THE EVERLY BROTHERS - THE PRICE OF LOVE

About a year ago, I blogged about Dion's "Two Ton Feather" and mentioned that out of all the big 1950s artists whose career waned in the 1960s, Dion and The Everly Brothers made the most interesting records after their hit-making days were over - mainly because they did their best to keep up with changing trends and styles, and were equal to the task.

"The Price Of Love", the record featured here, was a bona fide Number Two hit in the UK - right up there with The Beatles, Stones, all the heavy UK hitters - in the summer of '65. It was also a hit for the Status Quo in 1969 and later versions were also recorded by Bryan Ferry and The Sinners. Of COURSE it flopped in the States.

But then again, the United Kingdom has always been a more welcoming country to the Everlys. Their influence in England is boundless - just listen to records by The Beatles, The Hollies, Peter and Gordon, Chad and Jeremy, The Searchers, etc. and you'll hear The Everlys. In fact, you could say that the entire British Invasion was fueled in part by old Everly Brothers 45s. The Everlys' comeback concert in 1983 tellingly took place in the UK's Royal Albert Hall - NOT in America. Their last decent-sized hit, "On The Wings Of A Nightingale", was written by some Liverpudlian dude named Paul McCartney (and their last decent hit before that one, 1967's "Bowling Green", was written by Terry Slater, another Englishman). Hell, in 1960, when Warner Bros. Records decided to expand their operations to across the pond, guess what was the very first 45 Warners ever released in England? "Cathy's Clown" by The Everly Brothers (catalog number WB 1).

Don't get me wrong - I'm NOT saying that this record only became a hit because of England's love for the Everly Brothers. Listen to the sound clip below; wicked guitar lick, country-fried harmonica, and a POUNDING backbeat set up the one-of-a-kind Everly harmonies to killer effect. These guys WERE NOT going through the motions; they were hip to what was happening in music and made their contribution to the sounds of '65.

History Lesson Time: Don Everly (b. Isaac Donald Everly, February 1, 1937)  and Phillip Everly (b. January 19, 1939) are the sons of Ike Everly, a musician himself (interesting side note here: they are also cousins of actor James Best, best known as Sheriff Roscoe P. Coltrane on The Dukes Of Hazzard). Originally from Kentucky, the Everly family moved to Shenandoah, Iowa in the 1940s where they had their own radio program on KMA and KFNF radio (in fact, bits of the radio program can be heard on the Everlys' groundbreaking 1968 LP Roots). As the boys grew older, Ike began giving them their own spot on the radio show. Family friend Chet Atkins took an interest in the boys, and got them their first record deal with Columbia in 1956. After one failed single ("Keep A' Lovin' Me"), Columbia lost interest and Chet got the duo signed - as songwriters - to Acuff-Rose Music, Nashville's biggest publishing company. It was Wesley Rose (the "Rose" in Acuff-Rose) who introduced the Everlys to Archie Bleyer of Cadence Records. They signed with Cadence in early 1957, and their first record for the company, "Bye Bye Love", became a million-seller.

After three years of nonstop hits with Cadence, the brothers signed a ten-year, multi-million dollar contract with the nearly brand-new Warner Bros. Records (in fact, they were the label's first major rock and roll act). They started off 1960 with their biggest hit, "Cathy's Clown", they were given a whirlwind promotional push (appearing in many publicity photos with film and TV stars from the Warners lot), and the hits just kept on coming. For a while, anyway.

The trouble started in 1961. The Everlys had worked up a rockin' version of the standard "Temptation" and had wanted to release it as a single, but Wesley Rose objected - because it wasn't an Acuff-Rose copyright. The brothers ended up dumping Rose as their manager, and in retaliation Rose denied the Everlys access to any songs from Acuff-Rose songwriters like Boudleaux and Felice Bryant, who had written most of the Everlys' hits up to that point, and Don and Phil themselves, who were still contracted as songwriters to Acuff-Rose. So the Everlys were forced to use outside writers for his such as "Crying In The Rain" and "That's Old Fashioned", and were also reduced to recording versions of standards (like "Don't Blame Me" and the entire Both Sides Of An Evening LP). A six-month stint in the Marines starting in late 1961 didn't help matters much, interrupting their touring schedule and keeping them out of the spotlight (though they did make an appearance on the Ed Sullivan show in their Marine dress uniforms).

