Jimmy and the Mustangs: Ducktail oeuvre

1980s California birthed a jitterbop uprising that too often was slighted, as commenters focused more on Robert Gordon, the Stray Cats, and English have-a-go heroes like Graham Fenton and Cavan Grogan. (Of course, not for a moment do I intend to dismiss their significance in the scheme of resurgent twang.)

Ronny Weiser's Rollin' Rock herculian strivings deserve wide approbation. But other West Coast names also merit credit. Like Top Jimmy, Hollywood Fats, and James Intveld.

And Jimmy and the Mustangs.

Hey Little Girl (1982) was the group's virgin wax. Though a dapper Rockabilly firecracker of above-usual gifts, Jimmy Silvers (né Haddox) also knew related night-joint strains of senior vintage. His reanimations of Wynonie Harris, Baker Knight, and Louis Jordan shouters attested to diverse appreciation. He had furious chops that cashed the check his hepcat finery wrote. 

Fellow Californian stage-demolisher Jerry Sikorski tore at strings in spectacular manners (as he previously had with Ray Campi at Rollin' Rock, and went on to do with American Patrol). Associated players arched forward with the vigor of battle-ready recruits to a jukebox campaign. 

MTV didn't have a clue - but something big was bubbling.

Videos: "Bring Back My Cadillac" (Live TV)   "I Want You To Be My Baby" (Live TV) "Let's Dance"

(In 1983, repopulated Mustangs guested on TV comedy Square Pegs.)

MCA / Curb released the 1984, self-titled EP. Two years had elapsed since the auspicious maiden platter, and some alterations were manifested: A pronounced New Wave flair had partially replaced previous vintage honor, and Marshall Rohner had assumed lead guitar duties, as Jerry Sikorski had gone on to American Patrol. (Rohner wielded his guitar like a stilletto.)

The fire remained on highest setting. 

A kinetic reading of Kenny Lewis' 1964 novelty "Bad Detective" stormed with righteous enthusiasm (just as it had when covered by the Dolls in '74). All involved here were having a ball, a feature that was also loudly apparent on "I'll Steal For Your Love" and "Stomp." "Justine," perhaps the most frantic headfirst dive included among the six tracks, turned up in the soundtrack of 1984 film Voyage of the Rock Aliens.

The affection for traditional gestures returned in the closing slide-guitar, swaybacked "It's All Over Now" revisitation. Bobby Womack, who had co-written the 1964 Bluesy ambler with sister-in-law Shirley for his group the Valentinos, would surely have nodded approval.

Videos: "Justine" (Official video)   "The Pressure's On" (Live TV)   "It's All Over Now"

Not illogically, maturity takes a hand in these 2011 (again, self-titled) cuts, though hardly in reserved fashion. Instead, judiciousness leavens proceedings, which are no less grounded in Americana inclinations than before. 

Jimmy's voice reveals a wisdom gained through life variously trying and exultant. Assembled around him as he imbues common-man musics with idiosyncratic aplomb are players cut from stout cloth: Tom Coplen (guitar), Dylan Cavaliere (doghouse), John Powell (drums), and Stefano Intelisano (keys). Fiddle and harmonica are added by Heather Rae Johnson and Guy Forsyth.

The maturity previously noted was leashed, though, for "Wanted Man;" that selection rampaged with the gleefulness of any earlier LP's entry. 

Videos: "Wanted Man"  "How Can I Miss You (If You Won't Go Away)?"   "I-35"   

The rollicking hijinx and Rock'n'Roll history command that made earlier discs estimable breathes and jumps still, on 2015's Another Round. The disc acquits itself as infectious, animated, and possessed of particular sinew. This was much more than only an undersung name from 1980s neo-Rockabilly rising anew; it testified to enduring powerfulness worth broad regard.

Horns sprawled like tuneful abettors in swinging rollick. "Roll the Dice" stutter-skipped with brim atilt. The swinging nite-spot long-legging that once notoriously marked Sinatra and his Rat Pack confreres (and later a truck driver named Presley) spun and tapped across gleaming dance floors.

"Cherry Bomb" swung straight in behind. 88s were pounded as Rock'n'Roll had its familiar, beloved way with every ear in the joint. Back in saddles were TNT players from the previous studio endeavor. And their pumped-to-nth-degree onrushes (which wisely intuited when to play it cool and when to pour it on) were precisely the launch pad required by Jimmy's outsized personality. 

He crooned, soared, and belted like Nudie-shirted gangbusters. Tribute to the Norfolk-birthed Black Leather Rebel "Ready Set Go" romped in manner not unlike "Cruisin'," its impeccably picked dash nimbly turning on silvery FDRs.

