Lost Masterpiece Found!

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The story of how The Kentucky Churchmens Trio’s 1947 masterpiece LP, The Only Book Learnin’ That You Need Is Bible Book Learnin’, came about is astonishing, really. Vocalist Elmer Huckleberry, saxophonist Roscoe Duff, pianist Billy Bob Hitler, standup bassist Eustice B Small, and drummer Cletus Co*oter were really just your average, everyday good old boys from Yakville. They shared musical talent and a love of the Lord. They shared a love of the Gospel music of the day: Pat Boone, Jimmy Davis, Tennessee Ernie Ford, George Bennard, and though they would never have admitted it publicly at the time, both Ray Charles and Al Green. It was through the secular music of gospel acts they admired, such as Elvis Presley and Johnny Cash, and though they would never have admitted it publicly at the time, both Ray Charles and Al Green. The boys honed their craft playing Yakville’s weekly God I Love Jesus SockHop, dreaming of the day The Kentucky Churchmens Trio could hit the road and spread the Word to the masses. Those plans, rather fortunately as it turned out, were put on hold once America entered World War II on the side of the Allies. The duty-bound lads enlisted in the Airborne (saddled with a rather unfortunate surname, Billy Bob was drafted without the chance to volunteer, but stated that he would have anyway,) and parachuted behind enemy lines in France on the night of June 5th, 1944. Natural leader Huckleberry volunteered to be first man out of the plane, using his soothing voice to calm the troops by singing Lee Greenwood’s “God Bless the USA” as he leaped from the back of the C-130. The Boys from Yakville fought their way into Paris, helping to liberate that romantic city, handing out French-language Bibles the entire way. While many troops continued the push into Germany, the Yakville unit was ordered to stay put as part of the Occupational Force. Hoping to locate a good SockHop to play, Elmer, Roscoe, Billy Bob, Cletus, and Eustice B. Small happened across a hip, smoky club, where a grateful-for-liberation-yet-somehow-still-snooty doorman informed them that they could wear socks inside if they absolutely must, and it was Miles Davis and his band performing his latest album, Kind of Blue. “Le Bible,” the doorman kept insisting. “Le Bible.” The Trio immersed themselves in the Parisienne jazz clubs for the duration of the war, soaking in the sounds, the sights, the scents, the FEEL of the various venues, having clumsy conversations about Jesus in clumsy French with clumsy-English-speaking French people. After the war, the members of The Kentucky Churchmens Trio soundproofed Billy Bob’s basement with stacks of French Bibles, hunkered down, and set about creating this. This masterpiece. Songs about The Bible. Songs about reading The Bible. Songs about talking about The Bible. Songs about using The Bible as a pillow because you are worn out from building a costly addition onto your home so you’ll have a cozy, yet hip and French and jazzy, room dedicated solely to just spending time with The Bible, just getting to know it on a personal level, just BEING with it. And songs about how you can now partially read the French-Language Bible For Dummies. Huckleberry, occasionally singing in crude French, ranges from lovely whispers to Sinatra-crooning to bombastic moments where he sings with the passion of a man literally trying to rip Satan out of his (Huckleberry’s) body singlehandedly, no Exorcism necessary. Depending upon which tune, Hitler can play “under” the melody, very Bill Evans-like, but can crash the ivories as loudly, coldly, and efficiently as any "Ride of the Valkyries"-influenced gospel jazz pianist ever could. There are moments when this thing totally threatens to become a Bible-fueled 100mph Hot Rod to a Bible Reading/SockHop/Jazz Show, others where that same Hot Rod is being driven in a more reflective matter, speed limits being obeyed because the driver is reading The Bible while driving. Those passages are also the very birth of Avante Garde Gospel Jazz: for some reason, drummer Cletus Co*ter eschewed using brushes during the record’s more quiet sections. He really puts some serious hurtin’ into those skins, a ferocity rarely seen in Gospel Jazz, and, even rarer for 1947, Co*ter somehow managed to get an effect that made it sound as if he were pounding on Bibles instead of drums. Highly recommended.