To make matters worse, the brothers were having personal troubles - between the all-night recording sessions, the tours, the television appearances, Don's newly-formed record label (Calliope Records) and the added pressure of coming up with hit singles without their best source of material, Don and Phil were just plain tired. So they started seeing a doctor for their fatigue, but the guy was a quack. He prescribed "vitamins" to help the Everlys get through a 1962 tour of Great Britain - they turned out to be amphetamines, and Don got hooked. He overdosed twice on that tour, and had to be taken home before it ended, leaving Phil to go it alone (with their guitarist Joey Paige providing the harmony to Phil's voice). Don also became addicted to Ritalin, prescribed for his "nervousness". The brothers also started to have differing opinions about everything - by 1964, the brothers' mutual animosity had become so great that they had separate managers, agents and lawyers. Doing business with them became a nightmare - you had to call Don's people and Phil's people separately, make sure each brother was satisfied with the pay grade, deal with each brother's contracts, then hope that one camp didn't talk to the other brother's camp and find out there was a disparity. Otherwise the process would begin all over again.

Clearly, this was an unhealthy situation, but the brothers soldiered on. From the end of 1962 (when "Don't Ask Me To Be Friends" hit #48) until early 1970, the brothers released 27 singles and a dozen LPs for Warner Bros. Only three of the singles and one of the LPs charted, despite great tracks like "It's All Over" (which later became a hit for The Casinos), "Man With Money" (later recorded by The Who and A Wild Uncertainty) and the track featured here. They also worked with The Hollies (on the LP Two Yanks In England), The Beau Brummels' Ron Elliot, and hired some guy named Warren Zevon to be their bandleader on the road.

After the Warners contract ran out in 1970, the Everlys could have respectably called it quits, but for some reason they didn't - instead, they took over their friend Johnny Cash's TV show as a summer replacement, then signed another recording contract with RCA in 1971. They recorded two LPs for RCA - Stories We Could Tell (an all-star affair featuring Graham Nash, Ry Cooder, Delaney and Bonnie Bramlett, John Sebastian, Warren Zevon, Chris Ethridge of the Flying Burrito Brothers, and Byrds David Crosby and Clarence White) and Pass The Chicken And Listen (with Chet Atkins and other Nashville session cats). But then came July 14, 1973, when the brothers finally broke up the act - publicly.

At Knotts Berry Farm in Los Angeles, the Everlys were halfway through the second of three sets that evening. Don's performance indicated that he really didn't want to be there that night, singing old Everly Brothers hits for the millionth time. Entertainment manager Bill Hollinghead, seeing this (and not quite sure that Don wasn't high or drunk), stopped the show in the middle of the second set. Phil finally had enough. Phil stopped singing, smashed his guitar to smithereens, and walked off stage, leaving Don by himself. For the third set, Don came out alone, and explained the situation to the audience ("the Everly Brothers died 10 years ago....").

Phil and Don quickly put out solo records (Phil's first solo LP, Star Spangled Springer, was produced by Duane Eddy and featured the original version of "The Air That I Breathe", which later became a hit for The Hollies), but neither of them found much success as solo acts.

Finally, in 1983, after ten years of not speaking to each other, the brothers finally settled their differences and staged a reunion concert at London's Royal Albert Hall. The first song played that night? "The Price Of Love".

The Everly Brothers - The Price Of Love (Warner Bros. 5628) - 1965

THEE IMPALAS - COME ON UP

You ever notice how some bands are great on records and are HORRID live? Or you go see a band that does such a KILLER live show that you buy their CD and bring it home and the second the sound comes out of your speakers you immediately regret it? Happens all the time, doesn't it?

