When The Blues Is Dues- The Byrds So You Want To Be A Rock And Roll Star

 

From The Pen Of Frank Jackman

…who knows when that sound hits the brain, or rather sounds put together to make the sway, to make the movement, and, in the end, that ferocious desire to replicate that long ago felt tribal combination. Maybe it went back to the womb, sitting, better rolling and hence a jump up on the swaying , all attuned to every stimulant, repeated back to some primeval forest dwelling, Adam and Eve time, maybe before, maybe. Or more realistically maybe back to cradle Mother Africa times, high wind-swept desert time in some Nile river flow, all bunched up against old Pharaoh’s lashes, and sing- song was the only way to keep rolling those stones up that pyramid hill. And some ancient forbear hearing that rushing river and those desert winds started swaying, started moving just a little bit different from cave times, and kept that thought embedded in all the slave ages. Or maybe, and here I speak of Billy maybe, Billy Riley from the old neighborhood, hometown Hullsville, maybe, it was just some reaction, from the womb or not, to the sounds hear in about 1943, his birth year, coming from some old wooden-faced RCA radio booming out Doris Day, Harry James,  Lena Horne, the Duke, the Count, the Inkspots, and he said, no, declared, no way, no way in hell was that his sway (although he may, or may not, have known to use that neighborhood friendly word).          

And the reason that Billy, William Riley, was saying that big “no” however he expressed it was because in the year of our lord 1955 he saw, saw live on television, all in beautiful black and white,  Mister Billy Haley and his Comets performing Rock Around The Clock (and later Elvis, and Bo, and Chuck, and Jerry Lee but Brother Haley was the ding-dong-daddy that got him swaying that ancient sway) and that settled things, settled things for one Billy Riley, at least while the dream held.  Billy Riley decided right then and there that he had his ticket out of the no dough, no girls, nowhere old town. And he almost made it, almost turned the tide, the red sea tide on old Pharaoh.     

See Billy had a pretty good voice, a pretty solid voice for a twelve year old, a little Elvis snarl and turned- up lip voice, a little be-bop be-bop Bo Diddley beat feel, a little manic Jerry Lee squeal in just the right places. Check. Billy had pretty good moves, natural untrained moves, moves that with a little help could be twisted in some sellable commodity. Check. Billy also had good looks, maybe not the haughty Elvis flip, or Jerry Lee jut jaw but good enough. Check. And Billy, in old sixth grade class, at school dances, and church concerts got the girls going, got them  going maybe too much (got them wet, sweaty, whatever, if one was to believe the talk in the dance or concert girls’ room  at intermission or at Monday morning before school girl gabs). Check. Moreover Billy was ready, more than ready, after a few successes winning contests in local talent shows (really against nothing competition except one doo wop girl three some that beat him bad but he chalked that up to them being “hot”) and after he started drawing scout attention, to sell himself to the devil, the devil’s brother, or whomever one sold out to in order to get that old neighborhood jail break-out chance. Check    

But see too something happened to Billy, happened out of the blue, when he hit thirteen, his voice changed and he started sounding like all smooth and silky like Mister Perry Como and so he was finished before he even began (although the girls still hovered around him for a while). But know this too through a troubled youth (his parents divorced, father off with some woman, heading south, and mother picking up guys, “uncle” guys, whenever she had the chance),  through a couple of scrapes with the law (a couple of off-hand gas station robberies, kid’s stuff) , through two tours in ‘Nam (and a couple of purple hearts and some other medals) , through a couple of drug addictions (reefer, sister), through a couple of bouts of homelessness (one after his first marriage fell through the floor)Billy Riley never lost that idea that he could have been a rock and roll star, could have challenged the king in all his glory. Yah, maybe it did go back to Pharaoh times...

So You Want To Be A Rock 'n' Roll Star Lyrics

by The Byrds

from The Country Bears Soundtrack

So you want to be a rock and roll star?
Then listen now to what I say.
Just get an electric guitar
Then take some time
And learn how to play.
And with your hair swung right,
And your pants too tight
It's gonna be all right.
Then it's time to go downtown
Where the agent man won't let you down.
Sell your soul to the company
Who are waiting there to sell plastic ware.
And in a week or two
If you make the charts
The girls'll tear you apart.

The price you paid for your riches and fame,
Was it all a strange game?
You're a little insane.
The money, the fame, and the public acclaim,
Don't forget who you are,
You're a rock and roll star.