Review: Brenda Lee - Brenda Lee (1960)

Tracks: 1) Dynamite; 2) Weep No More My Baby; 3) Jambalaya (On The Bayou); 4) (If I’m Dreaming) Just Let Me Dream; 5) Be My Love Again; 6) My Baby Likes Western Guys; 7) Sweet Nothin’s; 8) I’m Sorry; 9) That’s All You Gotta Do; 10) Heading Home; 11) Wee Wee Willies; 12) Let’s Jump The Broomstick.

REVIEW

Now this, of course, is the proper way to appreciate the real difference that Brenda Lee brought to the world of popular music — proper, but not optimal, since this 12-song retrospective of Brenda’s career from 1958 to 1960, released by Decca to capitalize on the smash success of Brenda’s first #1 hit on the charts (‘I’m Sorry’), is, as usual, woefully incomplete. Fortunately, nothing is easier in the digital age than to work out a proper chronological playlist, based on Brenda’s well-fixed discographies and sessionographies, and in the process, inflate this 12-song shortie from August 1960 with at least as many extra titles. My perfect Brenda Lee album ends up being a double LP, with 28 tracks, running close to 70 minutes — and while it does have a slightly larger percentage of filler than Decca’s condensed original, it also gives me a far more detailed and diverse portrayal of the artist. With that said, let’s jump the broomstick, reshuffle the tracks, and look at Brenda’s outstanding artistic curve from the start to the end of the Rule of Rockabilly era, single by single.

It’s important to note that the version of ‘Jambalaya’ presented on the LP, good as it is, is not the original single from 1956, famously credited by Decca to «Little Brenda Lee (9 Years Old)» even though she was already 11 at the time; the original single can only be found on alternate compilations. It is big fun on the bayou, though, to compare both versions. The early one, recorded in July 1956 with Grady Martin and Jack Shook on guitars, is creaky, croaky, raw Nashville-goes-rockabilly stuff, transforming Hank Williams’ ode to the delights of Cajun food into friendly rock’n’roll fervor and giving us the full range of Brenda’s vocal talent, from the perfectly choreographed hiccupy rockabilly jumps to the deep throaty roar on the chorus, just as amazing to see on an 11-year old as it would be on a 9-year old, honestly. But the stereo re-recording from 1960 is no slouch, either. It is more polished, adds extra layers of sax, piano, percussion, and backing vocals, and Brenda’s voice is a little more restrained and mature, but it still gradually whips itself into a frenzy with each new line in each verse, and besides, any recording that has Hank Garland, Floyd Cramer, and Boots Randolph honing their chops at the same time is automatically A-OK by me.

They did not re-record, or re-release, the B-side to that single, though, which is a pity, because ‘Bigelow 6-200’, contributed by a couple of little-known rockabilly songwriters (Don Woody and Paul Simmons), is, in some ways, even better than ‘Jambalaya’ — it’s just, who are those guys to compete with Hank Williams? But this is an even rawer, more guitar-heavy and rocking number that bears a certain resemblance to Elvis’ Sun style as well as to the Burnette brothers’ ‘Train Kept A-Rollin’, although Brenda’s subtle touch of croon in the "Bigelo-o-ow..." chorus still adds a poppy touch. Despite the horny lyrics ("here’s the number to call if you want my lovin’" is a pretty audacious line for an 11-year old to sing!), there is not so much sex in this song as pure rockin’ energy, making it a good candidate for the best rock’n’roll tune to be recorded by a minor in the entire 1950s (if not ever!).

Brenda’s second single, recorded at the same Nashville sessions in late July 1956 but naturally released toward the end of the year, was just... weird. Seriously, ‘I’m Gonna Lasso Santa Claus’, written by New Orleanian-Italian guy Frank Adorno (or Frankie Adams), is one of the weirdest-sounding Christmas oldies I have ever heard. That’s Don Helms on steel guitar opening the song — yes, the same Don Helms who delivers the magnificent solos on Hank Williams’ ‘Hey, Good Lookin’ and elsewhere — and that melody he plays, coupled with Bob Moore’s fast-paced bass line, gives a thoroughly un-Christmas sound, more of a Hawaii-goes-to-Japan kind of a thing. Meanwhile, Brenda allows herself to sound a bit more childish this time (well, it would seem strange to deliver lines like "I’m gonna pop Santa Claus with my water pistol gun" in a grown-up growl), but with the socially conscious context of the lyrics ("And then I’ll take his bags of toys and run / And bring to all the kids who don’t have none") it still ends up sounding pretty serious. This combination of weird lyrics, inventive singing, and especially the Helms / Moore interplay, in my opinion, makes the song far more interesting than the comparatively overrated ‘Rockin’ Around The Christmas Tree’ (to which we’ll get in a bit), and the B-side ‘Christy Christmas’ is no slouch either (I can’t quite figure out what that keyboard is at the beginning of the track; sounds pretty Space Age to me!).

