jump blues and flamboyant fingering

Since my last two posts have been tributes to dead musicians, I figured I might as well close out the weekend with more of the same, dealing with two legendary figures who both happened to depart this mortal coil on February 4.

In one corner we have Louis Jordan, the master of jump blues and one of the godfathers of rock and roll. While I’ve seen it argued in various history books and documentaries that Jordan was the first rock and roller, I think that’s reaching a bit, and another example of the tendency to praise by overstating. (Histories of punk rock are rife with this sort of thing. “Mozart was the first punk rocker” or some similar hyperbolic statement.)

This is by no means a dig at Jordan or his musical legacy. His revved up mix of jazz and blues was a direct and highly influential predecessor of rock and roll, but where rock and roll was largely dominated by a strong lead guitar, jump blues mostly relegated the guitarist to the rhythm section and let the horns do the heavy lifting. The issue is further complicated by the fact that Jordan recorded rock and roll versions of a number of his old hits in the mid-50’s, adding the genre’s customary wild guitar licks to the mix. Here’s the rock and roll-savvy version of Jordan’s classic, Caldonia:

Louis Jordan – Caldonia (from Rock ‘N’ Roll, 1956)

In the other corner we have…Liberace. Sure, mock away, but the man was a masterful entertainer who knew how to give his audience exactly what they wanted – classical pieces presented in a pop style and pop pieces gussied up with classical flourishes, accompanied by Liberace’s charismatic (if somewhat smarmy) persona and over-the-top sense of style.

It’s not so much Liberace’s music that fascinates me as much as the bizarre popcult paradox that surrounded his celebrity. Entertainers like Liberace and Paul Lynde achieved great success through playing up traits – campiness, flamboyance, and/or acidic snarkiness - that their generally staid, conservative audiences would otherwise associate with homosexuality. The acceptance was predicated on an unspoken “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy that differs from the “Stepin Fetchit” tradition. While “Stepin Fetchit” antics are rooted in playing toward the audience’s assumptions and prejudices about the performer’s race, performers like Lynde and Liberace were able to exhibit traits popularly associated with gayness (which is a broad generalization, to be sure, but I’m talking audience perceptions, not the infinitely more nuanced reality) as long as it reamined unstated.

A more recent example of what happens when that line gets crossed can be found in the change in attitude toward Ellen DeGeneres and her sitcom, Ellen, when she made the decision to have her character on the show come out of the closet. There was a sudden hue and cry made about how she had politicized the show and was “rubbing her lifestyle in people’s faces,” even though her character on the sitcom retained the same comedic traits she possessed before coming out of the closet. The only difference being that her romantic interests changed from men to women. (The “rubbing it in our faces” argument regarding alternative lifestyles is an obnoxiously sly method of roundabout intolerance and in practice translates to “how dare they have the temerity to be unashamed about themselves.” No one – well, maybe some fundies – ever makes the same complaint whenever a straight actor/writer/comedian/miscellaneous creative type discusses or interacts with a member of the opposite sex.)

Shit, I went all heavy again, didn’t I? Here’s something guaranteed to lighten the mood…

Liberace – Beer Barrel Polka (from 16 Biggest Hits, 2000)