Tracks: 1) Bluejean Bop; 2) Jezebel; 3) Who Slapped John?; 4) Ainʼt She Sweet?; 5) I Flipped; 6) Waltz Of The Wind; 7) Jump Back, Honey, Jump Back; 8) That Old Gang Of Mine; 9) Jumps, Giggles & Shouts; 10) Lazy River; 11) Bop Street; 12) Peg Oʼ My Heart; 13*) Race With The Devil; 14*) Be-Bop-A-Lula; 15*) Woman Love; 16*) Crazy Legs; 17*) Gonna Back Up Baby; 18*) Well, I Knocked Bim Bam.
REVIEW
Gene Vincentʼs first and unquestionably best album arrived precisely at a time when the world of hormone-drenched white teenage kids seemed fully prepared for something a bit wilder and raunchier than Elvis — particularly since with his new career at RCA, Elvis had already sacrificed a serious chunk of the original raw rockabilly spirit in favor of a glossier, less openly rebellious approach. Somebody just had to carry that spark — and not just carry it, but actually try to fuel it into something even wilder than it was. Jerry Lee Lewis was a good candidate, but it was harder to raise the proper ruckus on a piano than in a guitar-based band; plus, one could always argue that Jerryʼs quiet Southern background was a less suitable asset than Geneʼs turbulent adventures in the Navy — I mean, between a Bible school student and a sailor-cum-biker, whoʼd be the better candidate for a true rockʼnʼroll rebel?
Although Geneʼs first two singles were not included on this LP, you can find them attached as bonus tracks on some editions, and, of course, this is precisely where one should start — want it or not, ʽBe-Bop-A-Lulaʼ will forever remain his signature tune. For one thing, it brought new life and meaning to the echo effect — although the latter had already been popularized by Elvis at the start of the rockabilly revolution, Ken Nelsonʼs production goes completely overboard, to the point where it is almost impossible to decipher the words (personally, Iʼve always heard "sheʼs the queen of all the teens" as "sheʼs the queen of the Ovaltines", and it always made more sense to me) and the lead guitar sounds like itʼs suffering from a really bad hangover, yet still manages to carry the melody. For another, it sort of urbanized the rockʼnʼroll vocal: in the place of the cheerful hillbilly (Bill Haley, Carl Perkins) or the burly hillbilly (Elvis, Jerry Lee) what you hear is a snarkier, higher-pitched, generally more slap-in-yer-face slum-hoodlum tone — with far less subtlety, perhaps, and with a singing technique that leaves much to be desired, but also one that was much easier to imitate for young white rebels across the other side of the ocean: little wonder that the Beatles, in their early years, looked way more like four copies of Gene Vincent than four copies of Carl or Elvis. Throw in the absolutely inane, caveman lyrics that will make you re-appreciate the poetic value of Elvisʼ hit songs, and there you have it — Gene Vincent, man of the year in mid-ʼ56.
There was also the little surprise factor of Cliff Gallup, one of the best guitarists of the decade who got almost accidentally promoted from session man to a regular member of Geneʼs Blue Caps (though, unfortunately, not for very long). You can hear echoes of Carl Perkinsʼ and Scotty Mooreʼs playing in his lead parts, and he might not have always been their equal in terms of careful phrasing and pacing, but Cliff added flash — speed, volume, rough excitement — and, in a way, might have been the first of many rockʼnʼroll guitarists trying to wordlessly steal the spotlight away from the frontman: one reason why he was so revered by Jeff Beck, among others. ʽBe-Bop-A-Lulaʼ, with its relatively slow tempo, might not be the best place to appreciate his talents (though that first solo is eminently hummable), but the second single, ʽRace With The Devilʼ, most certainly is — this combination of speed, precision, cleanliness, and sheer fun is quite unique in Fiftiesʼ rock. Not to mention the songʼs title and general message, of course — melodically, it may be the same formula as Chuck Berryʼs ʽReelinʼ And Rockinʼ or Elvisʼ ʽBaby Letʼs Play Houseʼ, but lyrically, not a lot of teenage rockʼnʼroll songs would directly refer to the devil as the protagonistʼs partner in crime. Whoever might have been shocked by something like AC/DCʼs ʽHighway To Hellʼ twenty years later should have remembered that Gene Vincent was playing his own subtle games with the horned one when Bon Scott was still going to Sunshine Primary.
