Pop Culture

Johnnie, He's Good

The Canberra Times, 29 March 2001
Underrated. Even more than "rollicking" and "earthy", or "leading" and "influential", that's the word that rock 'n' roll aficionados are most inclined to use when describing Jonnie Johnson's contribution to the music. Those who know about him, of course. Despite a name that's almost as catchy as his songs, not everyone knows about Johnson. You might say he's underrated.

Not that he isn't respected, mind you. Last week - along with such names as Paul Simon, Queen and Aerosmith - he was inducted into the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame. In the past few months, he has been busier than many 76-year-olds, playing at the Royal Albert Hall, at both of President Clinton's inaugurations and at the Superbowl, American football's answer to the AFL Final (except much, much bigger). He is even the subject of a tribute album, to be released this year by Atlantic Records, on which his songs will be performing by artists the calibre of Paul McCartney, Bruce Springsteen and the Rolling Stones.

But if you heard about him in the news recently, it was probably for another reason. In November, he sued his one-time musical partner, Chuck Berry, saying that he never received credit or royalties for over 50 songs that they composed together, including a number of standards: "Sweet Little Sixteen", "No Particular Place to Go", "Rock and Roll Music". (Though they co-wrote the music, Berry wrote the lyrics alone.) Johnson played the exhilarated piano solos on these tracks, which alone should grant him a place in history. But according to the suit, he deserves credit for more than just that. Instead, Berry registered the copyright in his name alone, and has refused to recognise Johnson for his role as a composer.

Right now, Johnson would rather not talk about this, and won't even say anything against Berry. "The attorneys are handling that," he says calmly, in a deep, rough-as-velvet voice that could only belong to a blues musician. "When we were starting out, they were only using one person's name on a record. That was the person doing all the vocals, who was the leader of the group. They didn't put the sideman's name or anything like that on the record, so that's why I never was mentioned. I wasn't disappointed about it, because it wasn't just happening to me. It was happening to just about everyone in the music business."

He has never been one for bitterness. Though we often hear that rock music was the music of teen rebellion and anguish, Berry and Johnson always saw it differently. "I just love music," says Johnson. "Anything we could play that the public would listen to was fine with me." So "Roll Over Beethoven" was never exactly "Anarchy in the UK", and "Sweet Little Sixteen" never had the same attitude as "Smells Like Teen Spirit". Strangely, their songs were just as controversial in their time, as the "vulgar" new music offended parents and religious leaders around the world.

A self-taught pianist, Johnson was tinkling the ivories with his own band, the Sir John Trio, who performed blues standards for a few years. (His musical heroes included Art Tatum, Bud Powell, Earl Hines and the immortal Count Basie.) Berry joined the band as a guitarist in 1953, and before long they were making history. "I had no idea that we were breaking new ground at the time," he says, "but the Beatles, the Rolling Stones and quite a few others - all of them say that we were the ones who made the change. I feel very proud of that."

At the same time, a share in the royalties would be nice. Hundreds of artists have recorded their compositions, including the Beatles and the Stones (whose first single, "Come On", was actually one of the less famous Berry-Johnson tunes). But while Berry became notorious for his extravagance, including reports that he was literally bathing in piles of cash, Johnson vanished into obscurity. In 1986, the Stones' guitarist Keith Richards tracked him down to his home town of St. Louis, Missouri, where he was driving a bus for the elderly.

However he feels nowadays, Berry was not so dismissive of Johnson at their peak, writing the song "Johnny B. Goode" (on his own) as a tribute. Ironic, because - as almost everyone knows - this is not about a pianist, but someone who "could play the guitar just like a-ringing the bell". "I think he was talking about the both of us in that one song," says Johnson. Perhaps fittingly, Berry was singing about two talents, but disguising them as one.

Since Richards rediscovered him, Johnson has been reminding people of his talents, performing with younger artists ranging from Eric Clapton to Bonnie Raitt. Though he has new material, his style remains basically the same, even as rock music has changed beyond recognition.

Nothing against the latest musical trends. "I don't dig rap," he admits, "but I don't kick it. Other people like it. A lot of people didn't like rock and roll, but they never kicked. The new reggae stuff I like because it has very much a Latin beat to it. If it's music that people can dance to, it goes over big. And who can dance to rap? Reggae is just beautiful, but I'll stick with my blues and rock 'n' roll."

It reads almost corny, but hearing them from the man himself, such affectionate comments sound utterly perfect. Johnson is the archetypal rock 'n' roll pioneer. If he didn't exist, fans of "old time rock 'n' roll" would probably have invented him. But unlike many of his successors - rock legends ranging from the Beatles to David Bowie to Madonna to Radiohead - he has little interest in experimentation or re-invention.

"I still have the same style," he says smoothly. "I'm just trying to add some more to it. It's working pretty well for me right now."

Fair enough. Why mess with a legend?