Recorded and released in January 1957, ‘One Step At A Time’ marked Brenda’s first minor appearance on the charts; with a different, less prominent set of players (not too well compensated for by the addition of backup singers) the sole emphasis here, on this fast-paced pop-a-billy number, is on Brenda’s vocals, and she delivers once again, keeping the strong tension in her voice throughout the entire performance — it might not be too memorable once things quiet down, but it does keep you on your feet with the sheer application of her mind power. Unfortunately, the B-side, ‘Fairyland’, is a corny show tune out of the hands of Frankie Avalon’s resident songwriters, hardly salvageable even through the rough charms of Brenda’s loud, rowdy voice (it’s real tough to save songs expressly pre-written for suave, syrupy voices in that way). Good news: there is not a single other misfire like ‘Fairyland’ in the remainder of Brenda’s 1950’s catalog, showing that either she had a good, strong head on her shoulders, or that the business people around her happened to have good ones on theirs.

Brenda’s next recording session (April 12, 1957) brought her her famous nickname, even if, surprisingly, ‘Dynamite’ (one of the authors of which was Mort Garson, later renowned for his experimentation with space-age electronics) was never that much of a hit, stalling at #72 on the charts. The song would also later be re-recorded in stereo for Brenda Lee, but this time the differences between the two versions are more subtle; I am not sure about the usefulness of string overdubs on the new version, but at the same time the backing vocals on the 1960 version are a bit less in-yer-face, making Brenda stand out more properly. In any case, it’s just a catchy, danceable pop number on its own, but Brenda’s roaring take on the DURRRNAMITE! hookline takes it to the next level of excitement. Interestingly, the B-side, ‘Love You ’Til I Die’, is a song written unabashedly in Buddy Holly style (with a very ‘Words Of Love’-like lead guitar running throughout), which makes one wonder just how well Brenda’s powerhouse anthem style fits a colorfully-jangly Buddy Holly environment. Perhaps not too well, but it doesn’t hurt to hear her try at least once.

Also interestingly, the exact same songwriter pair (Diane Lampert and John Gluck Jr.) contributed yet another song to the same recording session, but in a completely different style — ‘One Teenager To Another’ is a bona fide R&B number in the style of Atlantic artists such as The Drifters (some clear rhythmic and vocal parallels between this one and ‘Money Honey’, for instance). The lyrics, dealing with the issue of schoolboys bragging over their conquests ("Kiss a guy, the kiss never ends / Talk will fly to all of his friends"), sound surprisingly modern for 1957, though I wouldn’t say Brenda delivers them with particular conviction — perhaps, having only recently turned 12 and all, her own experiences with such situations were still rather limited. Since we’re on the topic of being influenced by Atlantic, kudos to Brenda for putting a cover of Ray Charles’ ‘Ain’t That Love’ on the B-side — obviously, Little Cousin Brenda will never be able to steal that piece of burnin’ soul away from Old Uncle Ray, but it’s still a pretty big achievement for a 12-year old.

The single flopped on the charts, and so did the follow-up, recorded at the end of 1957: ‘Rock-A-Bye Baby Blues’ is a rather unremarkable (apart from Brenda’s typically excellent vocals) piece of slow rockabilly, while ‘Rock The Bop’ will most likely stay in your memory only for its repetitive and lexically bizarre chorus ("I’m old enough to chick and old enough to rock the bop" — I think that’s the only time in my life I saw the word ‘chick’ used as a verb in such a context). Nor did she have any success with ‘Ring-A-My Phone’, recorded in a more straightforwardly Elvis-like manner and not too interesting on the whole. BUT! Do not make the mistake of missing out on ‘Little Jonah (Rock On Your Steel Guitar)’ — Brenda does just fine on this fast-paced variation on the classic ‘Little Baby’ / ‘Tweedle Dee’ chord progression, but the real hero is the «little Jonah» in question, a.k.a. pedal steel guitarist Buddy Emmons, one of the most expressive players of the instrument. In a perfect world, this song should do pretty much the same for pedal steel guitar that ‘Johnny B. Goode’ does for regular electric guitar, but, unfortunately, it does not invent an original, instantly memorable riff; instead, it just blows your mind with an incredible solo on which Mr. Emmons smoothly performs just about every single trick possible on the pedal steel at the time, packing them into a perfectly sensible sequence and then stepping back to let Little Miss Dynamite take over. It’s the single greatest vocal-instrumental duo on a Brenda Lee record ever, period, and most people don’t even know about it, preferring instead to cluelessly rock around the Christmas tree...

