The Rise of Answer Songs in Early Rock and Roll
In the vibrant and evolving landscape of 1950s music, “answer songs” were a common phenomenon. Imagine a musical conversation where one hit track prompts a response, often playing on the same themes and melodies. We touched upon this briefly when discussing “Hound Dog” and “Bear Cat,” but answer songs were a defining characteristic of the period, responsible for some incredibly popular tunes. In blues music, for example, Muddy Waters’ “Mannish Boy” playfully answers Bo Diddley’s “I’m A Man,” creating a humorous generational dialogue. “I’m A Man” itself was a response to Waters’ earlier hit, “Hoochie Coochie Man,” showcasing a dynamic interplay within the genre of early rock music songs and blues.
This musical back-and-forth was generally accepted. It was akin to the old blues tradition of shared lyrical phrases – artists would create an answer song to capitalize on the popularity of a hit, hoping to ride its wave of success. Since it was a widespread practice, there was little complaint, especially as answer songs rarely overshadowed the originals in terms of popularity. While “Bear Cat” achieved significant chart success, “Hound Dog” soared to number one, demonstrating the typical hierarchy.
However, there was one notable instance where an answer song transcended its original inspiration, becoming so monumental that it not only launched the career of a blues legend but also inspired a film and even comedic parodies across the Atlantic. This song was “The Wallflower,” and its story begins, as many stories of early rock music songs do, with the influential figure of Johnny Otis.
Johnny Otis and the Spark for “Work With Me Annie”
In 1953, Johnny Otis, a bandleader and talent scout with an ear for emerging sounds, discovered a Detroit-based group called the Royals. They had recently rebranded from the Four Falcons to avoid confusion with another Detroit band, the Falcons—a common issue in an era where bird-themed names were a vocal group trend. Shortly after Otis’s discovery, the Royals’ lead singer was drafted. Sonny Woods, a band member, suggested Hank Ballard, a colleague from the Ford assembly line, as a replacement. Initially, Charles Sutton took the lead vocal role, with Ballard in the backing vocals, but Ballard’s influence gradually grew, shaping the band’s distinctive sound and contributing significantly to their unique style of rock music songs.
Ballard’s musical influences were notably different from his contemporaries. While many R&B singers aspired to sound like Clyde McPhatter or Wynonie Harris, Ballard admired Gene Autry, a country and western singer who profoundly influenced figures like Bill Haley and Les Paul. Despite this country influence, Ballard developed a vocal style that was uniquely his own. Later singers like Jackie Wilson and Chubby Checker would emulate Ballard’s sound, but in the early days of rock music songs, his style was groundbreaking.
With Ballard’s growing prominence, the band found its unique identity—a crucial element for standing out in the burgeoning rock music scene. Otis became their manager and secured them a contract with King Records, a pivotal label in the history of early rock and roll. Their initial singles were primarily doo-wop ballads, many penned by Otis and featuring Sutton on lead vocals. These early tracks were pleasant but lacked a distinctive edge, blending in with numerous vocal groups of the time.
[Excerpt The Royals “Every Beat of My Heart”]
This track, “Every Beat of My Heart,” written by Otis, later became a hit for Gladys Knight and the Pips, but in its original form, it lacked a certain spark. However, the band’s sound began to transform as Hank Ballard took over as the primary lead vocalist. Around this time, they also changed their name to The Midnighters, once again due to another band with a similar name. It was as The Midnighters that they achieved their breakthrough, starting with the hit “Get It.”
[Excerpt of The Midnighters, “Get It”]
“Get It” marked the beginning of a series of hits for The Midnighters, but it was their second hit that truly paved the way for “The Wallflower” and its place in rock music songs history. Hank Ballard, inspired by Billy Ward and his Dominoes’ hit “Sixty Minute Man,” a song considered risqué for its time, aimed to create something similarly bold.
While “Get It” was mildly suggestive, Ballard sought to push further, closer to the edginess of “Sixty Minute Man.” He conceived a song initially titled “Sock It To Me, Mary.” Ralph Bass, their producer, felt the original title was too explicit for radio airplay. Consequently, the group reworked the song in the studio, drawing inspiration for the new title from the name of the engineer’s wife, Annie. The result was “Work With Me Annie.”
