Scotty Moore  1931-2016

On July 4, 1954, they started a revolution
Bill Black, Scotty Moore,  blues/hillbilly fusion
A kid comes into the studio, Presley, shy and quiet
What they did oh who could know, would anyone buy it?

Our Sistine Chapel, Sun Records in Memphis
Airwaves crackle with America, restless
At the start of this drama, Scotty and his guitar
And  “It’s Alright Mama” went to the top of the charts.

Teenaged boys were helpless, envious of the screams
They wanted to be like Elvis, they danced alone and dreamed
“But I wanted to be like Scotty”, Keith Richards had no doubt
“His edgy rhythms got me, his leads fuckin’ knocked me out.”

As they took off, Scotty managed and they rode that Mystery Train
The music got lost amongst the damage and Elvis left them in the rain
Scotty made two hundred a week while Elvis made it big
And here is Scotty’s bitter critique: “It was a pretty good gig.”

When Elvis went to Vegas, Scotty put away his axe
It was in the case for ages till Carl Perkins brought him back
He still could play those bluesy licks – his gift unique and endless
That sound from way out in the sticks and from streets of Memphis

He used his guitar like punctuation, brought order, brought form
Without him, no sublimation, no Graceland legend born
No “Heartbreak Hotel”, “Hound Dog”, “Don’t be Cruel”
Without him…oh well, Perry Como would be cool.

Scotty’s obituary

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