Little Richard was always a part of my life. Even though he was a country fan, my dad regularly referenced the Little Richard hits “Lucille” and “Good Golly Miss Molly”” when I was a tot. While he wasn’t as towering a figure as Elvis Presley, Little Richard- along with Chuck Berry, Fats Domino, Buddy Holly and Jerry Lee Lewis- was an integral part of popular culture throughout my childhood.
I was surprised to discover Little Richard’s essential recordings for the Specialty label weren’t readily available when I began intentionally building a music library as a teenager. I was obligated to buy a pricey British import. The thick vinyl and sturdy packaging gave the album pride of place in my collection.
I acquired the faux autograph pictured above at a 2004 concert at the Austin Music Hall during SXSW. Many people at the festival were nonplussed by Little Richard’s proselytizing, but I always understood his Saturday-night-and-Sunday-morning conflict was essential to the art of the legend who was the personification of rock and roll. He died May 9.
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I still haven’t processed the April 30 death of Tony Allen. Just writing these words makes it too overwhelming to elaborate further.
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I worked in a record store when What Up, Dog was released in 1988. The contributions of Hillard “Sweet Pea” Atkinson convinced the entire staff to embrace the Was (Not Was) album. I believe I last saw Atkinson perform as a member of Lyle Lovett’s band.
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Disco innovator Hamilton Bohannon died April 24.
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Richie Cole died May 1. I saw the Charlie Parker acolyte perform once or twice.
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I walked to Paris Blues from my AirBnb in Harlem 15 months ago. The band was terrible, but the roadhouse vibe was sublime. The joint’s founder and owner Samuel Hargess Jr. died April 10.
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The threat of lawsuits forced me to delete two There Stands the Glass posts during the past 15 years. One made a passing reference to a then-obscure rapper from Toronto. The other documented a performance by “Bad Company” at a corporate party. I showed up fully expecting to see Mick Ralphs. I got Brian Howe instead. The vocalist and his band were fine, but the host was incensed by my sardonic take.
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Moraes Moreira’s obituary in The New York Times sent me down an extremely rewarding rabbithole. The Brazilian’s astounding self-titled 1975 album combines MPB with classic rock. Much of his earlier work with Novos Baianos is equally surprising.
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My life partner and I still laugh about family and friends who maintain a steadfast allegiance to commercial country acts of the ‘70s and ‘80s. These hitmakers were referred to with affectionate abbreviations like the Stats, the Oaks and the Gats. I’d hear demands like “Cousin Bill, put on the Stats.” We bonded while fondly goofing on Harold Reid’s bass singing on Statler Brothers lyrics like “smoking cigarettes and watching Captain Kangaroo” and “I’m in love with Mary Lou.” Reid died last month.
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Confession: I thought Kraftwerk was a novelty band throughout the 1970s heyday of the groundbreaking ensemble. Kraftwerk cofounder Florian Schneider died last month.
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I was too young to understand the mechanisms behind the push, but the Kansas City rock radio station KY-102 played Missouri’s “Movin’ On” to death in the late ‘70s. I worked with a member of the band a few years later. He refused to talk about the experience. Ron West, another member of Missouri, died May 2.
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I recognized the May 10 death of Betty Wright by marveling at concert footage of the soul hero’s dynamite performance in London in 1992.
(Original image by There Stands the Glass.)
