Chuck Berry: Rockin’ At The Hops Album Review

While some critics and dedicated fans might readily place Chuck Berry’s fourth LP, Rockin’ At The Hops, on par with his seminal earlier trilogy – a view notably held by Bruce Eder of the All-Music Guide, whose assessment highlights the diverse ways musical impact is perceived – it’s generally accepted that this album hasn’t etched itself into history as a landmark collection of original Berry material. Indeed, arguably no subsequent Chuck Berry LP achieved that iconic status, barring the brief resurgence with St. Louis To Liverpool following his prison sentence.

The often-cited reason for this perceived dip in quality is the onset of Berry’s legal battles – the notorious “Apache Trials” of the early 1960s. These trials were widely seen at the time as fueled by both racism and anti-rock’n’roll sentiment, though contemporary re-evaluations increasingly consider Berry’s problematic relationships with young women, like Janice Escalanti. While the complex interplay of racism, rock’n’roll backlash, and Berry’s personal conduct likely holds degrees of truth, it’s crucial for this musical assessment to note a key point: roughly half the songs on Rockin’ At The Hops were recorded in mid-1959. This period marked the zenith of Berry’s fame, well before the Escalanti incident occurred in December 1959, let alone escalated to trial.

Consider the output from the Chess Studios sessions on July 27–29, 1959: ‘Betty Jean’, ‘Childhood Sweetheart’, ‘Broken Arrow’, ‘Let It Rock’, and ‘Too Pooped To Pop’ (alongside unreleased outtakes like ‘County Line’ and ‘One O’Clock Jump’). Does a standout classic immediately spring to mind? Perhaps ‘Let It Rock’, famously revived by The Rolling Stones during their early 1970s tours and covered by various rockabilly revivalists since. Yet, even ‘Let It Rock’ fails to capture the magic of ‘Johnny B. Goode’. Ironically, ‘Let It Rock’ essentially is ‘Johnny B. Goode’, stripped of its defining hooks.

This observation becomes more pointed when contrasted with the previous Chess session in February 1959, which yielded undeniable classics like ‘Almost Grown’ and ‘Back In The USA’. It suggests the period between February and July 1959 was precisely when Berry’s seemingly inexhaustible creative wellspring began to run dry after four prolific years. Whether this was a premonition of troubles to come, or simply the natural expiration of an intense creative phase (perhaps coincidentally aligning with the fourth anniversary of recording ‘Maybellene’ in May 1959), the result was clear: the magic was fading. This appears to be a straightforward case of the “Fifties’ Curse” – the phenomenon where pioneering artists struggled to maintain momentum into the next decade.

Album cover for Chuck Berry – Rockin' At The Hops featuring the rock and roll legend playing his guitar.

Of course, certain elements remained constant. The signature groove, the (variably successful) humor, and the electrifying lead guitar are present on tracks like ‘Let It Rock’. Its narrative – a snippet of a horror story about railroad workers surprised by an unscheduled train – showcases Berry’s knack for blending the mundane, the upbeat, and the macabre. However, the title ‘Let It Rock’ overshadows this narrative detail for most listeners, becoming the song’s primary takeaway, especially in cover versions like the Stones’ where lyrics are often indistinct. What remains puzzling is Berry’s motivation for recycling the ‘Johnny B. Goode’ verse melody, adding new lyrics, omitting the chorus entirely, and replacing it with somewhat disjointed guitar solos. While recycling ideas for B-sides or filler wasn’t new, releasing such a transparent rewrite as an A-side was a first. Despite his immense popularity allowing it to chart (in February 1960, just before the trial began), it marked his final entry into the Top 100 before his 1964 comeback.

The rest of the mid-1959 material offers little variation from this pattern of diminishing returns. ‘Betty Jean’ is a clear retread of ‘Sweet Little Sixteen’, transforming an anthem to rock’n’roll into a simplistic love song burdened by corny backing vocals (“sing the song Chuckie boy” feels particularly jarring) and a poorly mixed, underdeveloped guitar solo. ‘Childhood Sweetheart’ is a standard uptempo 12-bar blues where Berry sounds audibly bored, even resorting to the ‘Dust My Broom’ riff. ‘Broken Arrow’ attempts to continue the vignette style of ‘Brown Eyed Handsome Man’, linking tales of “stupid behavior” – comparing a Native American chief battling a superior force to a man whose wife spends all his money shopping. When an artist starts recycling not just riffs but their sense of humor, it signals a deeper creative stagnation.