...and yes, this is precisely where we come to the single most famous Brenda Lee song of all time. In one of the strangest publicity accidents of all time, ‘Rockin’ Around The Chistmas Tree’ (hilariously, written by Johnny Marks who wrote tons of Christmas songs despite never having been a Christian) became such a perennial Christmas favorite in the States that many people today only remember Brenda Lee as the original singer of ‘Rockin’ Around The Christmas Tree’. In all honesty, this isn’t even her best Christmas song — that honor would undoubtedly have to go to ‘I’m Gonna Lasso Santa Claus’ — let alone her best song overall, but there is no accounting for the Hand of Fate when it decides to play a naughty prank on humanity and rub your intellectual snob noses in the futility of believing that «time heals everything» when it so obviously doesn’t. For sure, it sounds tasteful enough, and a bouncy little pop-rocker highlighted with high-pitched electric guitar blasts is always preferable to a syrupy-stringy crooning performance for Christmas, but it is precisely the relative blandness and straightforwardness of the arrangement that makes it so palatable to the common denominator spirit — where a song like ‘Lasso Santa Claus’ can make you want to pay attention to both the musical and the lyrical detail, ‘Rockin’ Around’ is just ideal background music to dance to and to toast to without getting distracted. (Even the B-side, ‘Papa Noël’, is a little more interesting, with lyrics that constantly back-reference ‘Jambalaya’ for a special «Cajun-themed» Christmas — but, of course, this is no longer fit for the common denominator in the process).

With the 1958-59 Christmas season behind us, we’re getting back to secular business: ‘Bill Bailey Won’t You Please Come Home’ is a fast and jolly reinvention of an old Dixieland classic in the early rockabilly style of ‘Just Because’, while the B-side, ‘Hummin’ The Blues Over You’, is one of Brenda’s most blatant pop-Elvis imitations, and works as fine as any catchy Elvis pop tune (with echoes of ‘Got A Lot O’ Livin’ To Do’ in particular). Then comes the turn of Little Richard; although ‘Let’s Jump The Broomstick’ is credited to little-known songwriter Charles Robins and was first recorded by Alvin Gaines & The Themes (a black band, rather uncharacteristically recording in Nashville), it is, overall, a rather transparent variation on ‘Slippin’ And Slidin’, only deviating from the original at the end of each verse. Brenda’s performance is as light and «safe» compared to Richard’s as the accompanying yakety-sax from Boots Randolph is compared to Lee Allen and Alvin Tyler’s kick-ass sax blasts on the original — but unless we plan on getting all stuffy or something, ‘Let’s Jump The Broom­stick’ is still a fun piece that makes you want to move. Besides, there’s a positive message here! It’s like, uh, Myra Brown’s love anthem for Jerry Lee Lewis or something! "My father don’t like it, my brother don’t like it, come-a lil’ baby let’s jump the broomstick, come and let’s tie the knot!"

Somewhat ironically, ‘Let’s Jump The Broomstick’ would end Brenda’s most quintessentially rockabilly and generally least commercially successful period. The general American public, so it seems, really did not want their little talented girls to rock — at least, not unless it was around the Christmas tree — but when the little girls slowed down the tempos and traded some of the power and aggression in for a little more seduction, things clearly improved. Written by Ronnie Self, an erratic and alcoholic songwriter who once had a dream to be the white Little Richard (his ‘Bop-A-Lena’ does come surprisingly close) but eventually had to resign himself to helping other people realize their dreams, ‘Sweet Nothin’s’ opens with Brenda’s most «girlie» "uh-huh honey, all right!" up to date, and although it still has a pretty rhythmic and hard-hitting R&B tempo, the basic theme is simplistic sentimental teen romance with a strict parental check ("come in daughter, that’s enough for tonight" is like a bad happy Hollywood ending tacked on to a drama). But the psst-psst whispering gimmick throughout the song worked well enough for it to finally start climbing up the charts. I must say that I am more partial to the B-side, though: ‘Weep No More My Baby’, a tight-rockin’ mid-tempo number with shades of both Hank Williams and gospel to it, is one of the more memorable creations of John D. Loudermilk, the author of ‘Tobacco Road’, and Brenda’s performance, sharp and slappy, perfectly matches the «lashing» feel of the rhythm track, as well as begins revealing a certain emotional depth that, perhaps, she was not yet capable of in the «Little Brenda Lee (9 Years Old) (Actually 11, But Who Gives A Damn?)» stage. That "weep no more, my baby, I’m a-comin’, comin’ home to you" line actually hits hard, much harder than I’d expected it to.

