As everyone who reads Jammy Toast already knows, Elvis Presley is alive and well and leaves comments on our posts every so often. However, this week sees the fortieth anniversary of his death and so the national press is full of conspiracy theory stories asking did Elvis really leave the building in 1977. Ever since his death there have been dozens of theories about his lack of demise and rumours he simply went into hiding. Our friend Elvis doesn’t want people to know that he is still around but unfortunately the conspiracy theories refuse to die.
Yesterday we told you the story of our Saturday afternoons back in the 1970s. As explained, this was inspired by Rickie Lee Jones’ song; On Saturday Afternoons In 1963. Today we have searched high and low to try and find a video of Rickie singing the song but alas this was not forthcoming. It is a great song and we wanted to share it with you today, so we settled for just posting the song instead. It is taken from Rickie’s debut album entitled Rickie Lee Jones. After arriving in California in the mid-1970s, Rickie started taking song-writing more seriously, and by 1977 had met singer-songwriters Chuck E. Weiss (of Chuck E’s In Love fame) and Tom Waits (Rickie consequently became romantically involved with Waits).
Times are hard for commercially overlooked singers like Rickie Lee Jones, who funded her latest album through a PledgeMusic campaign and by selling off old stage wear. It ends a 10-year writing drought; finally struck by the urge to make new music after three albums of covers and re-recordings, she’s finally found inspiration in her newly adopted home, New Orleans. The city has got under her skin in some subtle ways, however, and it takes some digging around to find them. There are few overt homages – the raucous piano-based R&B of J’ai Connais Pas and the bayou-pop of Haunted are about it. The real fruits of that 10-year break are reserved for songs in which the city’s bohemianism and spirituality mesh with hers – and there are some real delights among them. There’s a sweet paean to her dog (Juliette), a pithy warning against forgetting the lessons of previous relationships (Haunted) and a finale in which wheezing sousaphone and mad giggles stay just the right side of zaniness.