Wanda Jackson sounded like she could fry eggs on her mons veneris

epub or mobi, [dead links, check comments] with thanks to the original sharer

It was the voodoo of radio and jukeboxes that brought the new music to the ears and feet of post war beboppers. No one knew what to call it, whether it were fish or fowl, but Dewey Phillips understood it instinctively. He talked that down home hipster jive and jumped to radio right out of a record shop on Beale Street. He never learned how to operate a control board, but his show Red Hot and Blue was a smash hit with the public. WHBQ put George Klein in the control room to make sure that Dewey didn't wreck the studio on his night time slot. Every declaration, expletive, hoot and holler Dewey spewed on the air was infused with rollicking tribal power. He played the rocking guitar picking, gospel shouting Sister Rosetta Tharpe right along side of the corn whiskey and amphetamine fuelled pumping piano of Jerry Lee Lewis. The records got into the hands of DJs with the compliments of Sam's brother, Jud Phillips. Due to the promotional efforts of Jud Phillips, the Sun label broke across the Mid South hotter than a fresh fucked fox in a forest fire. - Tav Falco