Following in brash joyfulness was a passel of tunery in moments rumbustious and, frankly, ineffable. A Sikorski-penned stroll down N'awlins boulevards, "Bourbon Street" unspools to high-stepping fiddle cavortings and bass-string articulations, as Jimmy discloses calm orations.

Fellow vinyl denizens included under-moonbeam ballads and rockers that probably resulted in furniture kicked into splintered kindling.

Established far past reasonable disputation was that seasons that intervened betwixt Hey Little Girl and Another Round had exercised no weakening; muscularity, blood connection to bygone nights' teachings, and love of hipness bombardments remained in full bloom.

So, if you read an account of '80s-forward neo-Rockabilly that makes no mention of Jimmy and the Mustangs' coolness-on-10 oeuvre, throw that book straight through the fucking window.

Videos: "Roll the Dice"   "Cherry Bomb"   "Ready, Set, Go!"   "Bourbon Street"

Rock'n'Roll is as American as apple pie  

                                  
When some contemporary Rockabillies talk politics; they sound like Wavy Gravy in Haight Ashbury during the Psychedelic Mistake of the 1960s. 

Pretenders in today's scene comb their hair like Elvis, but vote like Jerry Garcia. They play populist American music while despising the patriotic ethos in the genre's marrow.

They've mastered the mechanics, but don't for a moment dig what it's all about. It can sound similar to the music we love, but without sincerity...it's far less than 100%

Rock'n'Roll historians recall that, when 15, Gene Vincent lied about his age to join the U.S. Navy during the Korean conflict. Like Vincent, Elvis served this country. 

So did many of their contemporaries. They were proud to be from the greatest country on Earth. Determined to defend her.

Gene named his landmark band, the Bluecaps, after Ike Eisenhower's favored golfing brim. Can you feature a present-day Rockabilly band adopting a moniker inspired by anything President Trump wears?

Of course you can't. Anti-Americanism thrives as lustily among some current roots bands as it did when Country Joe McDonald burned his thumb on a roach backstage at Woodstock.

Early Rock'n'Roll, before grasping executives with skyscraper offices domesticated and commodified it, was a swinging manifestation of real American values. Even if they didn't vocalize it, pioneers and fans understood the prevalent culture had drifted a far piece from our nation's foundational ideals. 

Like individual liberty, even when free expression discomfits others. Like tearing down bonds of stifling orthodoxy. Like going one's own way. And digging equality, with the understanding that there's just one race -- the human one.

From its inception in 'unrespectable' mileaus, Rock'n'Roll was a joyous, shattering, unapologetic 'fuck you' to a repressive status quo. Its progenitors were proud Americans. The form they forged was of the common American man. They neither indulged pernicious foreign fancies nor flirted with unpatriotic sloganeering.

Rockabilly is a rebel music -- or, at least, once was. There is nothing remotely counter-culture about catering to social pressures and 'progressive' dictates.

Healthy rebellion challenges unfairness and suffocation. It differs profoundly from kneejerk contrarianism. Opposing absolutely everything is puerile. 

To play honest Rock'n'Roll is to affirm pride in our country's character, opportunities, and paramount world status.

Those who play Rockabilly without believing in it are like someone speaking a foreign language. Anyone doing so, anyone who would quarrel with the reality that Rock'n'Roll is defiantly American (as it's classically defined), should retire the Bigsby Gretches and pegged pants. You ain't foolin' nobody who digs the real deal.

Cliff Richard & the Drifters

Essential Classics Vol. 823

(Essential Classics)

In 2020, Cliff told Callum Crumlish, of England's Express: "God bless him, but John Lennon said: ‘Before Cliff Richard and Move It there was nothing worth listening to in England.’”

As represented on these two compact discs, crooner Cliff was more than as good as the task he'd selected: lending British bouyancy and his own rave-up flourish to American Rock'n'Roll hits by Elvis, Gene, Little Richard, and similarly rough-hewn luminaries. Add to those songs' number originals (like Ian Samwell's Move It) that possessed their own jump'n'jive hearts. Cliff's marquee features ensured sales figures would know no hindrance. And the deal was sealed by his spring-heeled stage manner and hiccuped dynamism. Too, Donna and Living Doll showed he knew how to render a gossamer melody with due gentility, a gift that proffered particular attraction.

Cliff is rightly regarded as in England's bygone vanguard of teen idols. Lennon was bang on.

(Listen to No Turning Back's narrative to know what surely inspired Jumpin' Jack Flash.)

Recommended, Disc One: "Move It," "Donna," "Reddy Teddy," "Be-Bop-A-Lula," "Apron Strings," "Baby I Don't Care," "Danny (Lonesome Blue Boy)"

Recommended, Disc Two: "Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On," "Down the Line," "I Got a Feeling," "Jet Black," "Don't Bug Me Baby," "Living Doll," "No Turning Back" 

Videos: "Move It"   "Living Doll"   "No Turning Back"   

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