With the advent of YouTube, anyone can stream almost ANY performance by any band, especially if they appeared on TV. Yours truly has spent many, MANY hours looking at old footage by 60s artists on shows like Beat Club, Shivaree, Hullaballoo, Shindig, The!!!!! Beat, Ready Steady Go! and, of course, the old Ed Sullivan shows. Some groups come off really well live (The Hollies, The Seekers, The Who, and - surprisingly enough - The Pretty Things) and some, not so well (The Byrds, Led Zeppelin).

The Rascals are a very interesting case. I've owned their records all my life, and truly loved their records all my life. But since I saw (and heard) them on YouTube, the records pale in comparison - even though they're still great.

However, there was one Rascals record I never thought was all that wonderful - "Come On Up". It was one of the few tracks on their greatest hits LP that I'd always skip over. Compared to the soulful energy of their other 45s, "Come On Up", at least to my ears, is just plain sludgy. Of course, then I saw this YouTube video, and I realized that the song must have been a real rave-up in concert. But the record, to say the least, leaves me cold to this day.

Enter Thee Impalas. A Chicano soul/rock group from East L. A., they recorded two great singles for the Whittier label (home of Thee Midniters, the most popular Chicano band of all time). The first was a remake of the Barbara Mason soul standard, "Yes, I'm Ready", but for their second single, they must have consciously made up their minds to blow the doors off of the Rascals' 45, because it does. They took the Rascals' arrangement and stepped it up a few notches (much like The Rascals themselves did with "Good Lovin'", which The Olympics had the original hit with in 1965).

By the way, if you're interested in the world of Chicano Soul, here's a great website.


Thee Impalas - Come On Up (Whittier 506) - 1967

THE FOUR SEASONS - BERMUDA

A couple of weeks ago, my sister took my parents into New York City to see the Broadway production of "Jersey Boys" - which (if you've been living under a rock for the last four years) is the story of Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons.

I am a BIG Four Seasons fan. I almost HAVE to be. I was born in Newark, NJ. Everyone from that area (everyone I knew) talked about them. I constantly heard their songs on the radio. Their records were everywhere - in my dad's closet, at my aunt's house, in local garage sales and flea markets, they're even in old family photos. In fact, the Philips Records logo was one of the first ones I can really remember becoming fascinated with.

Unlike most folks, I don't have to look through the glass wall that Broadway provides for the tourists to get into the "real" story of the Seasons. I grew up with it all around me. I have been to Stephen Crane Village (on the Newark/Belleville border - where Valli was from) on numerous occasions - it's a slum, always has been a slum, and always will be a slum. I know the exact spot where the "Lookin' Back" LP cover was shot (down on the old Newark City Subway tracks, just past the Grafton Avenue bridge). Hell, Frankie Valli himself used to fill up his car at my dad's old gas station on Union Avenue in Belleville (using his credit card that said "Seasons' Four, Inc." - my dad used to save the receipts for my mom). Whenever I go to Tony's Barber Shop in Belleville, there's always at least ONE old paisan talking about Frankie - "VALLI? DAT GUY'S SO CHEAP, HE'S STILL GOT HIS FRIGGIN' COMMUNION MONEY!!!"

Another connection I had to The Four Seasons was more personal - one of my aunts was married for a time to one of the cousins of Nick Massi, original bass player for the Seasons until he left abruptly in 1965. My aunt's husband was a good guy, but he was definitely one of those Nicky Newark types - with the leather jacket, perfect Italian hair (exactly like John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever) and the Joe Pesci-style voice, constantly saying things like "I know a guy dat can take carradat faw ya" and "You tink you know dis guy? You don' know dis guy! Dis guy'll KILL ya! He'll hitcha wit' a friggin' BAT!" Anyway, one night, when I was about 17, my aunt came over with her husband, and he saw that I had some Four Seasons records out. He never really mentioned records or music in conversation (so of course we had NOTHING to talk about), but he looked at the LPs and said, "Oh, you like dese guys? You know dat I know dese guys, right?" At first I thought he was bullshitting me, but then he said, "yeah, Nick Massi, dat's my cousin, his real name's Macioce" and told me about the family. Then he pointed to Tommy DeVito and said, "you tink you know dat guy? He's just a singer, right? No, you don' know dat guy, dat guy's a gangster!! He'll rob ya as soon as look at ya!!"

