Leon Russell: The Rolling Stone Interview
What was your major concern in school?
I think it was containing my neurosis about school not being the proper way to educate, which I found increasingly difficult as I went on. When I first started in school I was a straight-A student, and as I progressed – my last year in school I failed three courses and just could barely make it to school at all.
What was your last year in school – high school or college? When did you see the light?
When I had a chance to go on the road with Jerry Lee Lewis. I’d just spent three days, twelve hours a day, taking entrance examinations to Tulsa University and I just thought, well, it’s a waste of time, ’cause I have to study so many things I’m not interested in. ROTC I had to take, and right away I knew that I didn’t want to do that. I figured this was my chance to eat in a lot of restaurants and travel around, play some rock and roll music, which I decided was easier and better.
Was Jerry Lee Lewis a good teacher, philosophically, with his redneck tendencies?
Well, there’s a lot to be learned from the reds.
Was this during the height of his thing?
I’d say it was during the depth of his thing, right after he was kicked out of England.
He had married his cousin.
Yeah. He used to carry his own trio, but it was probably economically not feasible. So he had just come from doin’ about ten shows with bands, a different band in each town, and he was really flipped out and crazy. We did all of his songs in his keys, so when we sat down to do a show we just ripped ’em off. So he said, “Well, shit. You guys have got to come on the road with me.”
You played as your own band and then you also backed him.
The dance-concert kind of deal. The extravagant concert.
What were the gigs like?
Well, it was still the last era of Blackboard Jungle and I remember Jerry Lee in Cheyenne, Wyoming. The band was really playing and he was standing up on the piano bench singing and watching 75 people fight in the audience, just chasing around and running all over the audience. Pretty soon they all advanced on the stage, when they got tired of fighting with each other, and the curtains were pulled and we made a mad scramble out to the cars and packed up as many instruments as we could and got out of town.
Must’ve been dynamite music.
Yeah . . . People were even more interested in the event at that time than they are now, and what happens now is the event rather than the music. But most of us used to fight, I think. Group interaction on even a more basic level than what happens now.
Did you have to wear pink suits and matching ribbon ties?
I don’t know whether we had to or not, but I think we probably wore some red sparkly shirts and white shoes or something.
A&M put out an album of old stuff recently, called ‘Bootleg,’ and it had a couple of cuts by you – one was an upbeat sort of Rick Nelson version of “Misty.”
That was back in the days of my more obvious satire. I think what moved me to do that was I’d just heard John Lee Hooker’s version of “I Left My Heart in San Francisco.” It was so funny I decided to do one, too. But I think Herb Alpert [the A of A&M] bought the record from me ’cause he thought I needed the money – which I probably did.
Were these demos you did?
No, I just did them after a session – I think it was a Bobby Darin session, and everybody was just hanging around, so we cut this record.
Who’s your wardrobe person who chooses your outstanding outfits and takes care of your color coordination?
It’s mostly fans who come up and give me stuff or make clothes for me. I’m into symbolism. Like the long hair is symbolism, and the distance between me and the audience sometimes affects what I’m going to wear.
What does the long hair symbolize?
It’s kind of like the songs. Nothing specific – it just is what it is. It’s me in comparison to other long-haired people and short-haired people and people in general.
What does the basketball shirt signify?
I’d hate to say what it signifies to me because it might restrict your own fantasies.
Well, I hardly ever fantasize over basketball jersies, to tell you the truth. It strikes me as interesting to see that you’d go out and buy a basketball shirt, or receive one and wear it.
It’s a few things: it’s teams, it’s spectator activities, which I’m not convinced is the best sort of activity – voyeurs – I’m not sure whether it’s good or not, but I’m willing to take the role of the musical football player until such time that people realize that they can make music themselves.
There’s something else, too. Instead of like the Knicks or some professional team, you’re “Gil’s Barbershop” or “Holy Trinity.” Makes people wonder.
Well, that’s the hope. The wondering wanderer. That’s the whole bag–the songs, the performance, the whole lifestyle. Make people wonder. Make myself wonder, too. And it’s great.