[Excerpt of The Midnighters, “Work With Me Annie”]
By today’s standards, “Work With Me Annie” might seem mildly suggestive, but in 1954, it was considered borderline scandalous. Lyrics like “Give me all my meat?” were deemed provocative and ambiguous, leading to radio bans and moral outrage. Ironically, this controversy fueled its popularity, driving it to number one on the R&B chart. Being banned from the radio has often been a surefire way to guarantee a hit record, especially in the realm of early rock music songs. The song’s infectious catchiness also played a crucial role in its widespread appeal.
The Midnighters followed up with “Sexy Ways,” which was even more direct in its suggestive content and further solidified their reputation for pushing boundaries within rock music songs.
[Excerpt of The Midnighters, “Sexy Ways”]
“Sexy Ways” also climbed the charts. However, the immense success of “Work With Me Annie” led to direct sequels: “Annie Had A Baby” and “Annie’s Aunt Fanny.”
Numerous artists joined the trend of creating answer songs to “Work With Me Annie.” Even years later, in 1958, Buddy Holly alluded to the Annie saga with the line “Annie’s been working on the midnight shift.” But our focus is on one particular answer song, sung from Annie’s perspective, which would become a pivotal moment in the history of rock music songs and launch a legendary career.
Etta James Emerges with “The Wallflower (Roll With Me Henry)”
Jamesetta Hawkins, later known as Etta James, had a challenging upbringing, marked by experiences in foster homes and instances of abuse. Despite these hardships, she began singing at a young age and received formal musical training. Tragically, this training also involved abuse, with a teacher physically punishing her for not singing from her diaphragm. However, Etta James credited this rigorous training with developing her powerful voice, a hallmark of her contribution to rock music songs and blues.
Jamesetta was another significant discovery of Johnny Otis. Initially hesitant to sign another female singer, Otis was so impressed by her talent that he agreed to work with her, provided she obtained parental consent, as she was only sixteen. There was a complication: Jamesetta didn’t know her father, and her mother was incarcerated. Resourcefully, she faked a phone call, pretending to call her mother while discreetly keeping her finger on the phone button to prevent an actual call. She later provided Otis with a forged letter, demonstrating her determination to pursue her musical dreams in the world of rock music songs.
Meanwhile, Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller, Otis’s former associates, were producing records with the Robins. The Robins had experienced several lineup changes and recorded for various small labels. Some members had brushes with the law. They eventually signed with Spark Records, the label Leiber and Stoller had established with Lester Sill.
Their breakthrough hit was “Riot in Cell Block Number Nine.” Like many Leiber and Stoller songs, it blended comedic storytelling—this time about a prison riot, a theme reminiscent of their later hit “Jailhouse Rock”—with a classic blues melody, a combination that was increasingly shaping the sound of early rock music songs.
[Excerpt “Riot in Cell Block Number Nine” by the Robins]
“Riot in Cell Block Number Nine” notably incorporated the stop-time riff popularized by Willie Dixon for Muddy Waters. This riff, instantly recognizable in blues and rock music songs, is famously used in Waters’ “Mannish Boy.”
[Excerpt, Muddy Waters, “Mannish Boy”]
The riff’s origin can be traced back (as far as historical records indicate) to Waters’ “Hoochie Coochie Man,” which entered the R&B charts in March 1954.
[Excerpt, Muddy Waters, “Hoochie Coochie Man”]
The Robins’ record followed in May 1954, suggesting Leiber and Stoller likely drew immediate inspiration from “Hoochie Coochie Man” to create “Riot in Cell Block Number Nine,” showcasing the rapid musical exchanges within the early rock music songs scene.
However, Leiber and Stoller faced a challenge: Bobby Nunn, the Robins’ bass singer, couldn’t deliver the menacing vocal tone the song required. While Nunn was excellent in comedic roles with Little Esther, the gritty growl needed for “Riot” was beyond his vocal style—or so the story often goes.
Leiber and Stoller recounted that Nunn simply couldn’t achieve the necessary menacing tone. Other members of the Robins later claimed that Nunn refused to sing lead, finding the lyrics offensive. Terrell Leonard stated, “We didn’t understand our heritage. These two white songwriters knew our culture better than we did. Bobby wouldn’t do it.”