One track from July 1959 stands out slightly: ‘Too Pooped To Pop’. It offers a sonic departure, being driven primarily by saxophone rather than guitar or piano – a first for Berry. It features a reasonably catchy chorus and lyrics about an older man trying to keep up with youth trends (“Casey”), which are more amusing than those on ‘Broken Arrow’. However, the song, penned by Billy Davis (known for Jackie Wilson hits and later Coca-Cola jingles), feels ill-suited to Berry. Its relaxed, New Orleans-esque vibe seems a better fit for artists like Huey “Piano” Smith. This kind of lighthearted vaudeville works best with natural performers of comedic personas; while Berry enjoyed clowning, it wasn’t his inherent style.

Moving into 1960, the recordings reflect a subtle shift. Ellis “Lafayette” Leake often handles piano duties instead of Johnnie Johnson. Whether this directly influenced Berry’s increased focus on slow blues is debatable (Leake played on both slow and upbeat tracks previously), but it’s plausible that Berry’s mood was more somber due to his impending legal battles. ‘Driftin’ Blues’, recorded in February 1960, is delivered with uncharacteristic self-pity; lines like “if my baby would only take me back again / well you know I ain’t good for nothin’ and I haven’t got a friend” ring true given the circumstances. Ironically, while slow blues isn’t Berry’s signature style, at this point, it felt more genuine than some of the upbeat numbers. It certainly carries more emotional weight than the horns-driven take on ‘I Got To Find My Baby’, a callback to jump blues and early R&B styles.

The final batch of songs, recorded in late March and early April 1960, includes ‘Bye Bye Johnny’. This track makes no pretense of being anything other than a direct sequel to ‘Johnny B. Goode’. One could argue for its merit based on the shift in perspective to Johnny’s mother (“she remembered taking money out from gathering crop / and buying Johnny’s guitar at a broker shop“). However, the sentimental narrative clashes with the driving rock’n’roll rhythm, and frankly, the emotional investment feels forced. ‘Bye Bye Johnny’ exists primarily as a reminder of its superior predecessor, much like other unnecessary sequels in popular music.

The cover versions included on Chuck Berry Rockin At The Hops are generally as uninspired as the self-rewrites. ‘Worried Life Blues’, featuring an awkward interplay with Matt Murphy on lead guitar, pales in comparison to Ray Charles’s soulful rendition from the same year. Similarly, ‘Confessin’ The Blues’ lacks the depth of Little Walter’s 1958 version. The strongest cover is arguably ‘Down The Road A Piece‘, an adaptation of a 1940 Don Raye tune, likely influenced by Amos Milburn’s boogie-woogie version (Berry even incorporates some of Milburn’s piano licks into his guitar playing). It features Berry’s most engaging soloing on the album, though the tempo feels somewhat sluggish – a flaw The Rolling Stones rectified in their 1964 cover, recorded at Chess Studios with Berry present.

It’s telling that many songs from Rockin’ At The Hops were covered by prominent British Invasion bands. The Stones tackled ‘Bye Bye Johnny’, ‘Down The Road Apiece’, and ‘Confessin’ The Blues’ on early records, and added ‘Let It Rock‘ to their live sets later. The Animals covered ‘Worried Life Blues’ (though likely drawing more from Ray Charles), and The Beatles performed ‘I Got To Find My Baby’ for the BBC. This wasn’t necessarily a testament to the album’s greatness, but rather because these relatively weaker tracks offered more room for these young bands to impose their own style. The Stones’ version of ‘Down The Road Apiece’ exemplifies this, soaring where Berry’s version struggles to lift off.

Ultimately, if expectations are adjusted, Rockin’ At The Hops still delivers a recognizable Chuck Berry experience. It’s steeped in the atmospheric late-Fifties Chicago sound, albeit somewhat heavy on slow blues numbers. Tracks like ‘Let It Rock’ and ‘Bye Bye Johnny’ undoubtedly still “rock”. However, the key difference lies in innovation. Through the mid-1950s, Berry consistently found new ways to rock – fresh chord progressions, catchy vocal hooks, different personas. Rockin’ At The Hops marks the point where that wellspring of novelty simply ran dry. Whether due to external pressures, personal fatigue (“too pooped to pop?”), or simply the exhaustion of his initial creative burst, the album signifies a turning point, capturing a legend grappling with the challenge of sustaining revolutionary momentum.