ‘technical’, which doesn’t exactly spark much joy. But he was in B.B. King’s first band and was among the first to record a ‘boogie’ for Sam Phillips, demonstrating the power and potential of wild and fast music for the man who would put it on the map. Like Elvis, Calvin Newborn’s career was interrupted by a stint in the military in the late 50s. A lot of Calvin Newborn’s available output is jazz-based and not very interesting to my ears. However, Calvin has the interesting distinction of recording with both Sun Records and Sun Ra. On “Tennessee Bounce,” we can get a sense of the boogie style the Newborns introduced to Sam Phillips, but it also sounds pretty ‘technical’ and not much else. Calvin is playing guitar on the track. I can’t really hear it. But as far as I know, Calvin’s real talent was something to be seen.

“Their music is the real thing. Right from the heart.” - Elvis Presley, on Bobby Bland and Junior Parker

Bobby “Blue” Bland - “I Wouldn’t Treat a Dog (The Way You Treated Me)”

Bobby Bland was a Memphis contemporary of Johnny Ace, B.B. King, and Junior Parker before Ike Turner “discovered” him. Bland would record a number of unsuccessful tracks for Sun and Chess Records. Like Big Mama Thornton, he would end up working for Don Robey and struggle to break into the mainstream. Despite limited commercial success, his influence was boundless. In addition to being one of the many Black musicians Elvis expressed admiration for as he shot to fame, Van Morrison was a big fan, occasionally having Bland sing with him. Both Van Morrison and the Grateful Dead famously covered “Turn On Your Love Light,” first recorded by Bland (but credited to Don Robey). And that’s Bland’s “Ain’t No Love (In the Heart of the City)” sampled on Jay-Z's “Heart of the City.”

While there’s a lot of early 50s tracks from Bland worth checking out (I’m partial to “Woke Up Screaming” and “Baby I’m On My Way”), here we’ve got “I Wouldn’t Treat a Dog (The Way You Treated Me),” which is one of Bland’s bigger hits from 1974’s Dreamer. No 1950s early rock & roll relic, Bland evolved with the times and brought his soulful voice with him. This has the same easy swagger that makes your head bob and shoulders bounce the same way they do when you listen to Al Green, who also built his sound in Memphis.

“I used to sing all my own demos, and it just so happened that a lot of what Presley and Jerry Lee did sounded alike. I thought they did justice to the songs. They put the kind of feeling into it that I felt.” - Otis Blackwell

Otis Blackwell - “Let’s Talk About Us”

While he wasn’t among the Memphis musicians who influenced a pre-fame Elvis, Otis Blackwell’s link to Elvis was covered above. In addition to hits for Elvis, Blackwell also wrote major hits for other artists including Peggy Lee, the Who, and Jerry Lee Lewis. “Fever”? That’s Otis. “Great Balls of Fire” too. While content as a songwriter rather than a performer, Blackwell did release a few albums in the 1970s. What’s amazing about “Let’s Talk About Us” is that it’s easy to get past Elvis or other early Rock & Rollers and hear something else entirely. It’s got a revved-up blues boogie with an edge of angular guitars and a playful joy to the lyrics and vocal melody. You can hear it in Thin Lizzy, and yeah, there it is in the Stooges and the New York Dolls too.

Influences and ideas are always in flux. They take twists and turns and resurface in places you least expect them. Whenever it happens, it seems new and fresh. But chances are, somebody did it first.

Thanks for reading. Enjoy the listening.