Chuck Berry, "Come On" c/w "Go, Go, Go," Chess 1799 (rel. 9/1961); UK issue, Pye International 7N.25209 (rel. 6/1963)
Little did Chuck Berry know, on March 8, 1961, that one of the songs he'd record that day would start the career of a rock group that's outlasted all contenders. In the Tel-Mar Studios in Chicago, Berry and his band laid down seven songs, including a few of Berry's most obscure tracks: "Adulteen," "The Man and The Donkey" and "Trick or Treat" wouldn't see the light of day for many years.
Berry's personal life was a shambles at the time; he awaited a trial that, within a month, would convict him on charges of violating the Mann Act. He would spend just under two years in prison. Despite this, Chess Records' owners retained their faith in the rock 'n' roll icon and wanted fresh recordings to issue for however long he was incarcerated.
Not the merriest of moods for a rock 'n' roll session! Two songs from this date were chosen for a single, issued in October, where it failed to chart. As with Jerry Lee Lewis, public scandal put a temporary damper on a major musical career. The single was destined for a second chance--as the debut song of The Rolling Stones and as a UK reissue on Pye International's R&B series in the wake of the new group's small hit. (It peaked at #20 on British charts in the early fall of 1963.)
The Stones' rendition is, along with their dreadful "I Wanna Be Your Man," low points in the group's early catalog, but both recordings got them noticed and led to better things until the combined hubris of Mick Jagger and Keith Richards led to their bullying of Brian Jones, a brilliant musician with emotional problems who withered due to their cruelty. Their behavior is unforgivable and the main reason why I don't care for their music.
None of this was yet to happen when Chuck Berry, with his wife Martha on uncredited harmony vocals, laid down "Come On," a lively laundry-list of complaints, all which Chuck blames on a bad relationship. With a sped-up overdubbed guitar as his Greek chorus, nagging like a bad memory, the Berrys sing with fervor to Lafayette Leake's piano and Phil Thomas on muddy, powerful percussion.
Though intended as a humorous novelty, there's a real chip on the shoulder of "Come On," which includes a line the Stones had to censor: "ev'ry time the phone rings, sounds like thunder/some stupid jerk tryin' reach another number." Decca Records had concern about the word jerk and would-be producer/manager Andrew Loog Oldham had his charges use a less inflammatory word. Not that it mattered: the group was embarrassed by this first effort and did little to promote it. Still, it was a start.
As if to remind the world of the debt owed, Pye issued the 1961 single, which hadn't appeared in England; his last single was issued in the spring of '61. Chess Records seems to have sent the master tapes to England, as the UK single has tremendous mono sound--better than the American styrene edition. Here it is, after this commercial break...
Berry's personal life was a shambles at the time; he awaited a trial that, within a month, would convict him on charges of violating the Mann Act. He would spend just under two years in prison. Despite this, Chess Records' owners retained their faith in the rock 'n' roll icon and wanted fresh recordings to issue for however long he was incarcerated.
Not the merriest of moods for a rock 'n' roll session! Two songs from this date were chosen for a single, issued in October, where it failed to chart. As with Jerry Lee Lewis, public scandal put a temporary damper on a major musical career. The single was destined for a second chance--as the debut song of The Rolling Stones and as a UK reissue on Pye International's R&B series in the wake of the new group's small hit. (It peaked at #20 on British charts in the early fall of 1963.)
The Stones' rendition is, along with their dreadful "I Wanna Be Your Man," low points in the group's early catalog, but both recordings got them noticed and led to better things until the combined hubris of Mick Jagger and Keith Richards led to their bullying of Brian Jones, a brilliant musician with emotional problems who withered due to their cruelty. Their behavior is unforgivable and the main reason why I don't care for their music.
None of this was yet to happen when Chuck Berry, with his wife Martha on uncredited harmony vocals, laid down "Come On," a lively laundry-list of complaints, all which Chuck blames on a bad relationship. With a sped-up overdubbed guitar as his Greek chorus, nagging like a bad memory, the Berrys sing with fervor to Lafayette Leake's piano and Phil Thomas on muddy, powerful percussion.
Though intended as a humorous novelty, there's a real chip on the shoulder of "Come On," which includes a line the Stones had to censor: "ev'ry time the phone rings, sounds like thunder/some stupid jerk tryin' reach another number." Decca Records had concern about the word jerk and would-be producer/manager Andrew Loog Oldham had his charges use a less inflammatory word. Not that it mattered: the group was embarrassed by this first effort and did little to promote it. Still, it was a start.
As if to remind the world of the debt owed, Pye issued the 1961 single, which hadn't appeared in England; his last single was issued in the spring of '61. Chess Records seems to have sent the master tapes to England, as the UK single has tremendous mono sound--better than the American styrene edition. Here it is, after this commercial break...
Cash Box considered this same ol' same ol' and gave it their most average B rating.
"Go-Go-Go" was the A-side of the US original. It's another chapter in the story of Johnny B. Goode--from after the fictional hero's success. He's a fixture of the weekly record hop, where his guitar prowess is celebrated by local teens each weekend.
John Jackson takes a rare and elegant sax break amidst Berry's guitar pyrotechnics. Martha Berry again joins her husband, and their vocal blend has a rough, exciting appeal. Among Berry's amusing lyrics are mentions of contemporary jazz figures: "now they tell me Stan Kenton's cuttin' 'Maybelline'," e.g.
John Jackson takes a rare and elegant sax break amidst Berry's guitar pyrotechnics. Martha Berry again joins her husband, and their vocal blend has a rough, exciting appeal. Among Berry's amusing lyrics are mentions of contemporary jazz figures: "now they tell me Stan Kenton's cuttin' 'Maybelline'," e.g.
All is well in Johnny's teenage utopia; perhaps this was wishful thinking on Berry's part, as he faced the courtroom and a prison cell soon after this recording session.
While he was away, Chess issued two new singles--one of them a re-up of "Sweet Little Sixteen," which made note of its reuse as the melody of The Beach Boys' "Surfin' USA." Upon his release, Berry had one of the best years of his later career: five chart hits in 1964. "No Particular Place to Go" reached #10 and "You Never Can Tell" #14. He wasn't canceled; just put on hold for a time.
Tomorrow: speaking of The Beach Boys, we take in a little-known side session where Brian Wilson and Gary Usher sing an obscure but appealing song from the Boys' catalog, coupled with a new hot rod item, as 'The Timers' on an obscure 1963 Reprise Records platter. Vroom!
Wonder why the producers wanted that sound of speeding up his guitar for "Come On"? It's almost like an Alvin and the Chipmunks record. "Go, Go, Go" has the Chuck Berry guitar sound we all know and love. Seems vaguely autobiographical—a holler back to "Johnny B. Goode" and, as you mention, a reference to his song "Maybellene". Well...um...Berry DID play the guitar just like a-ringin' a bell.
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