Link Wray: Unauthorized live CD adds more evidence for a Hall of Fame induction

[review by Bill Glahn]

Link Wray: Live… My Father’s Place 1979 (Klondike KLCD 5079)

Venue: June 22, 1979 My Father’s Place, Roslyn, NY

Cover: 8-page insert with extensive liner notes with tray card in traditional jewel case

Sound Quality: very good - most likely taken from a circulating flac file that lists the sonic path as FM analog (3^rd generation, cassette) > DAT > CD-R clone > transfer to flac file (no eq, sound level adjusted). That would make this silver disc an internet lift, as the sound is pretty much identical. Not the kind of instrument separation you’d get from mastering analog to disc, but very listenable nonetheless.

Tracklist: Blue Suede Shoes/ Fever/ Jack The Ripper/ It’s All Over Now Baby Blue/ Baby What You Want Me To Do/ Don’t/ Money/ Peggy Sue/ Run Chicken Run/ Ace of Spades/ You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling/ Love Me/ I Fought The Law/ I Saw Her Standing There/ Rawhide/ Rumble

Comments: The gravest omission from the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame, in my opinion, has to be Link Wray. And not just because he is cited as a major influence by every guitarist of note from Jimmy Page to Neil Young to Stevie Van Zandt. Many music historians have noted the sonic boom of Wray’s first hit single, the instrumental, “Rumble (1958).” Iggy Pop takes it further, citing his punk attitude. Wray has been nominated twice, but the deaf ears of the Hall’s voting contingent have never taken it to full blown inauguration. But anyone who followed Wray’s career past 1958 knows that Wray should be in the Hall for a lot more reasons than that.

“Rumble” provides a centerpiece in the film, It Might Get Loud, with Jimmy Page, The Edge, and Jack White marveling at the playing of the single all those years later. This is a problem when a single has such a profound impact on the music world that it pigeonholes an artist like Wray. What the labels wanted was more of the same – loud and brutal instrumentals. Which Wray delivered in spades with follow-ups like “Rawhide,” “Jack The Ripper,” and “Ace of Spades.” The record companies milked the string of popularity on instrumentals until the mid sixties, whereupon instrumental artists like Wray and Dick Dale and Duane Eddy found themselves persona non-gratis.

So, in 1971, Link Wray reinvented himself and quietly jumpstarted the DIY movement in the process. Recorded in a three-track studio converted from an old chicken shack on the family farm, Wray, along with brother Vernon (no slouch either) behind the board, created a piece of Americana that stands up well to this day. He found an interested buyer for the recordings in Polydor, a European major that had opened a U.S. branch in 1969 and had an impressive list of acts. Wray would record 3 more albums for Polydor before moving on. Although relatively quiet as a recording act in the mid seventies, Wray moved to San Francisco and became a popular live act, often teaming up with John Cipollina. A number of excellent broadcast recordings featuring the Wray/Cipollina pairing over KSAN are worth hunting down. But Wray also did a lot of European touring in the late seventies, where he has always remained popular. Two Wray singles from the album, Bullshot, were released in Europe during the punk apex, a version of Bob Dylan’s “It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue,” and Little Willie John’s “Fever,” both delivered with maybe a little too much production, but both distinctly Wray. And if Iggy Pop was adopted as “godfather” by the punks, Wray was adopted as the grand elder. For once, Link Wray seemed to be in sync with, instead of ahead, of the times. At least across the ocean. Neither single was released in the States. Which is the period captured by this CD.

Several shows were broadcast on a summer promotional tour of the northeast for Bullshot, including this one. And it’s a doozy. Wray had put a live set together that consisted pretty much of a history of rock ‘n’ roll framed in power chords and stinging leads. Keith Lentin (bass) and Anton Fig (drums) provide a powerhouse rhythm section and the trio dropped the production frills and turned up the volume.

Klondike has included the entire set, starting with a rousing version of Carl Perkins’ “Blue Suede Shoes” and closing up with Wray’s most famous tune, “Rumble.” In between there are covers of Jimmy Reed, Elvis Presley, Barrett Strong by way of The Beatles, Buddy Holly, The Righteous Brothers and others, along with some of Wray’s best known tunes.

As a singer, Wray has a limited range (the lower register of Elvis Presley or Roy Orbison without the high end abilities of either). But he generally sticks within his limits and had become a fine vocalist by this time. On the couple of tunes where he attempts to stretch it out, (i.e. “I Saw Her Standing There”) the results aren’t particularly good. Wray paces the set with a couple love ballads, but basically it’s a start-to-finish blitzkrieg.

Two months later, he would record the highly acclaimed Live at the Paradiso live album in Europe (later released under license in the US. On Visa Records) and move to Europe soon after. Link Wray remained in Europe for the rest of his life where he enjoyed continued popularity and a steady touring career. It’s a tragedy that he never received equal respect in the U.S. and certainly an egregious oversight by the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame that he wasn’t inducted on day one. With all the testimony by musicians already in the Hall about his impact as a major influence, the continued absence of Wray remains an embarrassment. Obviously, the Hall is more interested in selling tickets these days than presenting a proper history.

With a master source tape, and a legitimate release, properly edited for mass consumption, this is the type of recording that has a shot at a Grammy award in several categories (Lifetime Achievement Award, Best Americana Roots Performance). Maybe that’s the road to get the HoF off their duff. Years of fan complaints certainly haven’t.

Bonus: If Elvis looked badass on his 1968 comeback special, Link Wray looked downright DANGEROUS on stage throughout his career, like an axe-carrying delinquent. And that's certainly how the establishment viewed him from the start. "Rumble" was banned from many radio stations because it was viewed as violent and a bad influence - sort of like the instrumental predecessor of "Louie Louie."