This is the day when History was grabbed by its Great Balls of Fire, says Katie Jarvis. An impromptu 1950s jam session where four greats accidentally met in one room. Go and see it – and dance the night away
It’s a funny old thing, is time. I mean, you can while away an afternoon, an evening, watching telly or painting the utility.
Or you can grab History by its great balls of fire, drag it from conducting a full orchestra for Doris Day singing It’s Magic, and hold it hostage to wild, wild chords, madly suggestive hips, and impromptu – unrehearsed – essence of genius.
Same timeframe.
Different outcomes. (Especially for the utility room.)
It wasn’t just History that was taken aback when rock ‘n roll reshaped the world. God was caught napping, too. Not since the Garden of Eden had Satan had such uproarious success in gaining the upper hand.
This was the Devil’s music.
And despite the rockers’ propensity for singing the occasional Gospel song, the boys were themselves nervously unsure as to whether they’d end up Down by the Riverside – or somewhere much, much warmer.
Anyway.
This is the story of a day when rock ‘ roll History was made.
What a night (or day – honestly; can’t quite verify the exact hours during which it took place; but who cares). Early December back in 56. We’re in the Sun Record Studios in Memphis, Tennessee, where label owner Sam Phillips is trying out his new acquisition. A mad-eyed unknown by the name of Jerry Lewis.
Sorry – Jerry LEE Lewis.
Lewis (oh, my, Joe Bence; you are genius), from Ferriday, Louisiana, is knocked out by an inside outhouse (if you see what I mean) in the hotel the night before. ‘I must ‘ve flushed that about a thousand times.’ The rest of the gathering is knocked out by his seemingly casual bigamous gathering of wives – he’s barely 21 – his mouth barely smaller than his piano (well able to accommodate the metaphorical foot he constantly manages to put into it); and his wild, wild music style.
So, the facts as set down in true life:
Carl Perkins – another Sam Phillips discovery (and where do I go with this? Because the cast – one and all – is sheer wonder) – has come into the studio with his brothers Clayton and Jay (reasonably whittled down to one brother in Million Dollar Quartet) and drummer WH Holland to record some new material. Perkins has had success with his own-penned Blue Suede Shoes; now to capitalise on that.
Early afternoon, 21-year-old Elvis walks in to see Sam (who first signed him; Elvis is now with RCA Victor), accompanied by girlfriend Marilyn Evans (morphed into Dyanne in this production, played by the outstandingly, fabulously voiced Olivia-Faith Kamau).
And who should join them but Johnny Cash, another Sun artist.
And thus begins – by pure chance - a jam session to beat all jam sessions; a session that History bitterly regrets not scheduling, thus being able to take the credit.
So to the Barn Theatre production, Million Dollar Quartet, marking this gathering of embryonic musical majesty.
And, really, what a night. An absolutely fantastic night.
If you only go for the playlist (Blue Suede Shoes, Real Wild Child, Hound Dog, I Walk the Line – so many more), then you’ll have a ball (a Great Balls of Fire ball, of course).
But there are other things to say about this production (marvellous directed by Alex Sutton; brilliantly musically directed by Sam Beveridge).
Subtle though – in many ways – the story is (after all, this is about music); it’s movingly interwoven in between numbers. There’s the worry Perkins has about finding the right next song; the rivalry between members; the ‘deceit’ (as the riveting Sam/Simon Shorten sees it) of his boys finding more lucrative deals with bigger record labels.
And, for me most fascinatingly, there are the back stories.
The poverty from which these boys came. Lewis’s parents mortgaged their impoverished farm to buy him his first piano (presumably at a point when his dad wasn’t in jail). Perkins was taught guitar by (no surprise here) ‘an old black fellow, Uncle John, across the field’.
There’s Sam’s initial reaction when – back in time – Perkins first walked in with a song about his shoes. Shoes? But, then, yes: being able to afford shoes – fashionable shoes – wasn’t a yearning; for these boys it was high ambition.
It’s about the tragedy. Lewis’s dead eight-year-old brother, buried in the backyard. Cash’s 14-year-old brother, killed in an accident working in a sawmill. Elvis’s twin who died just after they were born.
An age when life was cheap; gasoline – up to 25 cents – was expensive.
The rock ‘n roll repertoire had the Barn’s audience standing in the aisles; whooping encores; waving their arms, and singing along. Superb.
But – me – I loved the Gospel songs they sang that day – on stage and in the black-and-white, fuzzy recording history books. Down by the Riverside. The emotional Peace in the Valley.
I could have listened all night.
My standouts were Joe Bence with his captivating portrait of wild man Jerry Lee. Olivia-Faith Kamau with her seductive presence and even more seductive voice. And Lucas Koch as Johnny Cash.
But, really, that’s unfair; it was all of them – Joe Butcher, AJ Jenks Melker Nilsson (what a musician), Jay Osborne – the whole caboodle.
The only thing that has dated is the value put on this group: multi-trillion dollar quartet as they now would be.
As for the rest? The music is still bang on. Go and see it. You’ll dance the night away.
Million Dollar Quartet is showing at the Barn Theatre until July 16
The Barn Theatre, Beeches Road, Cirencester; 01285 648255; barntheatre.org.uk