Regardless of the exact reasons, Leiber and Stoller turned to Richard Berry. Berry was a singer with the doo-wop group The Flairs, who recorded for Modern and RPM records. Notably, they had released “She Wants to Rock,” produced by Leiber and Stoller.
[excerpt: The Flairs, “She Wants to Rock”]
“She Wants to Rock,” penned by Berry, clearly resonated with Leiber and Stoller’s musical style. Recognizing his vocal talent and suitability, they enlisted Berry to sing the lead part for “Riot in Cell Block #9.” The song became a massive hit, though Berry received little financial reward, a recurring pattern in his career. Richard Berry, despite being a pivotal figure in early rock and roll, often went uncredited or underpaid for his contributions to rock music songs.
“Riot in Cell Block #9” established Berry’s reputation as a reliable vocalist capable of delivering excellent performances on short notice. This reputation led Johnny Otis to call on Berry again when it was time to record an answer song to “Work With Me Annie.” Otis envisioned a saucy, playful dialogue between a male and female singer, perfectly suited for this new song.
The track Otis, Hawkins, and Berry created was a direct response to “Work With Me Annie,” even more explicit in its sexual innuendo.
[excerpt Etta James: “The Wallflower (Roll With Me Henry)”]
The record was titled “The Wallflower,” but widely known as “Roll With Me Henry.” The songwriting credit went to Jamesetta, now renamed Etta James by Johnny Otis—a simple reversal of her first name. With “The Wallflower,” Etta James was launched on her path to stardom, marking a significant moment in the history of female artists in rock music songs.
While credited to Hank Ballard, Etta James, and Johnny Otis, Richard Berry maintained that he deserved a writing credit, claiming his vocal responses were largely improvised. This is plausible, given Berry’s songwriting talent and the spontaneous nature of studio sessions at the time. Songwriting credits in this era were often inconsistently applied, especially for contributions made during recording sessions, highlighting the sometimes-unjust practices in the early rock music songs industry.
“The Wallflower” reached number one on the R&B charts, solidifying its place among popular rock music songs. However, it wasn’t destined to be the most commercially successful version of the song. In a recurring pattern of the time, a white artist covered a black artist’s record and achieved greater mainstream success, often diluting the original’s impact in the process.
Georgia Gibbs’ “Dance With Me Henry” and the Whitewashing of Rock Music Songs
Georgia Gibbs’ version of “The Wallflower” is a prime example of a creatively bankrupt cover. Unlike Elvis Presley’s or Jerry Lee Lewis’s covers, which often brought a fresh perspective to rock music songs, Gibbs’ rendition is more akin to the Crew Cuts—a note-for-note imitation that completely misses the point of the original. Gibbs even changed the lyrics from “Roll With Me Henry” to the far less suggestive “Dance With Me Henry,” stripping away the song’s original playful boldness.
[excerpt Georgia Gibbs “Dance With Me Henry”]
Despite its artistic shortcomings, Gibbs’ version had two key advantages for radio stations in the racially segregated and prudish 1950s. First, Gibbs was white. Second, her version was significantly less sexually explicit than Etta James’s. While “The Wallflower” might seem tame by today’s standards, any hint of sexuality, especially from a black woman, was considered taboo for mainstream radio at the time. This highlights the racial and social barriers that black artists faced in gaining mainstream recognition for their contributions to rock music songs.
This was not an isolated incident. Georgia Gibbs also covered LaVern Baker’s “Tweedle Dee,” outselling Baker’s original with a similarly sanitized and less soulful version. However, in the case of “The Wallflower,” Etta James at least received some songwriting royalties, unlike Lavern Baker, who didn’t write her own record.
These instances of white artists profiting from watered-down covers of black artists’ rock music songs contributed to the perception that early white rock and roll stars merely ripped off black musicians. While some white artists did create meaningful interpretations and engaged in a musical dialogue across racial lines—artists like Elvis Presley and Jerry Lee Lewis, who, arguably, built upon the foundations laid by black musicians like Arthur Crudup and Big Maybelle—the industry was also rife with exploitative covers like Gibbs’. These covers often diluted the artistic and cultural significance of the original rock music songs.
