Everybody's Got a Baby But Me

The last thing I was expecting to discover at the opening of the new Virginia Historical Society exhibit was the identity of the father of heavy metal. Just goes to prove the beauty of the unexpected.

Virginia Rocks! The History of Rockabilly in the Commonwealth appealed to me because of my ongoing desire to expand my musical knowledge base, but also because I know so little about this hybrid of rock and roll and hillbilly music.

It seemed like a good way to spend a Saturday afternoon, looking at all kinds of stuff that interests me: vintage photos, jukeboxes, guitars and show posters. And a rockabilly soundtrack playing the whole time.

Of course, a big part of the early interest in rockabilly music was brought about by the "hillbilly Frank Sinatra," Elvis. Loving the local angle as I do, I got a kick out of a story about a show Elvis headlined in Richmond at the Mosque in 1955. Out on Laurel Street, the waiting fans were apparently getting rambunctious so Elvis went out and asked them to settle down so the musicians could hear themselves warming up. It's hard to imagine a headliner doing the same today.

Another local connection was the immensely popular Old Dominion Barn Dances showcasing local talent. One show poster had a bill of seven acts and tickets were 80 cents for upstairs seating and $1.15 for downstairs. And I thought four bands for five dollars at Gallery 5 was a steal! The shows were held at a theater at Broad and 9th, just two blocks down from the National. I could have walked there, too.

At a show at the Safari Grill in Herndon, Virginia, the poster listed the bands and tickets prices, but also an added incentive. "Free shrunken head from the Pigmy region of Africa to everyone attending the dance this weekend." Even after seeing the exhibit, I'm still not quite sure about the connection between rockabilly and shrunken heads, but perhaps it spoke to a different generation's taste.

And the father of heavy metal? That would be Link Wray who took a detour through rockabilly on his way to the kind of power chord-playing that inspired the likes of Dylan, Hendrix and Townsend. Now I know.

The exhibit includes big screens and audio so you actually get to hear and see some of the performers at their peak. Like the records recorded at the time, the sound isn't great, but the energy of the performances still comes through.

As for everyone having a baby but me, that's the title of the one and only hit of Warren Miller, a musician who played around DC and Norfolk back in the 50s. He became a DJ at the first all-country station and back then, it was country stations who were willing to play the new rockabilly music.

And the requirements of rockabilly were simple enough: a drawling solo singer, a driving drum beat, a slapping, repetitive bass line, razor-edged guitar licks and catchy lovelorn or suggestive lyrics. "Everybody's got a baby but me" has it all, baby.

Everybody's got a baby but me
Everybody's getting lovin', everybody's getting huggin' but me.

I'm right there with you, Warren. Rockabilly on.