WILLIE NELSON, "NO DOUGH" C/W "SUSIE," LIBERTY 55155 (REL. 8/14/1958)

Performance was in the Nelson family DNA. Ozzie Nelson led a popular swing band in the 1930s and ‘40s, and his son Ricky became one of the hottest acts in pop music via his appearances on the family TV sitcom, which featured all members of the Nelson household in mild sitcom episodes. By 1958, the shows included a musical number by Ricky Nelson, and his records, released by Imperial, zoomed up the pop charts.

Ricky’s records were decent li’l boppers. The young singer was an avid fan of rockabilly and sought out the best LA session cats to back him up—among them teenage guitar virtuoso James Burton, whose stinging leads inspired many a future rocker to pick up an instrument and begin the arduous journey of learning to play.

Nelson picked good material, including songs by Johnny and Dorsey Burnette, Jackie De Shannon, Baker Knight and local rock ‘n’ roll composers. His sales bolstered Imperial’s coffers from 1958 to 1963, when Nelson, now going as Rick, moved to Decca, where he’d remain into the early 1970s when he had his late hit “Garden Party.” In-between, he presaged country-rock with a pair of innovative LPs and starred in a TV special with new music by Burt Bacharach.

Meanwhile, back in New Jersey (home turf of the Nelson clan), 14-year-old cousin Willy (or Willie) inherited the family bug. At age 12, according to a squib published in the August 9, 1958 issue of Cash Box, Willie began performing music in public. His performances were well-received, and it made sense to try him out on record. Lightning might strike three times in this talented family. On August 14^th, his lone single was released. It got an initial good reception but failed to chart. It wasn’t a callous cash-grab; the kid was good. Willie sounds older than 14 and though he loses his note here and there on both sides, he sings with spirit to a rockin’ band (Ricky’s, I’d wager) on two up-tempo movers. These sides rock harder than his famous cousin’s, due in part to a lack of vocal chorus—the one element that dilutes Ricky’s records to some extent.

This one-off single seems designed to confuse record collectors. The more famous Willie Nelson also recorded for Imperial’s sister label Liberty; the name is enough to mislead a body. That the record’s good is the best part of this story. Speaking of which…

“No Dough” is classic teen stuff. Its narrator is strapped for cash and must sit on the sidelines as his more-loaded pals do as they please. He has ambitions to do well for himself, but that must wait until he’s an adult. In the meantime, all he finds in his pockets are lint and old gum wrappers.

The band, which, on re-hearing, doesn’t sound like cousin Ricky’s group, delivers a solid rockin’ groove, with the lead guitarist achieving some tasty li’l riffs and fills. Willie’s flat notes grate a bit, but the overall vibe keeps the listener engaged. Its homely sound might have been more relatable to the average teenager: hey, this guy kinda sounds like me!

"A promising first showing" that was also the last.

A general song-title rule of thumb: if a person’s name is mentioned once, chances are it’s gonna be a mushy ballad (“Donna” by Ritchie Valens, “Juliet” by UK group The Four Pennies). Cited twice, things can get wild (“Jenny Jenny” by Little Richard). Three times—and all bets are off.

“Susie,” first thought to be the A-side, defies this rule. It’s another bouncy stroll-tempo item. A tad slower than “No Dough,” its funky rhythm, with that guitarist sharp as a tack, its heavier sound is a bit much for Willie’s limited range, but his attitude is great, and he sounds like he’s having fun in the studio.

It occurs to me that this might be a New York recording. Thus, that could be Mickey Baker on guitar. The sax sounds like Sam “The Man” Taylor.

Willie gets het up on the last chorus and the results are impressive. His fervor in those last 20 seconds suggests he had a future in the rock ‘n’ roll world. But this was his only attempt.

Despite a thumbs-up from Cash Box, Willie’s single went nowhere upon its release and became an instant obscurity. It got a retail pressing and a Canadian release, so it must have sold X amount of copies—but not enough to get on the charts. I hope Willie Nelson (a) had a happy life and continued performing music and (b) didn’t get razzed about sharing a name with a country music legend. He left behind an appealing record that could have made it without the family connection.

Tomorrow: sweet pop-soul with another one-record wonder, Eddie and The Tropics, via a 1965 Josie Records release. This group loved their rhythm guitarist.