On the road. Day four. Part two. The spot where he stood

Where were we?

We'd ordered an Uber. J dropped Jules a line (swapped numbers in the queue for Graceland, me and Paul didn't get round to it until the last day in New Orleans), let her know we'd ordered. They were just about to order. We sat, waited for ours, watched them get into theirs. Which seems the wrong order.

That light rain that fell as we stood at the graves? By 4, while we were in the Uber. it was a monsoon. Our driver was lovely. Her profile said she liked to meet new people, liked to chat. She missed our turn off for Sun Studio because we were having a gab. So we got to see a lot of Memphis. An incredible hospital built by an incredibly famous actor. I didn't want to ruin the conversation by pointing out that his fame hadn't actually translated to England. But that's sound, they probably haven't heard of Ken Barlow. 

We park up. I start to step out. Point out to J that she should watch the puddle (which is massive). Our driver's not having this, she's not letting us get out until she finds a spot where we won't get soaked in some way. She's brilliant. Five stars and a nice tip, obviously.

The photo's taken later. After the rain. The thing you need to know is:

I didn't look up. Not going in (when we were concentrating on getting out of the rain) or coming out (when we were talking to the lovely Australian lad who took the photo for us). I didn't look up. At the bloody massive guitar hanging over our heads, which just happens to be one of THE landmarks in the history of music. 

Sun is everything. The upstairs with the complete rebuild of Dewey Phillips' (no relation to Sam, the legendary owner of the Memphis Recording Company) radio studio. The downstairs with Marion Kaiser's desk, the desk where she greeted a seventeen year old trucker who wanted to record a song for his mother. Marion's own copy of 'That's Alright' sitting on the turntable where Dewey first played out the new sound of this absolute unknown local kid. The amp from the recording of Rocket 88 (which, as we all know, is THE first rock'n'roll single). The torn amp with the paper stuffed in it that gave us distortion for the first time.

Down to Marion's office, where Elvis entered. Where Johnny entered, where Jerry Lee entered. Where The Big O entered. Where Howlin' Wolf entered. Where everyone entered. And we're into what J's cousin Tony described as 'the Bethlehem of Rock'n'Roll. 

The studio itself. The spot where Scotty Moore stood marked with an X. The spot where Bill Black stood, marked with an X. The sweet spot for every vocalist. The spot where Elvis stood on the day that the three of them messed round during a break and invented the rest of history. Two pieces of black gaffs tape crossed over shouldn't be enough. But it is.

The original floor, original wall tiles, ceiling tiles. 1954 incarnate. Preserved perfectly in what is still a working studio. You can feel it. You can feel everything. 

Photographing guitars (with J's phone, my battery's gone). Photographing pianos, keys, the 68 Ludwig (I think) kit that Larry Mullen Jnr left behind when they recorded When Love Comes To Town and Angel Of Harlem in the room.

Then, after the guide has taken us through everything, he talks about the real treasure. The treasure that's been hiding in full sight all along. He reaches to the right. To the mic stand that he's been stood by for nearly ten minutes, places it in front of him.

This. Is the mic. The actual mic. The one that everyone used. Sam Phillips kept it. And when he was coming to the end of his life, he left it to the studio/museum. With one proviso. That it not sit in a glass case, that it not be treated as sacred. That people be allowed to touch. That everyone be allowed to touch it. 

So, for the next ten minutes we do. All of us, one at time, two at a time. As many photos as we want.

Unique. Incredible.

(Tea in the hotel - a 'Night With Jack' for me: Shrimp, Pork, Steak, all in various Jack Daniel's sauces and a rather fantastic - and not inexpensive - bottle of Primitivo. And as we're eating this very wonderful meal, we're talking about all the little coincidences that brought us to meet Paul and Jules and how amazing the links were between us. And they walked right past the window at that exact point)

Bed by 10, up at 7.

Nothing from J today in the book, I have a feeling I may find a revisit on some of these points from J's perspective in the next few days - look forward to them, they'll be like this but with actual emotion attached)

Current listening as I'm writing: