“Memphis amateurs are the world’s professionals.” — Rufus Thomas

Baz Luhrmann’s Elvis movie was filled with deep cuts, so appreciated if you care about this story, and not just Elvis’ story, but the environment from which he came. Memphis. Beale Street. Thomas was a singer, yes, and he recorded at Sun, like so many did, but he was also a popular and important DJ, who ruled the roost, and let people know the hottest records coming out, who was doing what, where you could see so-and-so play, and – in general – created a sense of community over the airwaves. Baz Luhrmann includes one of those recordings, as he moves his camera down onto bustling Beale Street for the first time, AND puts Thomas’ name on the screen. To pull him out specifically and place him in the narrative. Because he was THERE. At the CENTER.

This shit matters.

Thomas had a lot of ambivalent feelings about Sam Phillips – as many Black artists did. Phillips set up the Memphis Recording Service to record THEM, meaning the un-heard un-recorded Black voices in Memphis – and Sam did start out by doing that. We owe him a great debt: we have so many raw recordings of all of these people – giants like Howlin’ Wolf – and lesser figures too – giving us a collage of everything going on, everything in the air in the early ’50s. And then Elvis came and … poof. Sam was so busy with Elvis everything else basically ceased. The white artists at Sun weren’t happy either. Johnny Cash was like, “I need you to back me harder, Sam, I need your support or I’m out of here.” So. Thomas lived a long life and was interviewed often about that time. He wasn’t 100% bitter – he had a lot of good things to say too (“Elvis took off like a light freight and gave an injection to Black music it hadn’t had in a long time.” Think about that comment coming from Thomas! It’s complicated!) – but he was also understandably irritated by the whole thing too, by Sam Phillips more than anything else.

Still. He was a major player and a SHOWMAN.

His daughter, Carla, was also a singer, another legend, known as the Queen of Soul, who recorded at Atlantic and also Stax. They sometimes performed and recorded together.

Thomas’ other children were also successful, soul singer Vaneese Thomas and keyboardist Marvell Thomas. They were an institution as a family. Thomas was the son of sharecroppers – they all were in those early years of Memphis music – including Sam Phillips. Thomas got his start in vaudeville, so his entertainment roots went deep. He wasn’t “just” a singer. He was the whole package. He was a personality! Radio was perfect for him and WDIA out of Memphis was a perfect fit. WDIA is historic in many ways (I walked by the old building my last time in Memphis just to check it out).

It was the first radio station in the country with programming devoted solely to Black performers, geared towards a Black audience (although anyone, of course, could tune in). The on-air talent was all Black, another innovation. (It was white-owned, however.) Thomas often was a master of ceremonies at local talent shows, or music nights, where all the future legends – like B.B. King – would perform. He knew literally everyone.

Stax Records has a great bio page up for Rufus Thomas.

He wasn’t gunning to be a recording artist. He was a busy man. But he did record a single in 1950 or something like that on a small label. And …

“I just wanted to make a record. I never thought of getting rich. I just wanted to be known, be a recording artist. But the record sold five copies and I bought four of them.”

He was proud of being from Memphis. He even set himself up as a tour guide to white teenagers, taking them on blues-club-hopping tours of Beale Street, starting at around midnight. In 1953, Big Mama Thornton had a massive hit with Lieber and Stoller’s song “Hound Dog”. Sam Phillips had an idea. Why didn’t Rufus – a local celebrity – record an answer song?

“Bear Cat” was the result.

His playful personality comes through loud and clear. It’s still an essential Sun track, and also evidence of Sam Phillips’ ability to be flexible, jump on the moment, and – important – capitalize on the publicity possibilities.

Thomas did record a couple more hits. You’ve probably heard “Walk the Dog”.

He struck gold in 1972 with “The Funky Chicken”.

Also in 1972 was the Wattstax concert, a benefit concert, featuring all the major artists on Stax Records, commemorating the anniversary of the 1965 Watts riots. Wattstax was an EVENT. Stax recorded it and put out a double album, and it was also filmed and released in 1974 as Wattstax. The footage is bananas. It gives a real sense of just how wild that concert was. Carla Thomas performed too. Isaac Hayes. The film crew was primarily Black. Jesse Jackson is basically the emcee. Rufus crushes it and it gives a great sense of the command he could generate, because that was a chaotic day and he controlled things onstage AS he performed, which is kind of amazing.

Jim Jarmusch put him in his Memphis-homage film Mystery Train:

He’s in the Memphis Music Hall of Fame. Rufus Thomas was a quintessential emcee he brought Beale Street to the world.

 
 
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