Press clippings of Ella Mae Morse; image courtesy of swingmusic.net
Tonight’s entry is in honor of my friend Liz, who may or may not be studying for her law school finals right now. She’s also the person who brought Ella Mae Morse to my attention, apparently finding her when doing a Google search on who the first person was to use the word “homey.” Apparently it’s this Texan jump blues singer.
Pretty awesome, right? I’ll make sure to remember the late Morse, especially when trying to map out the origins of rock music and the role women and girls played in shaping it. Powerhouse rockabilly gals like Wanda Jackson and Janis Martin are often cited as examples of female contributors to rock’s development, as they should be.
Starting in the late 1950s, Jackson was referred to as the female Elvis; image courtesy of oldrecordclub.wordpress.com
. . . So did Martin; image courtesy of amazon.com
Their influence continues to be felt, perhaps most explicitly in contemporary singers like Imelda May, whose Irish heritage evinces that rockabilly isn’t exclusively a Southern thing. And perhaps even more inspiring is the fact that Jackson and Martin performed well into their autumn years. Jackson continues to perform occasionally and was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame earlier this year. While unfortunately not as well-known as Jackson and forbidden from recording during the 1960s because of an abusive marriage, Martin worked many a stage until her death in 2007.
And there always seems to be an interest in determining rock music’s origins. Oftentimes, at the risk of seeming cynical, these moments of public interest occur, or are manufactured, when a record label decides to release a box set of some obscure artist’s work. While the market logic cannot be overlooked and should not be ignored, I think there’s considerable value in preserving these early recordings, and with it the memories, of obscure, bygone musical artists — particularly when they are female.
Some speculate rock’s origins extend into vaudeville, thus stretching the timeline of what many believe to be a form that began in the 20th century into the late 19th century. Jody Rosen has done a great job paying tribute to women like Sophie Tucker and Eva Tanguay. Both got their start on the vaudeville circuit, cultivated tremendous followings, nurtured rebellious streaks, and were full-fledged divas. They confronted societal expectations of female beauty and sexuality and expanded rock culture’s ethnic origins (Tucker was Jewish, Tanguay was Canadian). And through their unfortunate dabblings in blackface, at one time an accepted performance practice, they remind us that popular music has always had a troubling relationship with race, one that we should always work toward improving.
Sophie Tucker, pro-sex feminist; image courtesy of jwa.org
Tanguay, delighting in her own assets; image courtesy of britannica.com
Perhaps most poignantly, both women were all but forgotten after their time. Due to developing recording technologies and digital archival practices, many of Tucker’s recordings have since been preserved. Tanguay only recorded one song, the anthemic “I Don’t Care.”
I’d like to add Ella Mae Morse into that pantheon as well, as she bridged two musical genres and historical periods, thus further developing the on-going development of popular music’s past and future.