I don't know if Tommy DeVito's a gangster or not (I've never met the man personally), but I do know quite a bit about the Seasons' history. Frankie Valli started out as a solo, waxing his first record for the Corona label in 1953 ("My Mother's Eyes") and then hooking up with NJ lounge group The Varietones. They changed their name to The Four Lovers, and signed with RCA Victor in 1956. They had a hit almost immediately with "You're The Apple Of My Eye", but the six follow up singles (and an LP, "Joyride") stiffed, and RCA dropped the group a year later. After making one more single for Epic in 1957 (a record so rare that mint copies go for about 1500 bucks), the group dropped their name and played the NJ club circuit under various other names (The Four Passions, Frankie Valli and The Romans) and recording the occasional single ("Come Si Bella" as Frankie Valle and The Romans on Cindy, "Please Take A Chance" as Frankie Valley on Decca).

Their fortunes changed in 1961 when a friend of the group's, Joe Pesci (yeah, that Joe Pesci), introduced them to Bob Gaudio, who had recently left The Royal Teens (of "Short Shorts" fame). Gaudio was working with successful producer Bob Crewe, making records for Crewe's Topix label. Gaudio introduced the group to Crewe, who was knocked out by their sound, and used them as backing vocalists on records by Hal Miller and The Rays and Turner Disentri (who was really Bob Gaudio). Unfortunately, Topix Records went bankrupt in mid-1961, and Crewe became an independent producer, a la Phil Spector.

By now the group had renamed themselves The Four Seasons, after a Union, NJ bowling alley where the group tried - and failed - to get a job as the house group for the alley's lounge. Crewe, having no established acts to work with, decided to record a single by his favorite backing vocalists. The result, "Bermuda"/"Spanish Lace", became the first-ever Four Seasons single. Leased to George Goldner's Gone label and released in December, 1961, the record died a quick death, and little wonder - the record owed less to the doo-wop-meets-Phil-Spector sound that the group would become known for than to their earlier, Italian-lounge sound. It's also the ONLY Four Seasons 45 (besides the Warner Brothers hits of the mid-70s) where Frankie Valli's storied falsetto is not used. The only thing that makes this recognizable as a Four Seasons record is Crewe's fill-it-up-to-the-brim production style.

Eight months after this was released, the group put out their second single, "Sherry", and we all know what happened next. But this first single remains buried in the recesses of time, a fascinating document bridging the gap between The Four Lovers and The Four Seasons.


The Four Seasons - Bermuda (Gone 5122) - 1961

THE GODZ - WIFFENPOOF SONG

There's really nothing I can say about The Godz that wasn't already said by Lester Bangs in his brilliant 1971 Creem magazine piece "Do The Godz Speak Esperanto?" If you've never read it, go find yourself a copy of "Psychotic Reactions And Carburetor Dung" (Vintage books, 1988),which is a compendium of the greatest work by the greatest rock critic ever (who, unfortunately, left us way too soon at age 33 in 1982).

The only thing missing from the essay is, well, the music itself. There was no such thing as a blog in 1971 (if there was, Lester would probably have the noisiest one of all), so you had to do things the old-fashioned way - you read the article, then hit the STREET to SEARCH OUT whatever Lester was writing about, instead of YouTubing it or downloading it or going on Amazon to order the CD. Or clicking on the sound link below.

This record was originally released as a 45-only stopgap between the Godz' second LP, "Godz Two" and their third LP, "The Third Testament". It was eventually re-released on the "Godzundheit" LP in 1973, but of course we all know the #1 rule of rock and roll record collecting - EVERYTHING sounds better on the mono 45.

A little history here: "The Whiffenpoof Song" is the theme song of The Whiffenpoofs, Yale University's traditional a capella group. The tune was written in 1909 by Tod Galloway, with lyrics by Meade Minnigerode and George S. Pomeroy. Rudy Vallee had the first hit version of it in 1927, and Bing Crosby had the biggest seller with it in 1947. Since then, there have been countless versions recorded (supposedly, even Elvis Presley did a version, though I've never heard it). But The Godz' version stands completely on its own (which probably accounts for the deliberate misspelling of "Whiffenpoof" as "Wiffenpoof", and also for lead guitarist/flautist Jim McCarthy's writing "credit").

