“I don't play guitar, I wrestle it.”
- Bo Diddley
I'm guilty of not appreciating my rock and roll elders. Of not being properly respectful of the pioneers whose contributions were the building blocks of the beloved art form. There were so many revolutionaries that I don't hold in high enough regard.
Take Buddy Holly as an example. If you asked me to name some major players in rock, I know he wouldn't come immediately to my mind. I'd have to think about it. But, without Buddy Holly's influence we don't have The Beatles (or their name, a nod to Holly's band The Crickets). We don't have Bob Dylan, The Rolling Stones, Elton John or a host of others, at least not in the form they became. And without those folks, what do we have? Pat Boone. All hail Buddy Holly.
Another, even earlier trailblazer was Bo Diddley (1928-2008). He influenced Buddy Holly, you see, as well as Elvis, The Beatles, The Stones, Springsteen the Clash and others. Without Bo Diddley we don't have that signature Bo Diddley beat that was the foundation for much of what rock and roll was built on: bomp-da-bomp-da-bomp-da-bomp-bomp. Once you recognize it, you'll hear it everywhere:
Not Fade Away: Buddy Holly & the Crickets/The Rolling Stones
I Want Candy: The Strangeloves/Bow Wow Wow
Faith: George Michael
Desire: U2
American Girl: Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers
Magic Bus: The Who
Mr. Brownstone: Guns N' Roses
Live It Up: Ted Nugent
Magic Carpet Ride: Steppenwolf
Heart of Glass: Blondie
Who Do Ya Love?: Diddley's song popularized by George Thorogood
In a Chicago high school vo-tech class, a kid who would later become known as Bo Diddley, built himself a rectangle guitar. He dropped out of school at 15 and started playing it on street corners for spare change. Little by little, he built a following. He combined the influence of traditional blues and the frenetic music of his Pentecostal church upbringing to create his distinctive, rumbling sound. He was also a born showman. His song lyrics were radically playful, cocky and full of sexual strut. In performances he sported a big black cowboy hat, loud plaid suits and thick rimmed glasses. He'd jump, shake and prowl the stage, a prototype for future performers like James Brown, Mick Jagger and David Lee Roth. He introduced innovative uses of reverb and distortion and played his guitar in his signature flamboyant style. Where do you think Jimi Hendrix got the idea to play his axe behind his back?
By the early 60s, new artists took his influences in new directions and Bo began to sound like a relic from a bygone age. He became disillusioned with the music business, moved to New Mexico in 1971 and served as deputy sheriff in Los Lunas for two years.
Bo's career never really picked up again. He spent much of his later life embittered that his musical legacy had not been acknowledged and that he'd never received royalties for the sound that he created and others had used. He never got a single dollar from a record company until 1989. “I opened the doors for a lot of people, and they just ran through and left me holding the knob. I never got paid. I tell musicians, ‘Don’t trust nobody but your mama, and even then, look at her real good.'”
I ran across this recently, written shortly after his death.
Bo Diddley Died Today — Hey, Bo Diddley
By Larry Smith
The man who put the Bomp, da-bomp
da-bomp, bomp, bomp into rock-n-roll
has left us. Eiils McDaniel his off-stage name,
but for us 1950s rockers, he was none other
than Bo Diddley — Hey, Bo Diddley ---
rocking his way over bad R&B radio:
sending those bad rockers
to us white kids in steel towns:
Little Richard, Chuck berry,
Ronnie Hawkins, Jerry Lee Lewis.
But king of them all was bad Bo Diddley
pounding the electric axe of his square guitar
like a drum, like a violin, like a rocket ---
giving us what we lacked and didn't know:
an answer, a response: "Before you Accuse me/
Take a Look at Your-self!" an anthem,
a folk, a pulse, a reason to rock.
“Say, Man”…"Tell me, Who do you love?"
In 1959 he filled the CIO hall in Stubenville.
In 1960 Detroit we were turned away from his show
as two too-young white boys,
but they couldn't turn off his music
as we wore it into our our heads on
our radios and stereos.
It got into our walk, our talk,
our grin and bear it looks ---
“I'm a man, M-A-N”
We would feel it in our legs, our pelvis
shaking our ass out on the dance floor ---
“Bring it on home. Bring it too Jerome.”
Come on now, everybody,
“Hey, You pretty thing”…Tell me
Bomp da-bomp, da-bomp-bomp-bomp
“Who do you love?”
Hey, Bo Diddley — Go, Bo Diddley, Go!