SXSW: WHOOOOOH!

Little Richard will be shinin' for you

In a hotel room somewhere in Tennessee, a phone rings, and a 71-year-old man answers it: "Hello?"

His voice is musical, and a little fey, with a slight crack in it. He sounds sad. Maybe he's just tired. Maybe he's just 71 years old.

"Yes," he says faintly, "this is Little Richard."

I don't want Little Richard to sound sad, or tired, or old. I want Little Richard to sound like "A-WOMP-BOM-A-LOO-BOMP-A-LOP-BAM-BOOM!" I want him to make that "WHOOOOOH!" that the Beatles kept trying to copy. I want him to say "Shut uuuhhp!" like he does at least a dozen times every time he plays, flapping a bejeweled hand at the audience. I want him to be an unbridled, joyous expression of human possibility and pansexuality, terrorizing the status quo and playing the piano with his foot.

I also want to ask him impolite questions about his religious history and his views on gay marriage and whether he played on his own records, and I can't do that if he sounds like a dignified, weary retiree.

Little Richard is not meeting my needs.

So I start slow: Has he started writing his South by Southwest keynote speech? Or will he be winging it?

"I'm not writing it," he says with finality. "It'll be winged to death. If you know the story, why you got to write it? If you were there ... people say did you meet Elvis Presley, did you meet Fats Domino, did you meet Waylon Jennings. Yes, I met Waylon Jennings. These people, I know them. ... It's what I saw and what I did."

Little Richard has a habit of answering questions with lists, which, though informative, lack narrative drive. I ask him about the New Orleans musicians he played with on his early recordings, records that still sound like a house party that's already had the cops called on it at least twice.

"Oh my, yes, wonderful musicians. Lee Allen ... Earl Palmer ... Huey Smith, a wonderful piano player ... James Booker . . . Professor Longhair ..."

Those last three are piano players. Did they play on his records?

"No." The list stops abruptly. He sounds miffed. "I played on my own records."

All right. What about the scary airplane flight to Australia in 1957 that caused him to repent his sinful lifestyle, throw all his jewelry in Sydney Harbor and quit rock 'n' roll to be a preacher?

"That didn't happen."

Huh?

"I never did that."

I'm gobsmacked. Little Richard is overturning one of the fundamental creation myths of rock 'n' roll. In 1957 and 1958, we are told, the front lines of rock 'n' roll were decimated by a series of unrelated events: Buddy Holly and Ritchie Valens dying in a plane crash, Eddie Cochran buying it in a car wreck, Elvis and the Everlys in uniform, Jerry Lee Lewis in trouble for marrying his underage cousin, Chuck Berry in prison for transporting an underage girl (not his cousin) across state lines, and -- very important, for balance -- Little Richard abandoning the depravity of rock 'n' roll to preach the Gospel.

"They put out that I became a preacher," he says. "I was never a preacher. I went to Oakwood College in Huntsville, Ala., to study business."

Oh.

This is very disappointing.

But hey, since we're talking about religion anyway ... Richard is older, but he is faster, and gets there first.

"I am a person who loves God," he says. "I think everybody should love God." It's clear that this part of the discussion is now over.

We cover some logistical issues: He plays about five dates a month. ("You have to keep your band together.") He's more popular in Europe than he is here. He plays a lot of casinos. He lives in L.A. He claims to like a lot of modern music.

"I like some of the hip-hop. I like some of these things by ... what's this girl's name ... " A long, long pause ensues. "Umm ..." I picture a hotel room in Tennessee, a TV silently running, a Gideon Bible. Then the list kicks in: "Alicia Keys! I think she's fantastic, I love her. I like some things by Mary J. Blige. I like some things by Beyonce. Not everything, mind you, but some things. I love Whitney Houston. Mariah Carey. Those people are all real singers. I love Aretha."

Go figure: Little Richard digs divas.

Still reconciling myself to the fact that the onstage Little Richard is not the on-the-phone Little Richard, I ask a lame question: How is music different from when he started? And at some point during the answer, something happens. Little Richard is on.

"You know, Muddy Waters, Elmore James, Howlin' Wolf, these are friends of mine, but I had to develop my own style. I'm from the old school. I'm from the school when the building wasn't there! Back in the day, nobody went on the stage in jeans. Everybody was sharp! I liked the flashiness; I wear that to this day. In Austin, I'll be shinin'! It may not be the shiny shiny shiny, but it'll be shiny! An entertainer wants to wear what the audience don't have on! They don't want to see an introvert. They want to see someone doing what they can't do. They want to see someone who lets the big toe shoot up in the boot!"

Excuse me?

"The big toe shoot up in the boot! An entertainer loves his audience and he thrives on seeing them be happy. I love my audience of all races, creeds and colors! And when the young people come to see me, it's history alive! So I just want to let the young people know that the grass may be greener on the other side, but it's just as hard to cut! That's right!"

And then, with a deft conversational glissando, Little Richard is thanking me and telling me he looks forward to seeing me in Austin. The interview is over. And I never got the answers to my questions.

But at least he doesn't sound so sad anymore.