Monday Melodies: Little Richard – “Here’s Little Richard” (1956)

This weekend, Richard Wayne Penniman (better known as Little Richard) passed away at the age of 87 after battling bone cancer. Having lived a full life, you can’t deny the expectations that he’d live forever. He just had a fire in his belly and you all knew his yell. It wasn’t one of those aggressive, guttural sounds that most would go for. No, it was a simpler and cleaner “Wooh!” that not only echoed to the back of the room but escaped his body with dance. His shoulders couldn’t help but shimmy every time he proudly screamed. He was a joyous figure, and one who I feel has become a bit underappreciated over the years by subsequent generations.

It doesn’t help that most of what made the 1950s such a revolutionary time for American culture has passed. With maybe one or two exceptions, all of the icons are gone. The world feels emptier without the opportunity to visit them and thank them for making the world a greater place. More importantly, not having the chance to have them defend their legacy is even more of a dicey subject given the occasional mismanagement by relatives that ruins a public image. It’s tragic in a way when that independence is gone.

My knowledge of 1950s music is especially short-sided, but I do know something about listening to Little Richard. There’s a rambunctious nature that has never become dated. Whereas you can call Chuck Berry “slower” by today’s standards, I don’t know that you can turn on a Little Richard song and feel like the tempo’s been slowly jacked up. It isn’t just what he’s playing, but how he’s playing a song. You believe that he’s invested in every note to the point that a ludicrous scream has an important meaning. It’s a new form of punctuation, and one that nobody could do like him – even those who sought to imitate him.

One of the greatest signifiers of Little Richard’s singularity is that he was a flamboyant man. He was well-groomed to the point that many praised him for being outgoing in a culture that shied away from it. Even the more bombastic names like James Brown took time before they wore those lavish suits, reveling in luxury, and this overall feel-good attitude that Little Richard did. He wouldn’t be able to exist without it. You’re pretty sure that he started his life by crying to his mama with long strands of loud “woo’s,” he had that much passion.

In a lot of ways, Little Richard was the rebel that music needed to move forward. He had nicknames like The Architect of Rock and Roll. His music was borderline lyrically sexual (not to mention rhythmically suggestive), and you couldn’t deny that he never outstayed his welcome. When looking at his debut album, “Here’s Little Richard” from 1956, you find something more akin to a punk rock record: a brisk running time of 28:30 minutes with the longest song (“True, Fine Mama”) clocking in at 2:43. Most of them were done in a much shorter time of even that.

It’s insane to listen to this record and know that it was preceded by six singles. That is half the album, featuring songs that he had been working on while performing his way up through the clubs, breaking barriers and trying to legitimize his approach to music. From behind his piano, he mixed in gospel, blues, and soul. He couldn’t bang those keys fast enough to contain the precise brevity of the lyrics. They may have all followed a certain pattern (short verses, punchy choruses), but that was only part of his intent. He was first and foremost an entertainer.

With this record, a blueprint for what rock and roll would become was clear. It is said that when he was younger, Little Richard’s family was obsessed with slower music by artists like Bing Crosby. After growing impatient with “Swinging on a Star,” he realized that he was the one who was put on Earth to rattle things up. He would play on anything that would make noise, and that worked out for the best.

Remember those six singles? You can call them great, but they were no match for another song, one that is mysteriously not listed among them is “Tutti Frutti.” I’ll just put it this way. Little Richard’s career wouldn’t be the same without this song. Even the whole landscape of music would be severely altered without him screaming a word that, to date, nobody really knows how to spell but everyone knows how to say:

Wop bop a loo bop a lop bam boom!

It’s the most nonsensical phrase ever uttered on tape. It’s also the one that defines the raging power of rock and roll. Following a chorus that repeats the title phrase (itself Italian for “all fruits”), the line perfectly jolts everything around it to life. You don’t know what it means, but you can feel it in your soul. Suddenly simple things like changing “Tutti Frutti, good booty” to “Tutti Fruitty, aw rooty” was (barely) acceptable. Even when toned down, Little Richard wailed with a thunderous abandon that was unparalleled. 

Everything you needed to know about rock and roll going forward was born there. It crashed into Earth and with it ignited so many covers. It was a song that he had been singing for years live and after believing that his record didn’t reflect his energy, he decided to go for it. He put the song on there and history was made in 2:25 minutes. You had no idea what happened to you, but the conservative whiteness of radio was about to be radically changed.

