Jerry Lee Lewis - Jerry Lee Lewis The Knox Phillips Sessions The Unreleased Recordings (2014) [Hi-Res]
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BAND/ARTIST: Jerry Lee Lewis
- Title: Jerry Lee Lewis The Knox Phillips Sessions The Unreleased Recordings
- Year Of Release: 2014
- Label: Warner Music Group
- Genre: Country, Honky Tonk
- Quality: flac lossless / flac 24bits - 96.0kHz
- Total Time: 00:43:16
- Total Size: 248 / 874 mb
- WebSite: Album Preview
Tracklist
---------
01. Bad, Bad Leroy Brown
02. Ragged but Right
03. Room Full of Roses
04. Johnny B. Goode Carol
05. That Kind of Fool
06. Harbor Lights
07. Pass Me Not, O Gentle Savior
08. Music! Music! Music! Canadian Sunset
09. Lovin' Cajun Style
10. Beautiful Dreamer
Phillips Recording looks much as it did at its grand opening in 1960. That was the year Sam Phillips, then president of Sun Records, closed the old studio where he’d recorded Elvis, Johnny Cash, Jerry Lee Lewis, B.B. King and Howlin’ Wolf to open a new studio two blocks north. Even after Phillips sold Sun, he kept the new studio. His sons, Knox and Jerry, swear they’ll never relinquish it.
Ill health has curtailed Knox’s appearances at the studio of late, but there were years when he was there pretty much every day. When he felt those in his presence were deserving, he would play the Jerry Lee Lewis tapes he’d produced in the late 70s. Although no longer on Sun, Jerry Lee returned often to Phillips Recording. He was coming off a 10-year string of country hits at a time when progress in Nashville was gauged in slight adjustments to the formula. Nashville records were designed neither to excite nor to offend, bringing to mind a line from the Book of Revelations that Jerry Lee loved to paraphrase as you must be hot or cold, for if you are lukewarm the Lord will spew you out of His mouth. For a man conversant with popular music in all its manifestations, it all came down to one thing: God-given talent. Jerry Lee had it. At Phillips Recording, he once again gave some sense of all he knew and all he could do, just as he’d done at Sun in the 50s. And the piano, always de-emphasised at Mercury, was once again front and centre. Those who heard Knox’s tapes implored him to release them. That time has now come.
“Jerry Lee was always my favourite artist,” says Knox. “He can be ornery, but he has the sweetest heart in the world. After he left Sun we got reacquainted in the studio. His Mercury sessions only gave an inkling of what he could do. They found great songs, but they were just country. They had stockholders to answer to, so they wouldn’t make any giant excursions, but Sun was always about differentness, and so am I.
“One thing I took from my dad was that producing a record means creating a situation where a genius can play with reckless abandon. Like Dan Penn always says, I’ll go out on a limb, and if it breaks, that’s OK with me. Jerry Lee hadn’t captured that reckless abandon for a long time before this. I’d play these tapes for people I thought ought to hear them, but I wouldn’t release them out of respect for Jerry Lee, because I didn’t want to compete with whatever he had going on. Now the time feels right for both of us.”
Bless Knox Phillips for embracing all that Jerry Lee Lewis is, and for creating the atmosphere conducive for him to express it. Sounds simple enough, except that no one but his father did it before ... and no one has done it since.
'Get the Killer down on tape right and we'll make millions,' growls Jerry Lee Lewis at the beginning of The Knox Phillips Session. Jerry Lee proceeds to slide into an exceptionally sleazy version of Jim Croce's 'Big Bad Leroy Brown,' which he riddles with references to strippers and Watergate. He calls himself a motherhumper, he calls Nixon a motherhumper, but he doesn't hesitate to sing 'shit,' he sounds about five sheets to the wind and concludes the whole shambling thing by slurring 'I have struck again with a 14-million-selling underground record.' That's a pretty good tip-off to what The Knox Phillips Sessions are. Recorded by Knox Phillips, the son of Sun founder Sam, in either the mid- or late '70s -- roughly around the time Killer was concluding or had concluded his contract with Mercury -- it's hard to imagine there were ever commercial considerations for these sessions. They're too loose, Jerry Lee sounds too rough (which is just a kind way of saying he often sounds drunk), he spends a fair amount of time threatening to kick his band's ass, the repertoire draws heavily from songs he's sung many, many times before, including songs by Chuck Berry, Stephen Foster, hymns, and 'Room Full of Roses,' the old George Morgan tune he takes at a speed similar to his cousin Mickey Gilley's hit version. All of these things doomed these recordings to stay unreleased for years but they're also the reason to hear The Knox Phillips Sessions now that they've been released from the vaults. It's hard to say that this record captures Jerry Lee Lewis at either his purest or best -- it doesn't have the fury of either his live '60s sessions or his Sun sessions, while the finesse of the studio Mercury sides are missed; here, his playing is sloppy and his rhythm section has a tendency to plod -- but it is thoroughly him in its attitude and aesthetic. He bends all these songs to suit where he's at in the moment, the songs finding a different life according to when he sings them, and he just happened to be soused, vulgar, and nasty at this point in the '70s. Lewis isn't as demented on this 'underground' record as David Allan Coe is on his, but that's because the Killer wasn't trolling: he was just recording songs he wanted to sing when he was half blitzed in the studio late at night. This makes it a throwaway but one that's special: it's Jerry Lee Lewis performing for no one but himself and no matter how ragged it is, that's something to cherish.“ (Stephen Thomas Erlewine)
---------
01. Bad, Bad Leroy Brown
02. Ragged but Right
03. Room Full of Roses
04. Johnny B. Goode Carol
05. That Kind of Fool
06. Harbor Lights
07. Pass Me Not, O Gentle Savior
08. Music! Music! Music! Canadian Sunset
09. Lovin' Cajun Style
10. Beautiful Dreamer
Phillips Recording looks much as it did at its grand opening in 1960. That was the year Sam Phillips, then president of Sun Records, closed the old studio where he’d recorded Elvis, Johnny Cash, Jerry Lee Lewis, B.B. King and Howlin’ Wolf to open a new studio two blocks north. Even after Phillips sold Sun, he kept the new studio. His sons, Knox and Jerry, swear they’ll never relinquish it.
