Boom de boom de boom de boom boom

It’s
the beat, the beat, the beat.

          OK, so Chuck Berry had the licks and
Elvis got all the chicks. Buddy Holly had the twang and Little Richard made ’em
shake that thang. But Bo… Bo Diddley had the beat. The Bo Diddley beat.

          If you’ve ever heard the Strangeloves’
“I Want Candy” or Buddy Holly’s “Not Fadeaway,” then you’ve heard the Bo
Diddley beat. If you’ve ever heard Johnny Otis’ “Willie & The Hand Jive,”
U2’s “Desire,” or even George Michael’s “Faith,” you’ve heard the Bo Diddley
beat.

          This is rock ‘n’ roll’s drive at its
most primal, unmistakable, and immediate. You could say it’s the heart of rock
‘n’ roll, but cheesy ’80s flashbacks might stop you. So let’s just say it’s the
heart’s throb.

          You’d think Diddley inadvertently
culled his trademark hip-shake groove from the “Shave and a Haircut, Two Bits”
ditty, but Bo’s not so sure.

          “I don’t know, man,” he says from his
Gainesville, Florida, home. “I just stumbled upon it like anything else, you
know. Like a scientist of music.”

          Bo bounced onto the scene in 1955,
when early rock ‘n’ roll was beginning to rumble below the surface. Within a
year it would explode. Racial segregation was rampant and Whitey was suspicious
of the jungle beat: Bo Diddley’s beat in particular.

          “They hollered because the beat made
people feel primitive — as we all are” he says. “They was sayin’ a lot of
funny shit like ‘What the hell is this,’ and ‘This is jungle music.’ And that’s
the reason why they’d use the word primitive. People beat on tin cans and
buckets and things before instruments came along and made rhythms, you
understand? So everybody didn’t understand what the hell I was doin’ on the
guitar. And then I added the drums to it and they started to call it ‘the
beat.’ But it’s the beat and the melody all in one.”

          Diddley’s first single on Chess
Records, “Bo Diddley” b/w “I’m A Man,” exploded with crossover appeal that was
unheard of at that time. Young white kids were rapidly picking up on the beat
and soul of black artists like Diddley, on what was then referred to as “race
music.”

          Though bespectacled, bow-tied, and
sporting a square guitar, Bo Diddley looked ominous and mean. Bourgeois panties
were in a bunch.

          “Yeah, because Tchaikovsky got shoved
in the corner,” Diddley says. “They didn’t like boom de boom de boom de boom
boom.”

The
beat threatened to ruin a generation. Hysteria prevailed.

          “They’d run around talkin’ ’bout their
daughters getting pregnant because they was listenin’ to jungle music,” he
says. “And that’s just the biggest crock of crap in the world.”

          And though Bo’s beat was salacious —
bodacious, if you will — as far as he was concerned, it wasn’t dirty.

          “None of my songs ever had any dirty
lyrics,” he says. “It was what you wanted to make out of it. If your mind was
dirty, hey, that was it.”

          The Bo Diddley beat loomed huge,
lending heavy influence to virtually all types of rock ‘n’ roll bands. It could
be said that Diddley was instrumental in sparking the British invasion. The
Rolling Stones, The Yardbirds, The Animals, The Pretty Things, and so on all
covered Diddley tunes and incorporated his beat into their own sound.

          Bo Diddley recorded for the legendary
Chess Records label from 1955 to 1974 and has sold millions of records. But as
was frequently the case for pioneering rock ‘n’ roll artists, he didn’t see
diddly.

          “My fans have bought millions and
millions of dollars throughout the 49 years I’ve been performing,” he says.
“And ain’t no checks come to my Goddamn house. So where’s the damn money? In
America you have the chance to become somebody and I did my best. But there’s
something else called thievery and lies and deceit.”

          Shrewd label honchos and publishers
had the upper hand.

          “They’d get you in such a vice,” he
says. “They’d never pay so you didn’t have money to get no lawyer, you dig?
See, lawyers don’t wanna work for you unless they get paid. And there ain’t no
Goddman way if you didn’t never get paid for your work.”

          But Diddley’s got the cure.

          “I’m coming out with something but it
won’t be on no record label,” he says. Bo’s next record will be available only
through his web site. “That’s the only way people will be able to get my
product. That way I don’t have to be ripped off.”

          Which brings us to Bo Diddley’s
relevance today. Very little contemporary rock music sounds like that of its
Diddley daddy. Though without him it’s safe to assume it would not be here
today. Bo isn’t particular.

          “I like good clean music,” he says.
“Good clean American music. There’s some pretty good dudes out there doin’ some
nice things. I like a lot of country music. I like Vince Gill and Wynonna. I’m
crazy about her and Dolly Parton.”

          But Bo don’t like rap.

          “A lot of the dirty rap lyrics is what
I don’t like,” he says. “I call it rap crap. These guys need to clean up their
act and be a role model for the kids in America. I’m a parent myself and a
grandfather and a great-grandfather and I don’t like the shit.”

          Not everybody dug Bo Diddley right off
the bat, either.

          “I guess I’m just like the people was
when I came out,” he concedes with a laugh.

          While most of the rock ‘n’ roll
pioneers have softened over the years or found God or dope or simply up and
died, Bo Diddley remains a rocking constant, like his namesake beat. He’s a
Rock and Roll Hall of Famer and still touring at age 75. He’s working and
“puttin’ stuff together, some old stuff, some new things that I do.” We’ll no
doubt hear “Mona,” “Who Do You Love,” “Pills,” and “Cops and Robbers.” And if
we’re lucky, we’ll hear my favorite Diddley disc “I Can Tell.” Bo says no.

          “Don’t nobody know how to play it,” he
says. I assure him his backing band for the evening, The Hi-Risers, is one of
the best roots-rock outfits around and they know everything by everybody — in
all keys.

          “Yeah, but I might be the one that
don’t know it,” Diddley says.

Bo Diddley,
backed by The Hi-Risers, plays two
shows on Saturday, February 14, at the Montage Grille, 50 Chestnut Street, at
6:30 p.m. and 10 p.m. Tix: $35-$40. 232-8380

This article appears in Feb 11-17, 2004.