Little, and large

ON THE rare and blessed occasions when I can actually find a bit of time to devote to thinking properly about which singles to include in this list, I always make a mental note to mention Little Richard.

My memory received a useful jolt this week when Mojo magazine placed Richard's Tutti Frutti at the very top of the list of "100 records that changed the world." You won't find me arguing with that: the electrical jolt that this record sent through the rock & roll community - and by extension the teenagers of the world - was arguably the equivalent of Elvis detonating timebombs of repressed sexuality with each swivel of his hips.

However, I'm going with Keep A Knockin' as my personal fave, largely because of its unstoppable, juggernaut groove and an inimitably unhinged vocal performance from "the Georgia Peach" himself.

Little Richard has long been one of my favourite vocalists, not only for his sheer lung power - you can actually feel those old microphones bending under the onslaught - but also because he unleashed something tingling and primeval every time he threw his head back and howled.

An irrepressible, excitable and way-over-the-top force of nature, Richard seemed possessed by rock to a degree beyond the reach of even his most demented peers. Taking his sartorial cue from the great Esquerita - whose combination of glistening pompadour hairdo, sparkly threads and horn-rimmed shades made you feel as though a Cadillac was bearing down upon you - Richard tore it up like there was no today, much less tomorrow.

Keep A Knockin' has the momentum of a brakeless freight train, falling magically between a straight 4/4 and a shuffle. To tortuously extend the train metaphor, Richard is perched proudly on the cow-catcher, sublimely unconcerned that it can only hurtle off the rails or crash headlong into the buffers.

It often baffles me how a song with a mere two chords and the most rudimentary of lyrics could end up being so compellingly brilliant, but there you go: it just is.