Jerry Lee Lewis “Killer Country”
Before he was twenty three years old, Jerry Lee Lewis had three top ten Pop singles and two number ones on the Country charts. More astoundingly, he had already married three times. And, though it’s widely known and a storied subject at this point, two of those marriages technically amounted to polygamy and one was to his thirteen year old cousin, once removed. All of this before the age of twenty three.
It was the last marriage and the presumptive statutory rape that irrevocably changed Lewis’ career. Once revealed, the young Killer promptly cancelled his European tour and began a period of Pop expulsion and creative hibernation. He released several singles and albums between 1959 and 1967, but few charted. Moreover, none featured the ferocious, unstoppable, just-this-side-of-dangerous piano-boogie that had threatened to blow up the world in the 50s. By the age of thirty, Jerry Lee Lewis was a has been — undone by his own mania.
Then, in 1968, something unexpected happened. Jerry Lee Lewis came back as a bonafide Country star. “Another Place, Another Time” eschewed his infamous breakneck pace for a slower hopalong and set aside his frenetic howl for a deeper, sentimental middle range. In truth, Killer didn’t need much coaxing or training. He was already well versed in the form — it was always all around him. He grew up playing music with his cousin, and future Country star, Mickey Gilley. In church as a boy, he’d become both fluent in Gospel Music. Lewis’ version was born in the church and traveled through the saloon and into Memphis before it settled into itself. In the end, his version of Country was familiar enough to sound like what was played on the radio, but distinct enough to still sound like Killer. Almost nothing about the life of Jerry Lee Lewis made sense. But, his successful turn to Country music — though unexpected — seems logical in retrospect.
From 1968 to 1980, Jerry Lee Lewis was as reliable a hit maker as there was in Country music. Alongside his cousin, Mickey Gilley, and his other cousin, the Reverend Jimmy Swaggart, Lewis occupied a niche as a patron saint and patron sinner of the form. He brought an air drama and recklessness to the conservative and familiar. Although his records from the era are standard-ish Country fare, they contain enough Jazz, whiskey and satan below the surface to separate them from everything else in Nashville.
In 1979, at the age of forty four, and after a decade of steady, professional Country hits for Mercury Records, Lewis signed with Elektra. His brief tenure with Elektra marked a period of great productivity as well as the beginning of the end of his years as a hit maker. His fourth marriage, to Jaren Elizabeth Gunn Pate, ended in 1982 with her death by drowning just weeks before their divorce was to be finalized. In 1984, Lewis would be tried for tax evasion (he was found innocent). And, in 1988, he declared personal bankruptcy. But in 1979 and 1980, he cut three excellent, if overlooked, albums. Around this same time, Lewis also recorded another thirty songs during the oft-bootlegged “Caribou sessions,” which Elektra rejected on account of being unmarketable. As with the 50s, 60s and 70s, the 1980s were trying times for Jerry Lee Lewis. But the decade also marked a third peak for Killer, following the sonic boom of his early singles and his late 60s Country turn.
Of the three Elektra albums, the aptly named “Killer Country” is likely the best. By 1980, Lewis’ voice was somewhat shot, but in the way that a scarred body can still also be strong. His range is intact and his throat is full, but he sounds weathered and tired. If anything, his voice has the rasp of well earned character. For “Killer Country,” Elektra reunited Lewis with Eddie Kilroy, who had produced “Another Place, Another Time” over a decade before. And though the album was recorded in Nashville, Lewis was never a Music City insider. He played The Grand Ole Opry exactly once but flouted its rules and conventions, and was not invited back. As a result, the players on this record are not legendary Nashville session players. They are, however, a completely pro honky tonk band. Rather than sounding big or loud, they sound small and loose, like they are playing in a small bar or a double wide trailer. And though Lewis’ piano is everywhere, “Killer Country” is equally a guitar record. Although stylistically more conservative, there is something about the sound of the band that reminds me of Dylan and The Band’s “The Basement Tapes.” Just a bunch of guys doing their thing. Separate but together. Recording for themselves more than for the market or for posterity.
By 1980, Jerry Lee Lewis was acutely aware of his public perception. He was the womanizing “problem child” of the Class of ‘55. On “Killer Country” he embraced the persona, opening the album with a sped up version of Johnny Cash’s “Folsom Prison Blues.” Lewis is having fun with the outlaw trope, editing Cash’s original lyrics and adding fiddle and replacing the chugga chugga with cool, lead guitars. Lewis’ honky tonk version imagines himself behind bars:
You know, I bet there's rich folks eatin' in a fancy dining car
They're drinking Jack Daniels whiskey, smoking big caboose cigars
Stuck in Folsom prison, time keeps draggin' on
Every time I think of them women
God, I think of good ol' San Antone, yeah
Later, Killer goes rascal on the Chuck Berry throwaway, “Late Night Lovin Man,” and again on the more sexist than sexy, rockabilly romp “Let Me On.” Elsewhere, and repeatedly, he inserts himself into his songs, referring to “Jerry” or “Killer” in the third person. It can read like cartoon narcissism, as it does on “I’d Do it Again” and “Mama, This One’s for You.” On the former, a really good, classic Country number with loving slide guitar, Lewis acknowledges his age, but avoids regret. In fact, he swears that, if given another chance, he’d do it all the same. Doubling down, he assures us that while he might be a tick slower, he’s still not yet reached his prime:
I may forget a line or two
A few words now and then
It takes a drink to make me think
And live it all again
This gray you see don't bother Jerry Lee
And neither do these lines
I may have seen some better days, boys
But God knows, I ain't reached my prime
I've got some scars from a woman's war
And playing those one-night stands
Lord only knows, if I had the time
I'd do it all again
On “Thirty Nine and Holding” Lewis works overtime to assure us that he feels young, hasn’t lost a step and is still very vital. This time out, he pokes just enough fun at himself to turn a very good song into something more — a hit record. Over some plucky bass, rolling piano and fiddle, the vain singer celebrates the last birthday he’ll ever acknowledge and promises us that he’s still very much a (young) man. It’s a decent joke, but a great song.
The album closes with an unlikely, straight-faced rework of “Over The Rainbow.”Lewis’ voice sounds more beat up here than anywhere else on the album. His version of the standard sits on the cusp of wistful. It’s not the sunset version of the song. It’s the midnight version, but not the 2am version. Killer has had a few drinks but he’s still with us. He’s in good spirits. In fact, he’s sounding a bit romantic. The drunk and reckless guy won’t arrive for a couple of hours. Instead of Killer or the scoundrel or the ladies man, we just get Jerry Lee, the guy from Nowhere, Louisiana, near the Texas border. When that rainbow faded and the sun set on “Killer Country” it wouldn’t ever really shine the same way again.