The air seemed to stick to my face as I walked through the door into a summer’s morning in London. The escalator ride down from the penthouse had been claustrophobic. I felt I had awoken, the spell had been broken, and I was back in the real world.
Jerry Lee Lewis at play. Note the Chinese takeaway still in foil top right.
Yesterday did not feel any different until the phone rang in my basement flat in South Villas, Camden Town. A car would pick me up in an hour and drive me across town where I would meet the scribe (Chalkie White) and we would join the tour bus going down to Brighton. The phone call had been from the NME to one of their aspiring photographers trying to make a name.
I Wasn’t Going To Turn Down Jerry Lee Lewis
Jerry Lee Lewis, even back then, was one of the best known musicians on the planet. As a friend of Elvis and Carl Perkins he is known simply as The Killer. Great Balls of Fire, marrying a 14 year old and still rocking strong, I was in that car without a second thought.
The tour bus was relatively subdued, the backing band all seemed to be on the high side of 40 and the crew were wiped out. Not quite the rock n’ roll lifestyle I was expecting, but it was 3 o’clock in the afternoon, after all. Jerry Lee was not on the bus, of course.
But he did appear on stage as promised. The band were awake but you couldn’t take your eyes off him, or your camera, in my case. Dressed in a sharp suit and open neck shirt he looked more like a maitre d’ than the legend he undoubtedly is. His piano shared centre stage with him and nothing or know one else was going to take that spotlight from him. I knew some of the songs, the ballads were a little slow but we all knew what was coming. The tempo increased, the band got looser and the decibel level continued to increase. Off come the jacket and the shirt was unbuttoned further. His feet were banging on the keys and his voice was breaking….’goooodness gracious GREAT balls of fire!
As the smoke cleared so had Jerry Lee Lewis – probably never to be seen again by me through my camera lens or not. I had got some shots and fulfilled my brief for the paper but just how interesting can you make a shot of a man standing at a piano for 90 minutes?
I needed food, I needed a drink but I also needed to make sure I didn’t miss the tour bus back into London when it eventually left.
I sat opposite to Chalkie and we discussed the gig on the drive back. He could certainly write his review but like me he wondered if there was more? Chalkie told me he had met Jerry Lee’s tour manager before and it worth be worth a saunter up to the front of the bus to ask the question. To my amazement he had agreed to drop us off at Jerry Lee’s hotel and would arrange an interview with him when we were back in London. That night!
As the full page article appeared in New Musical Express (NME)
As the escalator took us up to the penthouse it was already 1.00 in the morning. We knocked and Jerry Lee opened the door. He welcomed us in and ushered us to a couple of seats that were facing another piano, where he had been previously sitting. He sat down on the stool. There were no rock ‘n roll trappings in his hotel suite. My eye though went to a take away container on top of the piano. ‘That’s my Chinese…” he said to me, in his Louisiana drawl.
Sipping Bourbon with Jerry Lee Lewis
Chalkie, me and Jerry Lee chatted and I took a few photo’s. We sipped on bourbon and relaxed. The question and answer sessions had finished, we were all tired and so Jerry started telling us about his past, his roots and his influences. Country music was in his heart so he played and sang. A little bit more about his home life between songs and then, ” Do you remember this one…?” or “I used to play this with Carl (Perkins)?” When singing country his voice is mild and restrained, his phrasing and timing relaxed.
Am I really sitting here and being serenaded by a very laid back Jerry Lee in the early hours of a Sunday morning. I kept glancing at Chalkie and he couldn’t keep his mouth shut unless he was taking another sip. But no words were coming out. Jerry Lee shuffled about on his stool occasionally twisting his gaze towards us. He kept singing and playing his way through his personal repertoire colouring his songs with anecdotes of his youthful years.
Eventually he had finished, and so were we. We thanked him for the time he had spent with us but it could never be enough. As we moved towards the exit I remember noticing that the Chinese take away was still sitting on top of his black piano.
What a Gift Jerry Lee Lewis Gave to Me
I didn’t realise it for many years but Jerry Lee had planted a seed in my soul that we develop into a life long love of country music. What a gift.
I never saw Chalkie again and I doubt I will see Jerry Lee either? But I will always remember that night.