Lee Lewis is lascivious - the dirty young man of rock. Anyone expelled by British moralists must be good, and since the controversial closedown of his shows ten years ago, the situation hasn't much changed. At his recent concert at the London Palladium, Jerry Lee Lewis was booed by the Teddy Boys when he sang country and bored by himself when he sang rock. During the first half of the programme, an insulting assortment of dry-cleaned Neasden hillbillies, the Teds held the bars and barmen: 'Hey Square!' 'Yes, sir, Coming, sir, What-will-you-have, sir?' I suppose many of us were there in homage to our past, recalling his incitement to those of us then on a moral threshold: 'Come on over, baby, Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin On.' Lewis finally bounced on stage, a great ball of fire-engine red stretch-uit, launched into 'Roll Over Beethoven', assimilating it with another oldie (to demonstrate his contempt for them, musically). It seemed that sinning had agreed with him. He wore extravagant diamond rings and handled the piano with the fire of Little Richard and dexterity of Chico Marx. 'Jerry Lee', chanted the Teds, just like they do on those LPs from mighty fine Birmingham, Alabama. But this was a country tour and Jerry was in a country mood. When the Teds got impatient, which was always, Jerry would appease them with fragments from the classics, promising: "We'll come to that ... We're soon gonna have a Whole Lotta ... etc. Sometimes a jiving phalanx of Teds stormed the aisles, but more like a veteran's picnic, in ceremony not in siege; and somehow the house ushers were bigger, burlier, younger, managing always to drive them back into the stalls. Could you keep singing 'What'd I Say' fifteen years later? Personally, I'm partial to those white swamp whines about Cheatin' Hearts and Who Will The Next Fool Be, so I could share his getting high on the music he really loves. But the Teds intransigence threw the mood, jolting Jerry into the wrong burning to communicate his changed tastes to the drape-suits. Whether country or classic, it was all redneck rock. 'Watch it, boy', Lewis intoned to the young (white) drummer whose wrist had slipped, and one sensed that the entire onstage ensemble voted George Wallace. There wasn't a black face to be seen. 'This next song is for my wives', said Lewis and he chatted semi-coherently about his famous 13-year-old bride. Despite nimble fingers, his brain seemed numb.Yet the power was still there, the sleazy sexuality, the contagious aggression, all weighed down by the bitterness of not being able to break out of his own musical history. On a previous tour, when the Teds were in full control, Lewis was compelled to crawl on to the piano, mouth foaming, as in the faded film clips. It is said, he staggered off-stage screaming: 'Christ! That is definitely the last damned time... Quick, give me some grass'. 'Lewis is dead', muttered a Ted, after the Palladium. And so he is. And so is 1957. |
