Tuesday, September 02, 2008
45s: Pickin' and grinnin'
It's hard to believe Jerry Reed is dead. Every time I saw or heard the guy he was going 10,000 MPH, but I guess none of us can outrun fate. Not just a country legend, not just the Alabama Wild Man, but a platinum-circle member of the Burt Reynolds posse. We reprint our tribute to a pop culture Renaissance Man, and lest it be forgotten, a hell of a guitar player. The New York Times obit is here.
"When You're Hot You're Hot," by Jerry Reed
Written by Jerry Reed
"When You’re Hot You’re Hot" is the rarest kind of pop hit: a song that means to be funny and succeeds.
Let’s be clear on the latter. The category does not, CAN NOT, include the novelty song, that dark continent of "My Ding-a-ling" and Ray Stevens and harmonizing chipmunks. Few novelty songs are funny on the first listen. Weird Al, I am looking in your direction, you cultural war criminal, you UN-banned substance. None, however, survive the second.
"When You’re Hot You’re Hot" distinguishes itself from the novelty song genre by being funny and original. If you find shiftless mildly criminal rednecks to be funny, that is, and you bet I do, son, you bet I do.
On film or on record Reed sounds like his fast hands and very fast mouth are about eight steps behind what must be a brain operating at a speed that bends light and time. "When You’re Hot You’re Hot" is no exception. I’m not sure you’d call his vocal style singing proper. The enthusiasm behind the talking, though—so exuberant, though non-auctioneers should not attempt to sing along.
As for the lyrics, we can all relate to an American tale of a crap game gone wrong and what happens when you try to bribe the judge. A printed excerpt is pointless—I know because I tried and it doesn't read funny. No, the record must be heard to appreciate the energy, the laughter behind the words, the immortal fade as Jerry cries, "Juuuuuudge, oh Juuuuuudge, Judgey-Poo." Better yet, find a version of the song on video, as Jerry’s huge sideburns lend him extra credibility as the teller of this particular tale.
Reed was on the upswing. His "Amos Moses" blended his super-sharp, funky playing with the lyrics’ southern humor. In fact he played so well it can seem like an incongruous mix if you forget that being funny is serious business. And Reed started doing big business. He cut two acclaimed instrumental albums with country guitar god Chet Atkins and, after "When You’re Hot You’re Hot," hosted a short-lived TV variety show—the sign of 1970s mainstream acceptance. His string of hits ranged from a sort of countrified swamp rock, usually humorous, to more straightforward countrypolitan (no surprise from a protégé of countrypolitan inventor Atkins).
And it didn’t stop there. With the 1970s Redneck Renaissance underway, Reed made movies, or rather, Burt Reynolds vehicles. He was plausibly despicable as the villain in Gator and, of course, he played the Snowman in (and recorded the theme song for) Smokey and the Bandit. How big was he? He appeared as his own animated self on Scooby-Doo.
In a minor postmodern mind fuck, he later appeared as a villain in a Walter Matthau-Robin Williams comedy. Somewhere in there he also recorded a tribute album to Jim Croce. Well, everyone knew he was eccentric.
"When You're Hot You're Hot," by Jerry Reed
Written by Jerry Reed
"When You’re Hot You’re Hot" is the rarest kind of pop hit: a song that means to be funny and succeeds.
Let’s be clear on the latter. The category does not, CAN NOT, include the novelty song, that dark continent of "My Ding-a-ling" and Ray Stevens and harmonizing chipmunks. Few novelty songs are funny on the first listen. Weird Al, I am looking in your direction, you cultural war criminal, you UN-banned substance. None, however, survive the second.
"When You’re Hot You’re Hot" distinguishes itself from the novelty song genre by being funny and original. If you find shiftless mildly criminal rednecks to be funny, that is, and you bet I do, son, you bet I do.
On film or on record Reed sounds like his fast hands and very fast mouth are about eight steps behind what must be a brain operating at a speed that bends light and time. "When You’re Hot You’re Hot" is no exception. I’m not sure you’d call his vocal style singing proper. The enthusiasm behind the talking, though—so exuberant, though non-auctioneers should not attempt to sing along.