Okay, not entirely. There were still racial divides at the time and Little Richard’s music, by virtue of being released by a black artist, was a “race record.” His music would get to the suburbs through the vanilla textures of Pat Boone. I once took a History of Rock class that focused on cover songs like this, and the editor had a vicious way of making Little Richard seem cool and Boone like the biggest dick in the world with just a split transition. It also reflected something truthful: no matter how much you tried to be Little Richard, you couldn’t. You had to feel the energy on a personal level and follow your own muse. 

I don’t know that there is really any deep and provocative thought to “Here’s Little Richard.” There doesn’t need to really be. What he was bringing at the age of 23 was a youth perspective that went against what we knew. You could see it in the song titles like “Ready Teddy” and “Rip It Up.” This was a culture divided from what came before, trying to find hip new slang and an awesome soundtrack to dance to.

“Long Tall Sally” is arguably the second-biggest song on the entire album, and it fits this ethos to a T. I personally always mistake it for “Rip It Up” because for starters it just has that aggressive opening that sounds like it’s accompanied by a violent title. You can’t deny it when it opens with one of the most memorable up-tempo passages on the whole album:

Saw Uncle John with Long Tall Sally

They saw Aunt Mary comin'

So they ducked back in the alley

Considering that "Long Tall Sally" would later be described as “built for speed,” the song has no problem just spiraling through a story about having some fun tonight. He screams with joy in the chorus, capturing exuberance for this act. Considering that the speed phrase has references in the black community to a woman who has “enthusiastic exhibitionism,” it’s fun to find the moments where Little Richard has evaded the censors. He is by no means a dirty artist. Even with the flagrant lyrics, he was no match for the controversial hips of Elvis Presley. What he brought beyond euphemisms was an energy that put everything into context.

There is a reason that this album is one of many that have been adopted by the “generic 50s music” collection of cinema. Many more records may have come out, but they all blend together in comparison. The music gets you moving every time, wailing with a timeless joy that can’t be described. Most of all, even the nonsense words helped to define the moment. These songs of youthful affection and rambunctiousness speak to all of us still.

I personally cannot understand how Little Richard has become somewhat obscure by modern standards. If anything, he still feels like an anomaly when you compare him to the figures of the time. Even the way he smiles helps him stand out, and it helped that he never lost that spirit. He was the first to make fun of his over-the-top fashion and vocal tics. He loved life as much as music, and that’s how he gained a legacy at least with my generation. 

I’ll fully confess that I never listened to a full Little Richard album before, though it’s in part because 50s rock isn’t a genre I’m familiar with. I knew “Tutti Frutti,” and I’m pretty sure I can envision Little Richard yelling from behind a piano, burning like a flame. I’m sure there were artists who had similar energy, but in my mind, nobody comes close. Even the “white counterpart” of Jerry Lee Lewis lacked the immediacy, the inimitable way that he controlled a stage. He may have never been a figure I paid attention a lot, but most people know how to imitate him, lovingly so.

But it becomes incredible to realize how much of the early 20th century is now gone, at least in the form of living historical figures. I know it’s an inevitable part of life, but you still have this hope that there would be some icon around to perform a benefit concert “one more time” and remember what made them a stalwart talent in the first place. I don’t know when the last time I saw a video of Little Richard performing, but I like to think he still could put a smile on every last audience member’s face.

What impresses me most about “Here’s Little Richard” is that it never outstayed its welcome. By the time I was enjoying a song, it would end and force me to reckon with the thrills that it gave me. The album barely exists in that way, and you keep wanting to go back to get that rush. That may be why songs like “Jenny, Jenny” or “Slippin’ and Slidin’” have resonated. They’re not exceptionally dense, and yet they get to the core of music’s potential. Seeing the album listed among Rolling Stone’s Top 100 Albums of All Time makes sense. This wasn’t some cheap cash-in, but the introduction to a timeless figure.

I wonder sometimes how it played to see him at the time. I’m sure on some level I personally would have to deal with the racial divide, but to see him on TV and going berserk on a piano must have been a sight, of something so defiant to the tepid tones of the time. He also looked different, having a flamboyance that has been normalized since, but I don’t see it in Presley or Berry. I don’t see anyone brave enough to be that effeminate and confident from that era who got away with it like Little Richard did.

That’s the rock and roll spirit right there: expressing yourself and letting everyone else determine what you’re about. “Tutti Frutti” was a starting point, and he only climbed the roads higher, appealing to generations across the board. I can only hope that his passing will remind everyone of these gifts, of which he left many. It doesn’t take long to understand his brilliance. It doesn’t even take that much effort. All that you really need to understand Little Richard is enough space to get up and dance the night away.