He’s Not Just a Sideman

Scotty Moore may be the single most influential guitarist in rock ‘n’ roll--the guy who not only created the mold on the extraordinary records he made with Elvis Presley in the mid-1950s, but without whom Elvis himself may very well have remained a talented but unfocused hillbilly singer from Tupelo, Miss.

Yet as important an instrumentalist as he is, during the 23 years he toured and recorded with Presley and in the 23 years since Presley’s death, Moore never made a solo record.

“That’s something I never aspired to do,” Moore said from his home in Nashville. He further insists he never will, making him that rarity of rarities, a rock guitarist without ego.

Perhaps even more surprising coming from the man who invented many of the licks that have become part of the rock guitar lexicon, he confesses, “I doubt if I could sit down and play you the melody of a song all the way through. I just always enjoyed playing behind the singer.”

Moore, 68, still plays in public, but as it was from the beginning, it’s always as an accompanist for singers. In recent years he has collaborated with country singer Ronnie McDowell, whose first hit was his 1977 Presley tribute single, “The King Is Gone.”

He has also teamed up with former Stray Cats bassist Lee Rocker, with whom he’s appearing this weekend at the Coach House in San Juan Capistrano and the Troubadour in West Hollywood.

Rocker, of course, is a roots-rock devotee who was monumentally influenced by the Sun Records sessions Elvis made with Moore, bassist Bill Black and, later, drummer D.J. Fontana.

Because of his lifelong respect for Moore, Rocker has invited the venerable guitarist to join his band from time to time. Last summer, Rocker flew the guitarist out from Tennessee to join him at the Hootenanny 2000 Festival in Santiago Canyon, and their appearance provided one of the annual roots-rock event’s highlights.

Moore was part of the first group of musicians inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame earlier this year in the new Sidemen category, though Moore wasn’t happy with the category’s name as it applied to the way he, Black and Fontana worked with Elvis.

“Guys like [drummer] Hal Blaine and [saxophonist] King Curtis played on all different kinds of artists’ records over the years. They were true sidemen. I never considered playing with anybody else.

“I loved going in with Elvis, to go in and cut new songs. To go in and cut four songs in three hours [as professional studio musicians often did]--that didn’t appeal to me at all. I like to take my time with the song and try to find something that would fit that was not somebody else’s idea.”

That deeply felt sense of experimentation was just what Elvis needed when he began to record--a time when he was singing everything from pop standards to old country hits, from gospel tunes to film music.

When Sun Records producer Sam Phillips introduced the shy 19-year-old singer to Moore and Black in 1954 in Memphis, no one knew where it would lead.

But Phillips--the blues and R&B; music producer who vowed he could make a million dollars if he could find a white singer who sounded as if he were black--recognized that Moore and Black were talented enough to help bring something unique out of Presley’s raw talent.

“Neither one of us knew what we were doing,” Moore said. “Let’s face facts--Sam and I became good friends when I had a country-western group that sold a couple dozen records. I knew he was looking for something new, and he knew I was looking for something new. So early on, Bill and I went in to work with Elvis because it didn’t cost Sam anything, first and foremost.

“[Phillips] didn’t know what he was looking for, but he knew it when he heard it. I didn’t know. All I knew is that first song [“That’s All Right”] sounded OK--it had a good rhythm and a good feel to it. But Sam said, ‘That’s it--that’s what we’re looking for.’ ”

Though most of the attention has centered on Presley’s singing and his kinetic performance style, Moore--who also handled duties as Presley’s manager until Col. Tom Parker entered the picture--said that as a guitarist Elvis “had great rhythm. He didn’t know all the chords in the world, but he had an uncanny feel for the rhythm. He had it in his voice too.”

On that front, Moore added, “I’ve seen singers who would take half a day learning eight bars of a song’s bridge, but Elvis knew he could do a song if he heard it one time through. It was just second nature to him.”

Those early Sun singles--billed, it’s worth noting, as “Elvis Presley, Scotty and Bill”--took off first in the South, prompting interest from the major national labels. RCA Records famously paid Sam Phillips $35,000 for Presley’s contract, then the highest amount ever paid to sign a recording artist.

Once Presley went to work for RCA, his singles and albums bore only his name, under orders from his new manager, Col. Parker. It was a slap in the face to Moore, Black and Fontana.

“We worked together. There wasn’t a leader, there wasn’t anybody better than anybody else,” said Moore, who committed his side of Presley’s oft-told story to paper in his 1997 autobiography, “That’s Alright, Elvis.”

“We’d always talk among each other [while working out songs]. We’d let Elvis worry about the vocals, and we tried to do something that would complement the vocals yet stay out of the way. You didn’t want to do too much.”

As for the band’s lack of credit on those early hits, Moore said, “For years everybody thought we were part of the Jordanaires [the vocal quartet that regularly backed Presley]. It kind of got to us because, after all, we were all still after the same thing. But I wouldn’t go back and change anything for more notoriety by any means.”

As Presley’s career took off and he become a movie star as well as the world’s bestselling rock ‘n’ roll singer, the quality of the material put in front of him dropped significantly.

“I was working on all the sessions through ’68 just about. But some were so bad, I just looked to the other guys hired locally, here in Nashville, or in California--the session players. I’d let them do it, the material was so bad. I couldn’t hear anything [worthwhile] in it.”

“Elvis would come in with the Jordanaires and sing gospel songs half the night just to get in the mood to do stuff that he hated. But he would not buck up to the producer. So once he decided to get this crap done, he’d do the best he could. But he’d give you that sneery look all the time.”

Moore is doing his best after triple-bypass heart surgery after a heart attack two years ago as he was about to go onstage in Kentucky with McDowell.

He cut back on making appearances for several months, but has since resumed periodic trips to Europe, where fans continue to worship at the Sun Records altar.

“They’re just fantastic over there, the way they can tell you what you did on April 15, 1957, besides pay taxes.”

Now that Moore has joined Elvis in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, he’s awaiting just one last bit of musical justice.

“Hopefully, next year D.J. and Bill will get in. But it’s political, and everybody knows it is. That’s show biz.”

BE THERE

Lee Rocker and Scotty Moore play Saturday at the Coach House, 33157 Camino Capistrano, San Juan Capistrano. (949) 496-8930. With Redneck Rolemodels. 8 p.m. $17.50 to $19.50. Also Sunday at the Troubadour, 9081 Santa Monica Blvd., West Hollywood. With Three Bad Jacks. 8 p.m. (310) 276-6168.