When LaVerne Baker Snapped Her Fingers And Jim Dandy Came A Calling
Over the past several years as I have done what seems like an endless series of sketches on the music that I came age to (growing up chronological “came of age” not the political or social kind), the music now known as classic rock and roll (around mid-1950s to mid-1960s)I have noted that there was a serious dearth of female performers who could hold their own in that genre in those days unlike the later part of the 1960s when you had many like Grace Slick, Janis Joplin, Bonnie Raitt, Linda Rhonstadt and on and on who could belt out the lyrics with the likes of Mick and the other boys.
I have noted, seriously noted, Wanda Jackson’s pivotal place in that earlier pantheon and, of course, no survey of the classic age could be complete without paying homage to Ms. LaVerne Baker. Would, well, just not be complete, no question. She, like Ruth Brown, came out of the rhythm and blues beat that would blend with other stuff like rockabilly guitar licks to make up rock and roll and her classic Jim Dandy will always be a testament to her contribution. In a sense she is the female counterpart to Big Joe Turner and his Shake, Rattle and Roll for putting an extra beat, an extra sexy beat, and an extra energy in R&B which drove us crazy. Was there any kid, any guy anyway I don’t remember whether gals did it, who did not click those thumbs to perdition when LaVerne held forth on that number and a bunch of other finger-popping tunes she ran through in the late 1950s.
Here is a little comparison- Elvis (you know who I mean without the last name, right) did a great version of Lonnie Johnson’s Tomorrow Night but I frankly like LaVerne’s jumpier and hell-raising version better. So yes Ms. Baker did pay her dues, paid those dues double-time as a female rocker and as a black artist who confronted those benighted Southern dance halls-whites on one side, blacks on the other with a rope, Jesus, a rope between them, under Mister James Crow while she held forth at a time when you could tell by the film clips you see of such times that every kid in the room what ready to bust out dancing with whoever wanted to jump. Hey I guess I haven’t lost a step after all since I am listening to Jim Dandy as I write this one hand is started to voluntary finger-pop. Lordie, Lordie.
P.S. We caught LaVerne's act late one night in a jazz club in Cambridge after she had had some serious medical problems and thus was wheelchair bound. She still ripped the place up. Got it.
Over the past several years as I have done what seems like an endless series of sketches on the music that I came age to (growing up chronological “came of age” not the political or social kind), the music now known as classic rock and roll (around mid-1950s to mid-1960s)I have noted that there was a serious dearth of female performers who could hold their own in that genre in those days unlike the later part of the 1960s when you had many like Grace Slick, Janis Joplin, Bonnie Raitt, Linda Rhonstadt and on and on who could belt out the lyrics with the likes of Mick and the other boys.
I have noted, seriously noted, Wanda Jackson’s pivotal place in that earlier pantheon and, of course, no survey of the classic age could be complete without paying homage to Ms. LaVerne Baker. Would, well, just not be complete, no question. She, like Ruth Brown, came out of the rhythm and blues beat that would blend with other stuff like rockabilly guitar licks to make up rock and roll and her classic Jim Dandy will always be a testament to her contribution. In a sense she is the female counterpart to Big Joe Turner and his Shake, Rattle and Roll for putting an extra beat, an extra sexy beat, and an extra energy in R&B which drove us crazy. Was there any kid, any guy anyway I don’t remember whether gals did it, who did not click those thumbs to perdition when LaVerne held forth on that number and a bunch of other finger-popping tunes she ran through in the late 1950s.
Here is a little comparison- Elvis (you know who I mean without the last name, right) did a great version of Lonnie Johnson’s Tomorrow Night but I frankly like LaVerne’s jumpier and hell-raising version better. So yes Ms. Baker did pay her dues, paid those dues double-time as a female rocker and as a black artist who confronted those benighted Southern dance halls-whites on one side, blacks on the other with a rope, Jesus, a rope between them, under Mister James Crow while she held forth at a time when you could tell by the film clips you see of such times that every kid in the room what ready to bust out dancing with whoever wanted to jump. Hey I guess I haven’t lost a step after all since I am listening to Jim Dandy as I write this one hand is started to voluntary finger-pop. Lordie, Lordie.
P.S. We caught LaVerne's act late one night in a jazz club in Cambridge after she had had some serious medical problems and thus was wheelchair bound. She still ripped the place up. Got it.
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