So here it is, in all its cacaphonic glory, the best sheep record ever made.

(NOTE: please excuse the noise on this record; like most material originally released on the ESP label, it's ridiculously rare.)

The Godz - Wiffenpoof Song (ESP 4547/4548) - 1967

JOE TEX - DON'T PLAY

When the folks who consider themselves the "guardians" of the classic soul genre (VH1, BET, etc.) talk about the great soul men of the '60s, it's always the same artists - Marvin Gaye, Otis Redding, Aretha Franklin, Michael Jackson, Diana Ross (?!?!?!?!?!?) and James Brown. Not that they weren't great (even Diana Ross has a great voice, though I don't consider her a soul singer AT ALL), but truly great soul men who had a lot of hits get short-changed by these corporate monoliths disguised as "music programming". Solomon Burke is one of them. James Carr is another. Joe Tex is yet another, and the guy whose record I'll feature here (and it wasn't even a hit!!!).

I'm about to sound racist here, but I don't care. I think that the reason why Burke, Carr and Tex don't get the ink that Gaye, Redding, Franklin, etc. get is that the first three didn't chart that high on the pop (white) charts - most of their success was on the R&B, or "soul" side (I also DO NOT think it is a coincidence that Burke, Carr and Tex were WAY more church-based than Marvin or Otis or JB - Aretha's quite another story, though you could make the argument that the closer she got to church-based music, the less popular the records were). So basically, because white folks like 'em, Aretha, Marvin and Michael get all the press. Don't believe me? I lived through the '70s. You WERE NOT hearing Otis Redding's or James Brown's records on the radio.....but after James Brown appeared in "Rocky III" (or was it "IV"?) in 1986, EVERYBODY became "hip" to James Brown. People who couldn't name ONE of his records (besides "Living In America", of course) were suddenly dropping his name in conversation. Late-night talk shows were fighting to book JB. Otis Redding's records got a big boost from "The Blues Brothers" and, later, "Dirty Dancing". Now, it's taken for granted that Otis and JB were two of the greats of "classic soul" music - and they ARE - but it shouldn't be because the mainstream (white) media says so! (and by the way, this isn't just a white/black thing; the same phenomenon happened with Patsy Cline, who by the late 70s was all but forgotten - until Jessica Lange played her in the film "Sweet Dreams"; now she's considered one of the "cornerstones" of C&W music).

That's one of the reasons I like Joe Tex so much - he's like a dirty little hip secret to those of us who REALLY love soul music. Plus if I had to name the most TALENTED soul singer of all time, Joe Tex would certainly be the one I'd point to. Tex (b. Joseph Arrington, Jr. on August 8, 1933 in Baytown, Texas) could do it all - sing the deepest soul, make great dance records, blow ANYBODY off the stage (James Brown basically stole, among other things, Joe's microphone trick of pushing the mike stand away from him and, as it fell, catching it with his foot and bringing it back to him), and even do comedy bits! He could also sound like anyone he wanted to - check out some of his early sides like "Charlie Brown Got Expelled" or "You Little Baby Face Thing" (both on Ace, in which he sounds EXACTLY like The Coasters and Little Richard, respectively). After ten years in the business, Joe finally had his first hit in 1964 with "Hold What You've Got". After that, to paraphrase Bill Drake, the hits just kept on comin', with great tunes like "Show Me", "I Want To (Do Everything For You)", "Skinny Legs And All", "Buying A Book" and his biggest seller, "I Gotcha".