Seeing that they may have struck gold with Ronnie Self’s involvement, Decca chartered another song from him for Brenda, but allegedly held back on releasing it, fearing that the recording might be considered «too serious» for a 15-year old performer; when they finally did release it, it was only as the B-side to Jerry Reed’s ‘That’s All You Gotta Do’, a romantic string-filled pop-rocker which was also quite important for Brenda’s career — it was essentially her first song to carry that distinctive early-Sixties-lush-pop sound, showing that she was well at ease transitioning from the somewhat homebrewn country-rockabilly stage into the atmosphere of stage lights, backup singers, and glossed-up romanticism; that tough, jerky roar she lets out at the beginning of each verse still shows, however, that there’s quite a bit of dynamite left in the «little miss», so it’s more of a compromise than a surrender.

Still, the B-side eventually overtook the A-side, proving Decca wrong and showing that audiences were more than willing to accept Brenda Lee in the new function of torch balladeer. I’ve read occasional dismissive evaluations of ‘I’m Sorry’ in a «this is Brenda Lee wanting to be Patsy Cline and failing» manner; unfortunately, I happen to be completely and utterly indifferent to Patsy Cline, whose textbookishly perfect voice has no specific points of interest, and I would take ‘I’m Sorry’ over ‘I Fall To Pieces’ or ‘Crazy’ any day, simply because Brenda turns it into a bit of an exploration. There’s sung parts and spoken parts, there’s crooning and there’s screaming, there are cool bits of phrasing, like the «wise» little pause after the stern but... in the second verse; she’s really trying to engage us here in this piece of teenage drama, instead of simply trying to make it all sound as beautiful and as perfect as humanly possible. This is absolutely not my preferred genre, but she does her best to make me want to appreciate it.

This is as far as Brenda Lee’s story goes until August 1960, when the self-titled album was released — but a few more words have to be said about the LP-only tracks here. Of these, Jackie DeShannon’s ‘My Baby Likes Western Guys’ is particularly hilarious — no, really, it’s just about the protagonist’s lover cheating on her with Western TV shows, what did you think? — and features some beautiful Buddy Holly-style guitar licks to boot. Also from 1958, ‘Heading Home’ is Brenda’s fair and square take on the powerful gospel style (the lyrics are formally secular, but the vibe is absolutely the same as it is on contemporary Elvis gospel recordings) — she’s no Mahalia, but she does pretty great for a 14-year old. Finally, ‘Just Let Me Dream’, ‘Be My Love Again’, and ‘Wee Wee Willies’ are just fun pop numbers with the usual tasteful arrangements; not much to write about them individually, but I do like hearing them over and over again.

Summing up, I think that it is precisely what used to be acclaimed as Brenda Lee’s chief asset at her time — that magnificent exceptional voice coming from a pre-puberty body — that would later work against her: skeptically-minded listeners tend to digest these songs with a «well yes, this is really impressive coming from a 10/11/12/13/14-year old, but would it ever hold up objectively against grown-up competition?» frame of mind. However, the true opposition here is not really between a «pre-puberty» and «post-puberty» Brenda Lee; it is actually between a «pre-fame» and «post-fame» Brenda Lee, between the early, energetic, exciting, unpredictable rockabilly years and the later, more «mature», «calm», and sentimental years of country and pop as heralded by the likes of ‘I’m Sorry’ — and in this respect, Brenda Lee’s career stages are not all that different from her chief competitor on her own turf, Wanda Jackson, even if Wanda was already several years older when she stepped up on stage. And yes, of course it is true that a little girl with restricted agency in the late 1950s, based in Nash­ville rather than, say, in Memphis (let alone Chicago), won’t ever be able to achieve the same levels of reckless wildness as a Little Richard, a Chuck Berry, or a Sun-era Elvis — but those who would insist that said little girl had no true understanding of the spirit of rock’n’roll can leave their opinions outside the doors for trash collectors, as far as I’m concerned. Together with Rockin’ With Wanda, Brenda Lee — especially if you fatten it up with bonus tracks from all the 1956–59 singles, as I have done — is one of the few undisputable classics of 1950s’ female rockabilly, even if Wanda, by way of historical and social circumstances, still firmly remains in the lead.

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