Rock critic Dave Marsh describes the phenomenon:īack in 1963, everybody who knew anything about rock ‘n’ roll knew that the Kingsmen’s “Louie Louie” concealed dirty words that could be unveiled only by playing the 45 rpm single at 33-1/3. Since the lyrics could have said almost anything, it seemed, they provoked immediate speculation about obscenity. 2 on the Billboard singles charts, despite the fact that no one who hadn’t heard the earlier versions had a clue what it was about. The Kingsman’s “Louie Louie” became an instant garage-rock classic, hitting No.

The incomprehensible vocals in the Kingsmen’s 1963 recording of “Louie, Louie” are legendary, covered and imitated by garage bands and rock stars since, and going down “in pop history,” Anwen Crawford writes at The New Yorker, “as one of the medium’s more endearing (and enduring) moments of amateurism.” One classic case illustrates the norm: parental overreaction to teenage rumors, incompetent response from authorities, and, as above, a technical limitation that led to a stylistic revolution. Since then, rock has survived one crusade after another, launched by parents, church groups, and scaremongering charlatans. Link Wray’s gritty 1958 instrumental “Rumble” earned a ban from the airwaves for its alleged menace. Distortion, the sine qua non of modern rock, came from broken amplifiers and mixing boards, and speakers slashed to ribbons. Rock and roll history is built on happy accidents, moments where enthusiasm and raw talent exceed the limits of technology.

Louie Louie by Dave Marsh