This record, recorded in 1962, was one side of one of the BADDEST records Joe ever released. The A-side of this 45, "You Keep Her", was written by Joe about his feud with James Brown - basically, James had a fling with Joe Tex's wife, Bea Ford, when they were touring together. After James had gotten what he wanted from Bea, he told Joe HE COULD HAVE HIS WIFE BACK! Joe wrote "You Keep Her" in response - not only did Joe steal the "Lost Someone" horn riff, he even calls James out (first name only) on the record! The hostility didn't end there, though - sometime in 1964 Tex and Brown were on the bill together at a show (some sources say New York City, others say JB's hometown of Macon, Georgia). Tex opened the show (he hadn't had his first big hit yet) and came out wearing a ratty blanket screaming, "please, please, please - somebody get this cape off me!!!" The audience went into convulsions, and James was so incensed by Joe's imitation that he went looking for him after the show - with a gun. James found him in another nightclub, and squeezed off six shots - reportedly, Tex was so cool he just sat there and COUNTED the shots out loud in James' face - not only that, after James emptied his gun, Joe said, "Jimmy, those high heels you wear make you shoot too high!!"

The story behind "You Keep Her" is pretty wild, but the song itself isn't all that hot. However, this B-side, "Don't Play", is one of the best tracks Joe ever did. Over a KILLER backbeat, Joe sings about all the ways he "don't play" - culminating with the line "When I was a baby, I wanna tell you/that I wasn't like the other boys/I hated playin' so doggone much/I told my daddy not to buy me no toys!" Of course, Joe ends the song by doing a letter-perfect James Brown scream and the band does a JB-style cold-end flourish.

Joe Tex, after an amazing career, retired in 1972 - though he did make several "comebacks", most notably with his 1977 hit "Ain't Gonna Bump No More (With No Big Fat Woman)" - and passed away at the relatively young age of 49 on August 13, 1982, at his home in Navasota, Texas.

If you've never heard Joe Tex, go find a used record store (they're drying up quickly, so go NOW) and pick up some of Joe's singles on Dial. You can still get 'em cheap, but the music contained within is anything but - after listening to a few of them, you'll really know the true meaning of soul. No, not Beyonce or Christina Aguilera doing Aretha-styled melismatic runs in the upper stratosphere, not today's male R&B smoothies who sound like they REALLY need to take an Ex-Lax and be done with it. Nope. It's about a singer, telling you about where he's been and what he's seen. Giving you the message as straightforward as possible. No smoke, no mirrors, just truth. None were more truthful than Joe Tex.



Joe Tex - Don't Play (Checker 1055) - 1963

BIG "C" and THE GALAXIES - THEN YOU'LL KNOW

I don't know a THING about this record, except that the group was from Zanesville, Ohio, and this MIGHT be the same Big "C" that recorded for the Bullet and Sur-Speed labels (and if it is, check out the excellent Dead Wax blog for his post on Big "C" here).

Oh, and that it's GREAT for twisting!

Big "C" and The Galaxies - Then You'll Know (Monza 101/102) - year unknown

JOE CARSON - THE LAST SONG (I'm Ever Gonna Sing)

I have always maintained that there is no such thing as "originality". If you do the research long enough, you'll almost ALWAYS find a precursor to that "original" idea. This is why, for example, there is NO right answer to the question "what was the first rock and roll record?" There IS no first, because it's all part of a continuum - there are at least 20 records from the late 1940s that could be called "rock and roll", but they could just as easily be called "R&B" or "jump blues" or "country boogie" or even "jazz".

The concept of "originality" has a LOT to do with people's perception - which, not coincidentally, is one of the fundamental rules of good salesmanship; it's all about people's perception of the product you're selling, no matter how crappy or useless the product is. With the arts (music, theater, painting, etc.), a different criterion also comes into play - obscurity. As in: the more obscure the person you're stealing from, the more "original" your work will seem to others.

I am NOT saying that the people who "steal" from these more obscure artists and become famous for being "original" are talentless hacks. Those who "steal" are usually the ones who love their particular art form SO MUCH that they are influenced by EVERYTHING they listen to - because they are listening to EVERYTHING in the first place! So if Keith Richards "steals" a Chuck Berry chord progression for a Rolling Stones record, and people who aren't all that familiar with Chuck's output (I don't know any of those people) buy the Stones record, they're gonna think, "Wow! What a great chord change! Keith Richards is a genius!" But that doesn't mean that Keith should be looked at as a no-talent hack who just steals other folks' riffs (though I'm pretty sure that Chuck sees it that way), it just means that Keith's Chuck Berry fixation has been so ingrained in his psyche, that Chuck and his riffs inform everything Keith does, even at the sub-conscious (or, in Keith's case, semi-conscious) level. Again, it's all part of a continuum, and also all about people's perception.