Moving on to the album itself, the opening title track is a classic deceptive move — starting out as a slow romantic ballad, then, a few bars into the song, abruptly jarring to a halt and restarting as a frenzied rocker (one can only guess how much of a show-stopper something like this should have been at the average school prom). "Bop" was clearly Geneʼs favorite word — those labials just roll off your lips, donʼt they? — and The Blue Caps are all about boppinʼ them blues, making sure each beat hits the ground only long enough to rebound back in the air, where their rhythm section, their lead guitar, and their hiccupy vocalist all prefer to spend their time. With this levity and excitement, it is easy to forget that ʽBluejean Bopʼ, ʽWho Slapped John?ʼ, ʽJump Back, Honey, Jump Backʼ and whatever else are all pretty much interchangeable — the bandʼs minimalistic arrangements and limited musical vocabulary allow them about as much moving space as the Ramones twenty years later, at least when it comes to upbeat style.
Upbeat, of course, is not all they can do: not so deep down at heart, Gene Vincent was also an honest romantic, and he was certainly not above serenading the lovely ladies with slow-paced sentimental balladry. Among his idols we see not only Hank Williams (ʽWaltz Of The Windʼ), but also the doo-woppers (ʽWedding Bellsʼ) and even Hoagy Carmichael (ʽUp A Lazy Riverʼ) — all of this stuff is faithfully converted to the Blue Capsʼ echoey style, but performed without the slightest hint at a tongue-in-cheek attitude. And itʼs not at all bad: Cliff Gallup excels at slow soloing as well (check out his «Eastern» chords on the exotica-tinged pop standard ʽJezebelʼ), while Geneʼs crooning voice on ʽLazy Riverʼ, in this humble reviewerʼs thoroughly unworthy opinion, is more seductive and emotionally resonant than Hoagyʼs own. And since there is no true contradiction between Gene the raunchy be-bopping biker and Gene the sentimental doo-wopping troubadour, it would make just as little sense to dismiss these disarmingly charming minimalistic interpretations of the old classics as it would be for, say, Elvis doing ʽBlue Moonʼ in his Sun days.
The worst that could be said about Bluejean Bop is that the album basically knows only two formulas — the sweet and the explosive — and just keeps swinging from one to the other. This is the same worst that can also be said about 99% of LPs released in the Fifties; the important thing that makes Bluejean Bop one of the classics is the feeling of fresh, raw excitement. Like with most of Geneʼs contemporaries, it could easily be predicted that he would never be able to top this initial batch, but donʼt let the leather jacket and greased hair image fool you: Gene Vincent and the Blue Caps were the real deal, capturing millions of teenage hearts with their sounds first and foremost, and their visual image always coming second. The best of these songs represent some of the wildest rockʼnʼroll ever put on tape.
This is an awesome review of the album and totally captures everything that's great about Gene Vincent, but I also have to disagree about this being his best record. I personally think Vincent is also a very good balladeer, but his ballads aside from "Jezebel" aren't that unique overall (at least, I don't like any of these ballads as much as "Blue Moon" or the other ballads on the Sun Sessions) where devoting half the album to it would be fully enjoyable. Still a really good album with some of my all-time favorite songs of his (Bluejean Bop, Jump Back Honey Jump Back, Jezebel, Who Slapped John, etc.), but I still prefer the variety and creativity of songwriting and rocking energy on the next album. It has even a slightly higher proportion of classics in my opinion.