Ill health has curtailed Knox’s appearances at the studio of late, but there were years when he was there pretty much every day. When he felt those in his presence were deserving, he would play the Jerry Lee Lewis tapes he’d produced in the late 70s. Although no longer on Sun, Jerry Lee returned often to Phillips Recording. He was coming off a 10-year string of country hits at a time when progress in Nashville was gauged in slight adjustments to the formula. Nashville records were designed neither to excite nor to offend, bringing to mind a line from the Book of Revelations that Jerry Lee loved to paraphrase as you must be hot or cold, for if you are lukewarm the Lord will spew you out of His mouth. For a man conversant with popular music in all its manifestations, it all came down to one thing: God-given talent. Jerry Lee had it. At Phillips Recording, he once again gave some sense of all he knew and all he could do, just as he’d done at Sun in the 50s. And the piano, always de-emphasised at Mercury, was once again front and centre. Those who heard Knox’s tapes implored him to release them. That time has now come.
“Jerry Lee was always my favourite artist,” says Knox. “He can be ornery, but he has the sweetest heart in the world. After he left Sun we got reacquainted in the studio. His Mercury sessions only gave an inkling of what he could do. They found great songs, but they were just country. They had stockholders to answer to, so they wouldn’t make any giant excursions, but Sun was always about differentness, and so am I.
“One thing I took from my dad was that producing a record means creating a situation where a genius can play with reckless abandon. Like Dan Penn always says, I’ll go out on a limb, and if it breaks, that’s OK with me. Jerry Lee hadn’t captured that reckless abandon for a long time before this. I’d play these tapes for people I thought ought to hear them, but I wouldn’t release them out of respect for Jerry Lee, because I didn’t want to compete with whatever he had going on. Now the time feels right for both of us.”
Bless Knox Phillips for embracing all that Jerry Lee Lewis is, and for creating the atmosphere conducive for him to express it. Sounds simple enough, except that no one but his father did it before ... and no one has done it since.
'Get the Killer down on tape right and we'll make millions,' growls Jerry Lee Lewis at the beginning of The Knox Phillips Session. Jerry Lee proceeds to slide into an exceptionally sleazy version of Jim Croce's 'Big Bad Leroy Brown,' which he riddles with references to strippers and Watergate. He calls himself a motherhumper, he calls Nixon a motherhumper, but he doesn't hesitate to sing 'shit,' he sounds about five sheets to the wind and concludes the whole shambling thing by slurring 'I have struck again with a 14-million-selling underground record.' That's a pretty good tip-off to what The Knox Phillips Sessions are. Recorded by Knox Phillips, the son of Sun founder Sam, in either the mid- or late '70s -- roughly around the time Killer was concluding or had concluded his contract with Mercury -- it's hard to imagine there were ever commercial considerations for these sessions. They're too loose, Jerry Lee sounds too rough (which is just a kind way of saying he often sounds drunk), he spends a fair amount of time threatening to kick his band's ass, the repertoire draws heavily from songs he's sung many, many times before, including songs by Chuck Berry, Stephen Foster, hymns, and 'Room Full of Roses,' the old George Morgan tune he takes at a speed similar to his cousin Mickey Gilley's hit version. All of these things doomed these recordings to stay unreleased for years but they're also the reason to hear The Knox Phillips Sessions now that they've been released from the vaults. It's hard to say that this record captures Jerry Lee Lewis at either his purest or best -- it doesn't have the fury of either his live '60s sessions or his Sun sessions, while the finesse of the studio Mercury sides are missed; here, his playing is sloppy and his rhythm section has a tendency to plod -- but it is thoroughly him in its attitude and aesthetic. He bends all these songs to suit where he's at in the moment, the songs finding a different life according to when he sings them, and he just happened to be soused, vulgar, and nasty at this point in the '70s. Lewis isn't as demented on this 'underground' record as David Allan Coe is on his, but that's because the Killer wasn't trolling: he was just recording songs he wanted to sing when he was half blitzed in the studio late at night. This makes it a throwaway but one that's special: it's Jerry Lee Lewis performing for no one but himself and no matter how ragged it is, that's something to cherish.“ (Stephen Thomas Erlewine)
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