Leweh, Leweh

  I've always been a fan of two things: history and punk.  I mean, there're more than two things that occupy my life which I enjoy, but I find my mind wandering towards one or the other.  Anyway, here's where I believe the origins of punk music to reside:

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  A butterfly flaps its wings, and a hurricane is stirred. But where did things go from bad to worse? Was it the butterfly you blamed? Or his mother for giving birth? You can reach as far back as you'd like to say the influence for an idea started elsewhere, and in this case, I will tell you how punk music started in a doo-wop song from 1957.

  A bass opens the harmony with Richard Berry humming the tune like it's the first one he's ever known and come to love. His voice croons over the lyrics and you can hear him smile in an almost sultry way as he slips the words “Louie Louie” from between his lips and past his perfectly-manicured mustache. By the end of the song, you've memorized the chorus and are ready to hum along.

  Now let me make one thing clear: back in those days you didn't care about who made the song first, just who played it best. When you released a record, you had a few of your own songs, but nobody cared if you could write, just let me hear you play the ones I love. The best way to sell a record was to play a good song better. But so far Berry's version was the only one around. Popular as it was, it got played at every sock-hop and on every station. It was a way to make the bars in town a cheerier place as well. So enter “Rockin'” Robin Roberts.

  Roberts may have misunderstood what the song intended, tattling for the girl named “Louie” between the cigarette smoke and the smell of piss and beer became a song rattling for another round from a bartender named “Lou”. Roberts recorded his version just one year later in '58 with The Wailers, transforming a serenade into a plead for one more round. True to the name of the band, Roberts took the buttery voice of Richard Berry and high-tuned it to the wailing voice of Jack Daniels. The bass of the original song matched and complimented the bass of Berry's voice. The scratching of the saxophone exacerbated the cry of Rockin' Roberts. Amid the rumble of instruments, Roberts declares “Let's give it to 'em right now!”.

  Five years pass, and the rain makes a suicide dive on anyone caught in the fray. Jack Ely and a gang of others from a local high school in Portland, Oregon make their way into the recording studio to escape the weather and record their first single. Forming The Kingsmen, they never figured they'd play rock music, but a 90-minute session of “Louie Louie” they performed the night before in a club makes them feel eager and prepared, if not a little braggy. Pooling their money, they have enough for one take. They tell the producer they want to have a practice round before the real thing. Whether he didn't hear or didn't care is anyone's guess. Where there was once a bass or a saxophone paving the opening beat to form the song, Jack Ely takes a breath, the piano strikes the chords, and the drum slaps the beat together. The Kingsmen believe they're warming-up, getting sloppy in their style and shaking sleep from their voices, but the producer has hit record and no one notices a thing. Someone has convinced Ely to use a hanging microphone to give the song a live feel. But being a teenager and not quite tall enough to fully utilize the height of the microphone, he leans back and yells over the instruments to hear himself sing. His braces sit funny and his words become slurred, almost an ode to Roberts' version. The drums continue to slam until a drumstick is dropped around the 57-second mark, where the drummer yells a “FUCK” in frustration. Pulling influence from the Roberts version of “Louie Louie”, Ely screams in annoyance “Let's give it to 'em RIGHT NOW!” and the guitarist plucks from his guitar strings like he's trying to torture the poor thing. The final slam on the drum is enough to almost break the snare.

  With their anger belted from their systems, The Kingsmen discuss how to fine-tune the “real” version they'll record. The producer tells them they've already played the final cut. They can pay for another take or cut their losses. April 6^th, 1963 is the day The Kingsmen were broke enough the record punk history.

  Paul Revere and The Raiders record their own version of the song two weeks after The Kingsmen, in the same studio, giving back to the 50's vibe of Roberts' version. There's more yelling, better guitar plucking from an already seasoned musician, and more emphasis on the brass instruments. Being already a well-established band, Paul Revere and The Raiders slowly climb their version of “Louie Louie” behind The Kingsmen before dropping suddenly. When investigating the causes, the band finds that while they sold well locally, the band's producer isn't a fan of hard rock music and shuts the single down.

  The Kingsmen's selling to the local radio stations comes easy, but no one expects the number of sales it garners. The popularity of it stems mostly from a playing style that no one has heard before: sloppy, angry, and compulsive. The unclean style gains attention from those of an older generation as well, condemning the song for an almost certain abrasive nature. The governor of Indiana tries banning the song from club and radio play, to some success. The anger from certain crowds also draws the attention of the FBI, who spearhead a 31-month-long investigation into The Kingsmen's version of the song for subliminal messages of Anarchistic or Communist nature. The case is finally closed when the drummer lies about the outburst at the 57-second mark being an “Argh” rather than anything profane. The original performers split ways shortly after, but the song remains a chart-topper for years.

  The influence of The Kingsmen's style slithers into the minds of an (as of yet) unheard of band. The Sonics are from the Northwest as well, and “Louie Louie” becomes an anthem for disgruntled musicians. The Sonics release their first record, with covers of popular sock-hop anthems, albeit in a grungy sound much like that from The Kingsmen. While the original songs most bands made were love ballads, The Sonics' were a bit darker in nature.

  “Psycho” is the tale of a man driven mad by a shit relationship. “Boss Hoss” is about driving a nice car. “Strychnine” is about being addicted to drinking poison. And their most famous song, “The Witch”, about being in love with an evil woman. The Sonics' sound and subject matter made its way around the country, influencing a much heavier style for generations. One of their most popular covers continues to be “Louie Louie”.

  Over 1,500 versions of the song have been recorded. April 2^nd has been declared “Louie Louie Day” in Oregon.

   There was once a Louie Louie Parade in Philadelphia, but it was cancelled in '89 in its first year due to rowdiness from the crowd.