- by Joe Nolan, Friday, October 19th, 2007
The Mar-Keys
After two successes with the Thomases’, Satellite had solidified its reputation as a little label capable of creating big hits that could find an audience at a national level. This special brand of soul was was beginning to leave its mark on the popular consciousness at a time when the civil rights struggle in the South and Memphis was about to reach a flash point that would ignite an entire nation and create one of the most important cultural movements in American history.
One of the things that made this new kind of Memphis music so special is the recordings were the result of a shared effort between black and white musicians in an environment that every participant states was emphatically color blind. This blend of cultural experience and musical tastes gave the soul songs coming out of Satellite the depth of gospel music, the infectious danceability of rhythm and blues, and the lilting sweetness of the best of country music.
In addition to the innovative recording techniques Chips Moman brought to the studio, he also brought a great talent for casting musicians for his sessions. It was obvious to everyone concerned that Moman couldn’t have cared less about the color of a player’s skin. Remarkably - given the prevailing attitudes of the time - Moman chose his musicians according to talent alone. In doing so he deserves a share of the credit for establishing Stax as a place where music trumped racial hang-ups and ignorant prejudice. He also can be thought of as the architect behind one of the greatest studio bands of all time.
Packy Axton and the Royal Spades had been cutting their teeth since their high school days, practicing at the old Satellite studio in Brunswick. Now that his uncle and aunt’s label had become known as a place where hit songs were being created under the direction of a talented producer and engineer, Packy was determined to make sure some of the luck rubbed off on the ‘Spades.
Axton generally made himself a ubiquitous presence in the old theatre, hanging at the record shop, checking in with his relatives and getting to the other side of the control room door whenever he could, making sure Moman knew he was a musician with a band that needed to be recording. If Moman was reluctant to take the enthusiastic young man seriously, his need for players at the studio got the best of him. Soon the ‘Spades found themselves spending a lot of time down on McLemore Ave.
One of the first signs that the boy’s new status was affecting the way they thought of the band and its music was a name change. In honor of the old theatre that had become their new home, the Royal Spades became The Marquees. After finding that many would-be fans couldn’t pronounce the name, the boys - undeterred - embraced the great rock ‘n roll tradition of creative spelling and decided they had now become The Mar-Keys.
Sources:
Peter Guralnick’s Sweet Soul Music, Harper and Row, 1986
James Dickerson’s Goin’ Back to Memphis, Simon and Schuster Macmillan, 1996
Michael Haralambos’ Right on: From Blues to Soul in Black America, Drake Publishers, 1975
Respect Yourself: The Stax Story, documentary film, produced by Tremolo Productions,
Concord Music Group and Thirteen/WNET New York, for PBS’ Great Performances, 2007
Joe Nolan is a poet, musician and freelance journalist in Nashville, TN. Nolan writes about visual art for the journal, Number, published by the University of Memphis. Find out more about his projects at www.joenolan.com.
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- by Joe Nolan, Monday, October 1st, 2007
Carla Thomas
One of the gospel truths in the music business is that an artist or a label is only as relevant as their last hit. The success of “Cause I Love You” established Satellite’s working relationship with Atlantic records and solidified the little label’s identity as a purveyor of soul and rhythm and blues. However, when opportunity knocks, the door can swing both ways, and if Satellite turned out to be a flash in the pan instead of a hit factory, the support and access Atlantic offered would have all been in vain.
Carla and Rufus Thomas were anything but lazy, and after barely pausing to enjoy the success of “Cause I Love You,” the duo immediately headed back into the studio to see if lightning could indeed strike twice in the same place. However, while they prayed for another hit to rain down from the heavens, everyone at Satellite began to see the signs of a creative drought, without a drop of inspiration in sight.
After recording several sides that no one felt were hit-worthy, the Thomases put their heads together and found what they had been searching for. There are conflicting accounts of whether Rufus or Carla first suggested “Gee Whiz” as an appropriate follow-up to “Cause I Love You.” One story has father suggesting to daughter that she record the song she had written when she was 16, surprising the 18 year old who thought the song sounded too naive. Another account finds Carla working out some ideas under Estelle Axton’s patient guidance.
“Carla said,’I've got a song,’” recalls Axton. “She said it was called ‘Gee Whiz.’ As soon as Jim and I heard that song we knew it was a hit. It’s funny. When you hear a song, you know if it’s got something in it that will sell.”
- Estelle Axton, from James Dickerson’s Going Back to Memphis
Produced by Chips Moman, the recording of “Gee Whiz” demonstrated the competent, if somewhat haphazard, studio style that was developing at Satellite. Stewart arranged the string parts with Memphis Symphony conductor Noel Gilbert after the scheduled arranger failed to show, and instead of recording in the theatre, the session took place at Hi studios, a decision Stewart later regretted.
“I was a dumb asshole. I didn’t know what I had and I figured maybe they were better equipped.”
- Jim Stewart, from Peter Guralnick’s Sweet Soul Music
After some characteristic miscommunication, Satellite assumed Atlantic had passed on distributing the single, and Stewart went ahead and released it himself.
“And that’s when it was recorded here, in November of 1960, and it was sort of a sleeper, went on past Christmas, past New Year, and all of a sudden it hit like a ton of bricks.”
-Rufus Thomas, from Peter Guralnick’s Sweet Soul Music
Jerry Wexler was furious. The Atlantic head came directly to Memphis saying he had rights to distribute all of Satellite’s products. Stewart and Axton countered saying their deal only involved recordings of the Thomases as a duet. When the smoke cleared, Carla was still signed to Satellite, but ended up on the Atlantic label. The deal was sealed over champagne in the hotel where Wexler was staying; the record mogul and Stewart shuffling the Thomases between the garbage cans at the back entrance as the mixed foursome never would have made it through the front door.
“Gee Whiz” was an unqualified national hit, and the lovely, graceful Carla Thomas was known around the country as a teen queen. In Memphis, however, little changed for the talented beauty. She was a recording artist on a major record label, making records in a former cinema, but if she walked down the street to see the latest movie, she’d have been arrested. It would be six months before Thomas’ former high school would be desegregated, and in her home town, Carla’s immense talent was still obscured by the color of her skin.
Sources:
Peter Guralnick’s Sweet Soul Music, Harper and Row, 1986
James Dickerson’s Goin’ Back to Memphis, Simon and Schuster Macmillan, 1996
Michael Haralambos’ Right on: From Blues to Soul in Black America, Drake Publishers, 1975
Respect Yourself: The Stax Story, documentary film, produced by Tremolo Productions,
Concord Music Group and Thirteen/WNET New York, for PBS’ Great Performances, 2007
Joe Nolan is a poet, musician and freelance journalist in Nashville, TN. Nolan writes about visual art for the journal, Number, published by the University of Memphis. Find out more about his projects at www.joenolan.com.
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