The first seeds of Elvis Presley’s stardom were sewn by Black musicians, and the runaway success of 1954’s ‘That’s Alright Mama’ was ample proof of Presley’s embrace of music that came before him. Written by Delta blues musician Arthur Crudup in 1946, the song was built on the traditional blues verses laid down by the brilliant Blind Lemon Jefferson.
Presley was drawn to Crudup’s sound but, at 19 years old, had only a rudimentary vision of what his musical style would become. Sat at Sun Studios in 1954, he was at an impasse. Flanked by bassist Bill Black and guitarist Scotty Moore, the three had spent many futile hours trying to record something decent. Pressure was mounting, and not just as their recording session slipped by.
Presley had been there a year before, but in the months that followed him recording his first record, he had no contract to show for it, let alone a fan base. The tension crackled through the booth, urging Presley on to make a last-ditch attempt to salvage the session.
The answer came in the cry of: “Well, that’s all right, mama / That’s all right for you / That’s all right mama, just anyway you do”. Presley abandoned any efforts to make a country song stick, opting to belt out Crudup’s classic on his acoustic guitar. Picking up on the creative spark, Black and Moore added to the frenzy, adding serious blues licks to what was an almost jovial Hail Mary moment.
After a long day struggling to lay down something concrete, Moore said it wasn’t immediately obvious Presley wasn’t joking with his wild cover. “All of a sudden,” he recalled, “Elvis just started singing this song, jumping around and acting the fool, and then Bill picked up his bass, and he started acting the fool, too, and I started playing with them.”
Sun Studios owner Sam Phillips then flew out from behind the control booth to ask what was happening. The honest answer was that all three didn’t know. “Well,” sighed Phillips. “Back up. Try to find a place to start, and do it again.” It’s unclear if Phillips was agitated at the ruckus or if they had taken so long to nail a take.
Phillips had been looking for a “white man who sounds like a black man” for some time, and in waltzed Presley familiar with old blues standards but able to ham them up by adding a tinge of country, doubling the speed, and just wailing where he could. The song, recorded in an impromptu moment, as inspired as it was spontaneous, was the first sample radio listeners got of Presley’s firebrand drawl, and he owed it all to Crudup.
“I said if I ever got to the place where I could feel all old Arthur felt,” Presley once said. “I’d be a music man like nobody ever saw.”