The debate about whether Elvis Presley or Arthur Crudup recorded the definitive version of “That’s All Right, Mama,” or whether Jerry Lee Lewis improved on Big Maybelle’s “Whole Lotta Shakin’,” is valid and nuanced. These examples represent a complex musical conversation, albeit one within a racially skewed power dynamic. However, covers like Georgia Gibbs’ “Dance With Me Henry” were less about musical dialogue and more about commercial exploitation, capitalizing on the success of black artists while minimizing their artistic contribution to rock music songs.
Listening to both versions of “Roll With Me Henry” and “Dance With Me Henry” leaves little doubt as to which version is by a genuinely important artist and which is a pale imitation, benefiting solely from the artist’s race and the sanitization of the original rock music song.
Etta James, recognizing the commercial success of the sanitized version, later re-recorded the track with the “Dance With Me Henry” lyrics herself.
[excerpt: Etta James “Dance With Me Henry”]
If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em, it seems. “Dance With Me Henry” became a massive hit, demonstrating the commercial power of even diluted versions of rock music songs. Its popularity spawned its own answer songs, including The Midnighters’ humorous response, “Henry’s Got Flat Feet, Can’t Dance No More,” a direct jab at Gibbs’ version and a continuation of the playful answer song trend within rock music songs.
[excerpt “Henry’s Got Flat Feet”, The Midnighters]
“Dance With Me Henry” permeated popular culture, becoming so well-known that Abbott and Costello’s final film was named after it, hoping to capitalize on the song’s widespread appeal. It even inspired comedy beyond music.
The song’s reach extended across the Atlantic to the UK, where, though rock and roll was just beginning to take hold, American hits like “Dance With Me Henry” were popular. The song caught the attention of the Goons, a highly influential British comedy group.
The Goon Show, featuring Spike Milligan, Peter Sellers, and Harry Secombe, was a defining comedic force of the 1950s and beyond, influencing generations of British artists. Their work with young producer George Martin, who later became famous for his work with the Beatles, led to comedic musical experiments.
In 1955, the Goons recorded a comedic version of “Unchained Melody,” another major hit of the year.
[excerpt “Unchained Melody” by the Goons]
This comedic take on “Unchained Melody,” along with its B-side, remained unreleased for over thirty years due to publishing rights issues. The B-side was a Goons’ rendition of “Dance With Me Henry.”
[excerpt, Peter Sellers and Spike Milligan “Dance With Me Henry”]
This comedic version of “Dance With Me Henry” highlights the song’s widespread cultural impact, even if it further distanced itself from the original spirit of Etta James’s “The Wallflower” and its significance in the world of rock music songs. In the context of the British skiffle craze, the Goons’ version might have even seemed relatively mainstream, showcasing the diverse interpretations and influences at play in the evolving landscape of rock music songs.
Back in the US, Richard Berry continued his career as a working musician. He famously wrote “Louie Louie” on a napkin between sets at a gig but didn’t record it for two years, initially underestimating its potential. He continued recording more commercially oriented material like “Yama Yama Pretty Mama.”
[Excerpt: Richard Berry “Yama Yama Pretty Mama”]
Richard Berry’s story and “Louie Louie” will become more prominent in our exploration of rock music songs in future episodes.
Meanwhile, Etta James continued to build her career after “The Wallflower.” She released a follow-up, “Hey Henry,” but it didn’t achieve the same success, demonstrating the challenge of replicating a breakthrough hit in the competitive world of rock music songs.
[excerpt: Etta James, “Hey Henry”]
However, her third single, “Good Rockin’ Daddy,” became a top ten R&B hit, proving her staying power and solidifying her place among prominent female artists in rock music songs.
After this early success, there was a five-year gap before her next major hit. In 1960, after signing with Chess Records, she released successful duets with Harvey Fuqua, formerly of the Moonglows.
[excerpt: Etta James and Harvey Fuqua, “Spoonful”]
These duets marked the beginning of an incredible run of hits for Etta James on the R&B charts, featuring some of the greatest recordings in the genre. While her later work increasingly blurred the lines between blues, jazz, and rock, moving somewhat away from the pure rock and roll style of her early recordings with Johnny Otis, Etta James cemented her legacy as one of the most powerful and influential blues and R&B singers of her generation, continuing to record until shortly before her death in 2011, just three days after Johnny Otis, the man who had launched her career decades earlier.
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