I think that same case could be made for the above record by Joe Carson being "stolen" by John Fogerty and Creedence Clearwater Revival for 1969's "Lodi". It's almost the exact same story: young musician goes to the big city to become a star, gets a few gigs, gets written up in the papers once or twice, but ends up going nowhere fast. Only difference between the two records is that while Fogerty is lamenting his lot in life, he's still gonna plug away at his chosen path, depressing as that may be, while Joe Carson is ready to quit, because he just can't take it anymore.

Ironically, Joe Carson was on his way to becoming a MAJOR country star when his life was cut short on February 28, 1964 in an auto accident. Born on November 21, 1936 in Holliday, Texas, "Little Joe" showed a remarkable aptitude for music, and by the age of 12 embarked on a professional music career. At sixteen he joined The Southernaires, who were the house band for the Southern Club in Lawton, Oklahoma, which was a major venue for many of the top country performers of the day, like Hank Williams, Tex Ritter, Little Jimmy Dickens, and Lefty Frizzell. Another member of the Southernaires was a young guitar player named Tommy Allsup, who would later become famous for playing lead guitar for Buddy Holly on that last, fateful tour of early 1959.

In 1954, Carson signed his first record deal with Mercury Records, releasing four singles which went nowhere. But Carson was a popular live act (appearing around this time on the Big D Jamboree out of Dallas, TX), and had no problem securing a deal with Capitol in late 1956 after the Mercury contract ended. Though the Capitol files say that Ken Nelson produced the sessions, pretty much everyone agrees that Joe Carson's old friend Tommy Allsup was really in charge. Unfortunately, the two Capitol singles Carson recorded died a quick death, and after making one more failed single for the D label in 1959, Joe Carson went back on the road, still searching for that one hit record that would put him over the top.

Carson's live act continued to impress, mainly because he was one of the greatest honky-tonk singers to ever step behind a microphone, right up there with Hank Williams, Lefty Frizzell, George Jones and Johnny Paycheck. He managed to secure a contract with Liberty Records in 1962, and after one flop single, "Shoot The Buffalo", that elusive first hit showed up - in the form of Willie Nelson.

At the time, Nelson was just beginning to taste success with his songwriting, with songs like "Family Bible" by Claude Gray and "Hello Walls" by Faron Young. Nelson was a big fan of Carson's, having seen him a number of times in Texas, and wrote a song for Joe called "I Gotta Get Drunk (And I Shore Do Dread It)". Joe recorded it on January 9, 1963, under the eye of his good friend Tommy Allsup, and it became a smash Top Ten hit on the country charts upon its release in May of 1963. The follow-up, "Helpless" (featuring a young Glen Campbell on guitar and backing vocals), also became a Top 20 country hit in August.

The flip of "Helpless" was "The Last Song (I'm Ever Gonna Sing)", and over the years it has become a lost classic - not only because of the pre-"Lodi" connection, but because of the ironic title (sort of like Chuck Willis dying after releasing "What Am I Living For" or Eddie Cochran after putting out "Three Steps To Heaven"). Of course, this record is LOADED with folks who worked closely with Buddy Holly - the song was written by Jerry Allison and Sonny Curtis, and was produced, once again, by Tommy Allsup - even more of an eerie coincidence.

After one more single, "Double Life", in January, 1964, Carson went back on the road. After a concert in Wichita Falls, TX on February 28th (in which, reportedly, the last song Carson sang was "The Last Song"), Carson packed his gear and got in his car. Unfortunately, he never made it home. He was 27 years old, leaving a wife, a young son, and the prospects of one of the greatest careers in country music history.

Joe Carson - The Last Song (I'm Ever Gonna Sing) (Liberty 55614) - 1963