Jerry Lee Lewis: The Collection

Who do you think actually represented the Teenage Spirit of Rock'n'Roll in the Fifties? Chuck Berry? Nay, he was a bit too professional and laid back for that. Little Richard? Too gospelish and much too weird. Besides, both were black, and these were the Fifties. Elvis? Perhaps. But Elvis was a seriously manufactured figure, and he sold out in a minute. Nay, nay, nay; the true spirit of rock'n'roll resided in that curly-haired Southerner called Jerry Lee who did 'my little boogie every day'. At one point, Jerry Lee was in my personal Top Ten performers of all time, and to this day, he's my favourite idol from the early period of the devil's music. Sloppy, drunk, braggard, self-indulgent, nasty and swaggerish, there is one truth you can't deny about him: he used to say he was the best, and that was the truth.
I mean, Jerry not only showed America and the world that you can rock out and be a teenage God when you're playing the piano. Little Richard played piano, too. Jerry showed the world that it isn't so much the instrument (which he was always great at playing), and it isn't so much the voice (which was arguably the best white voice in the business - cut that Elvis crap, please), but it's the attitude and the burnin' spirit that makes for excellent rock music and is really the most important thing in the whole business. Of course, you'll say that this sounds stupid - everybody had an attitude and enough spirit to burn. But Jerry Lee carried it out to the extreme - at least, as far as it was able to go in the Fifties. He was the Pete Townshend and the Johnny Rotten of the epoch, with one serious difference: he had no real 'anger' inside of him. His rebellion and smash-it-all-to-bits attitude was not really directed against anyone. On the contrary, deep inside Jerry was a totally ordinary, unpretentious guy who wanted to make pretty girls, have a big shiny car and a house to keep the booty in - the only thing he did was, ahem, resort to unusual measures in order to fulfill his dream.
In any case, Jerry was the Killer, no doubt about that. That ain't the problem. The problem is that this latest greatest compilation is as shamelessly short as it could be. Twelve songs? Do you realize how short this CD is? And that's the only CD issue of JLL I could lay my hands on; you don't know how much it depresses me. Thankfully, I have a couple more hit packages on vinyl, so this manages to comfort my unhappy days... If you're short on money and see this in some long forgotten used bin for something like half a cent, pick it up; if you're a bit more lucky, please buy a boxset or some other goodie that has more songs. As far as I understand, the All Killer No Filler compilation is pretty good, though it concentrates a bit too heavily on Jerry's country years. These were good, too: Jerry Lee is a tremendously underrated country performer, but still, it's his early Sun rock years that he'll always be remembered for, rather like Elvis.
Let's imagine, anyway, that this is your only Jerry Lee album in the world. In that case, if you're not charmed by the moment the first thunderesque vocals of 'Whole Lotta Shakin' Going On' echo throughout your room, you probably have an allergy on rock'n'roll and should be listening to Pat Boone instead. Jerry didn't write any of these songs except for 'Lewis Boogie' which wasn't that hard to write because it's just a clone of 'Great Balls Of Fire', and 'End Of The Road', which is quite good but not the best on here; however, he manages to make every single tune his own, including Chuck's 'Little Queenie'. I bet you all know the trademark Jerry Lee style: bash out the incredibly fast boogie-woogie rhythm on the piano, sing the vocals in a sly, sexually arousing tone, alternating raunchy low notes with an almost devilish falsetto, and, of course, amply demonstrate his killer abilities on the solo. The regular Sun players often assist him in the process, and Scotty Moore in person contributes guitar solos, so everything's as fun as it can only get. And, of course, 'Whole Lotta Shakin' Going On', 'Great Balls Of Fire', 'Breathless' and 'It'll Be Me' are timeless classics that transcend time and space with about the same easiness as a zombie transcends the walls of your bedroom. (Was that an unsatisfying metaphor?) Don't expect too much variety, though: the Sun company couldn't make a varied hit collection if the plan and the exact track listing were shoved under their nose. There are but two numbers dating from the Sixties, and they're inferior: 'Teen Age Letter' is not very convincing a rocker, and they couldn't have made a worse choice than 'I Can't Seem To Say Goodbye': doo-wop does not equal country, and bad doo-wop sure does not equal Cruising With Ruben & The Jets... Apart from that, there are a couple slower ballads which are quite fine: 'You Win Again', in fact, is one of the most well-known numbers in Jerry Lee's catalogue. I'm particularly impressed by the singing on that one: sometimes, when Jerry stretches out a note, it produces a somewhat grating effect, but more often I'm just left amazed at his impressive vocal range and, of course, all those tricks he could do with his voice... maybe it wasn't as technically gifted as Elvis's, but he certainly experimented with it much, much more than Elvis ever did.
Perhaps it's true that no studio recording can really capture the raw rock'n'roll excitement and the 'white heat' generated by JLL at his concerts (I'd sure love to see him pouring fuel on his piano and setting fire to it, as he did once or twice - and in that way preceded Pete Townshend as rock's first 'self-destructor' by almost ten years), but these Sun singles come pretty close. And the production is amazingly fresh, too; perhaps they have remastered everything, but the recording almost seems to be breathing out of your CD player. Just don't buy it: whoever wants a JLL CD with only twelve tracks on it?