As for the lyrics, we can all relate to an American tale of a crap game gone wrong and what happens when you try to bribe the judge. A printed excerpt is pointless—I know because I tried and it doesn't read funny. No, the record must be heard to appreciate the energy, the laughter behind the words, the immortal fade as Jerry cries, "Juuuuuudge, oh Juuuuuudge, Judgey-Poo." Better yet, find a version of the song on video, as Jerry’s huge sideburns lend him extra credibility as the teller of this particular tale.
[Note: audio only here on YouTube. Be aware of bizarre accompanying images that include casino night at a nudist camp. Not as good as you'd hope.]
Those only aware of Reed as Burt Reynolds’ sidekick beware. The man threatened to become a pop culture phenomenon, and the huge success of "When You’re Hot You’re Hot" on both the pop and country charts lit the fuse. Mind you, Reed didn’t fall into his situation. Ten years of dues as a top session guy and plenty of balls saw the Alabama Wild Man through, albeit as something of a late bloomer—his first hit came around age twenty-eight.
Reed is among the few men to face down Elvis’s entourage in the studio. In the mid-Sixties the King recorded Reed’s "Guitar Man," damn near the first good song Presley had recorded since leaving the Army. The entourage then "suggested" to Jerry that he give up a piece of the profits. Peter Guralnick
I said, ‘I know how important it is to have an Elvis Presley cut. I mean, I’m thrilled to death. And we can work out a split on this record—because I do appreciate the importance of it, and what it means. But,’ I said, ‘you are not going to get any of the copyright on this damn song…. I’ll put it to you this way. You don’t need the money, and Elvis don’t need the money, and I’m making more money than I can spend right now—so why don’t we just forget we ever recorded this damn song?Reed kept his cut. Song released, units moved. Sensing possible redemption, or at least escape from the penal colony of soundtrack mediocrity, Elvis then recorded Reed’s excellent "U.S. Male" and in a very Reed-like interpretation, giving him the second good song he had recorded since leaving the Army.
Reed was on the upswing. His "Amos Moses" blended his super-sharp, funky playing with the lyrics’ southern humor. In fact he played so well it can seem like an incongruous mix if you forget that being funny is serious business. And Reed started doing big business. He cut two acclaimed instrumental albums with country guitar god Chet Atkins and, after "When You’re Hot You’re Hot," hosted a short-lived TV variety show—the sign of 1970s mainstream acceptance. His string of hits ranged from a sort of countrified swamp rock, usually humorous, to more straightforward countrypolitan (no surprise from a protégé of countrypolitan inventor Atkins).
And it didn’t stop there. With the 1970s Redneck Renaissance underway, Reed made movies, or rather, Burt Reynolds vehicles. He was plausibly despicable as the villain in Gator and, of course, he played the Snowman in (and recorded the theme song for) Smokey and the Bandit. How big was he? He appeared as his own animated self on Scooby-Doo.
In a minor postmodern mind fuck, he later appeared as a villain in a Walter Matthau-Robin Williams comedy. Somewhere in there he also recorded a tribute album to Jim Croce. Well, everyone knew he was eccentric.
// posted by KC45s @ 10:00 PM 
What does John McCain smell like this week?
Internal organs of disemboweled advisor who suggested Sarah Palin
Gunpowder from self-inflicted wound
Charred mooseburger
What the Fuck Have I Done? by Ralph Lauren
Liebermusk
Wiped boots of theocrats
Spattered amniotic fluid
Rancid barbeque
Corinthian leather inside Halliburton’s experimental time machine
Bush’s feces from eight years ago
Johnny Walker Black, if he has any sense at all
Gunpowder from self-inflicted wound
Charred mooseburger
What the Fuck Have I Done? by Ralph Lauren
Liebermusk
Wiped boots of theocrats
Spattered amniotic fluid
Rancid barbeque
Corinthian leather inside Halliburton’s experimental time machine
Bush’s feces from eight years ago
Johnny Walker Black, if he has any sense at all
// posted by KC45s @ 6:00 AM
