Chuck Berry – The Complete ’50s Chess Recordings (4-disc set)

Ernest Tubb’s son Justin was a 20-year-old country singer in 1955, and unimpressed by the nascent sounds of rock ‘n’ roll. Even so, as a songwriter he had an ear for a great lyric no matter the style. Hearing one current rock song that seemed perfect, he brought it to his father. It took time to work it into his own distinctive style, but in late 1955 and early 1956, Ernest Tubb, the “Texas Troubadour” and pillar of the honky-tonk style, had a top-10 country single with Chuck Berry’s “Thirty Days”, the second hit cover of a Berry song in another genre (Marty Robbins got there first).

Berry’s work has been assembled on LP and CD collections for decades, and on a long-ago MCA CD box set. Some compilations are well done, others woefully scattershot. Finally, Hip-O Select has produced a limited edition four-disc, 103-song package comprehensively surveying Berry’s first four years (1955-59) at Chess Records, beginning in 1955 with “Maybelline” and ending with his July 1959 session with the vocal group the Ecuadors. It’s arranged chronologically — rarities abound in the form of alternate takes, false starts, unreleased tunes and a couple of live recordings — and an embarrassment of riches, providing insights into Berry’s creativity and breadth of influences, and revealing his range and depth as both lyricist and instrumentalist.

The signature tunes — “Maybelline”, “Roll Over Beethoven”, “Brown Eyed Handsome Man”, “Too Much Monkey Business” and “Rock And Roll Music” — still feel fresh and invigorating, enhanced by superb remastering. The collection also ratifies the well-known and pivotal role played by Johnnie Johnson, whose masterful boogie-woogie piano made him a major component of Berry’s sound, his swirling flurries of notes a free-floating foil to Berry’s solid, relentless rhythm.

In several cases, demos and alternate takes allow a fly-on-the-wall glimpse into Berry’s in-studio creative process as he refines “Sweet Little Sixteen”, “Reelin’ And Rockin'”, “Johnny B. Goode” and “Almost Grown”. Aware of Berry’s maturity (he turned 29 in 1955), Chess occasionally sped up the tapes while mastering his singles, altering them to make him sound younger. Here, one hears both the doctored versions and the original untouched masters side by side. Other alternates are spirited despite obvious tuning problems or, in one case, a brief burst of feedback.

The songs themselves remain transcendent. Some are raw and elemental, others rocking hard but awash in stylish sophistication and wit, echoing Berry’s lifelong love of both poetry (his memory for verse is remarkable) and comedy. While the lyrics of Carl Perkins mainly went for the gut, Berry could do that and amuse, satirize, and make one think, as he did while spoofing life’s everyday travails on “Too Much Monkey Business”.

Berry shared with Johnny Mercer and Hoagy Carmichael a flair for flowing, conversational lyrics. Songs such as “School Days”, that timeless narrative about the utter banality of secondary education, and “No Money Down”, spoofing Americans’ ongoing desire for flashy cars, ring as true today as in 1955. Only the gadgetry has changed.

The collection illuminates Berry’s diverse musical roots, proving beyond question that, like Bill Monroe or Bob Wills, he was a master synthesizer with influences and inspirations far more complex than many realize.

“Everything I did came from somewhere else,” he told Robbie Robertson in a surprisingly candid interview included on the deluxe DVD edition of Taylor Hackford’s 1986 Berry documentary Hail! Hail! Rock And Roll. Obviously he was conversant with both blues and country; “Maybelline”, after all, reworked the hillbilly and western swing tune “Ida Red”. At his 1955 Chess Records audition, his goal was clearly a blues career like his hero Muddy Waters; his skills in that form were apparent on “Low Feeling” and “You’ve Changed”.

That’s not the end of it. A rough, heartfelt cover of Frankie Laine’s 1940s pop hit “That’s My Desire” takes Berry well into lounge territory. His reach even extended to folk tunes. In his autobiography, Berry explained that his deeply religious father inspired “Down Bound Train”, a surrealistic tale of a nightmare rail trip to Hell. It’s actually his take on the traditional folk song “Hell Bound Train”. The Latin-flavored rocker “Broken Arrow” adds bits of “Old McDonald”.

Blues and country are rock’s main ingredients, but it’s easy to ignore the impact of the big-band era of 1935-45. In Berry’s case, it can’t be overlooked. He told Robertson how Nat King Cole’s flawless diction inspired the striking vocal clarity that remains a constant on his records. His affinity for Kansas City swing comes forth in a scintillating outtake of Count Basie’s “One O’Clock Jump”. Basie’s “Lester Leaps In” undeniably inspired Berry’s “Rockin’ At The Philharmonic”. “Blues For Hawaiians”, a pedal steel workout, has roots in “Floyd’s Guitar Blues”, a 1939 steel instrumental Floyd Smith recorded with another legendary K.C. big band, Andy Kirk’s Clouds Of Joy. Two tracks from a 1956 Alan Freed stage show even feature him performing “Maybelline” (with noticeably different lyrics) and “Roll Over Beethoven” with Basie band members.

Guitarists, of course, owe Berry an immeasurable debt since his chugging rhythms (inspired by boogie-woogie piano) and double-stop licks remain keystones of the genre. Keith Richards couldn’t have played a lick without Berry, just as the Rolling Stones have never quit dipping into or invoking his work. Jeff Beck’s Yardbirds-era favorite “Jeff’s Boogie”, created from Berry’s “Guitar Boogie”, is part of that same continuum. Berry, after all, grabbed ideas from the guitar heroes of his day, among them T-Bone Walker (whose style dominates Berry’s instrumental “Ingo”), Charlie Christian, and Louis Jordan sideman Carl Hogan, whose playing had a profound influence on Berry.

It’s a given that Chuck Berry merits his place in the same heady company with Hank Williams, Carmichael, Mercer, Irving Berlin, the Gershwins, Smokey Robinson, Bob Dylan, Cindy Walker, and Lennon/McCartney. The transcendent music of rock’s first great poet still slices through time like a Ginsu through rice pudding, its ability to amuse and energize undiminished. Hopefully, a Volume 2 will materialize and explain the rest.