"But heroes of early rock’n’roll are rarely judged by the amount of discipline and practice in their guitar playing — more often than not, they’re judged by the intensity of the fire in their spirit..."
And what fire it was. I love reading anything I can about Sun records and George, you bring it home so well. I was barely alive but alive during this period. A little child laying in the backseat soaking in these tunes in a Studebaker rumbling along route 66 in Oklahoma.
About 1964 I remember staying the night at my grandmothers with my cousin. She was melting records on the stove making candy dishes. Can you imagine eating Circus Peanuts from a now invaluable Elvis Sun record made into a bowl? Meanwhile I was reading my Marvel Spider-Man #1 comic having little value at the time. Both items worth fortunes now.
Oh yeah, as a Soviet kid who treasured any piece of Western vinyl more than life itself I can easily imagine the pain.
I do entertain a slight hope that, perhaps, these write-ups of mine might not only keep alive the nostalgia, but actually interest some of the younger crowds in that quirky grass-was-greener mentality. It's very slight and almost completely hopeless, but hey, "he who saves one life saves the world entire" :)).
"But heroes of early rock’n’roll are rarely judged by the amount of discipline and practice in their guitar playing — more often than not, they’re judged by the intensity of the fire in their spirit..."
And what fire it was. I love reading anything I can about Sun records and George, you bring it home so well. I was barely alive but alive during this period. A little child laying in the backseat soaking in these tunes in a Studebaker rumbling along route 66 in Oklahoma.
About 1964 I remember staying the night at my grandmothers with my cousin. She was melting records on the stove making candy dishes. Can you imagine eating Circus Peanuts from a now invaluable Elvis Sun record made into a bowl? Meanwhile I was reading my Marvel Spider-Man #1 comic having little value at the time. Both items worth fortunes now.
Oh yeah, as a Soviet kid who treasured any piece of Western vinyl more than life itself I can easily imagine the pain.
I do entertain a slight hope that, perhaps, these write-ups of mine might not only keep alive the nostalgia, but actually interest some of the younger crowds in that quirky grass-was-greener mentality. It's very slight and almost completely hopeless, but hey, "he who saves one life saves the world entire" :)).