The Corner tonight is gorgeously nostalgic for real rock and roll. There are the fans who remember going to proper dances; there’s an arcing group of tables and chairs in the shadow of the small side stage, a smattering of blue jeans and denim or polo shirts tucked in over middle-aged spreads. Fans in the crowd who came to see her to live their younger dreams again. There’s the Nouveau Rockabilly’s—the younger generation of guys and dolls with immaculate duck tails and amazingly durable rolled fringes, kerchiefs, sleeveless cowboy shirts, sailor girl tattoos, polka dots, skulls and crossbones, sweet frocks. This is the crowd that Wanda Jackson goes on to thank for ‘giving me my career back.’

This lady played with Carl Perkins, Johnny Cash, Jerry Lee Lewis, Buddy Holly and Elvis Presley: back in the day of showcase tours, Cadillac rides and soc-hops. And tonight even the mic breaks are sepia toned as after the rockin’ support from Itchy Fingers and Victor O’Neil (King of Rockabilly & The Straight 8’s). a golden oldies baritone intones ‘We’ll be right back with Waaaanda Jacksooonnn.’

A warm and enthusiastic crowd welcomed the Queen of Rockabilly; resplendent in silver sequin coat and a curly black ’do that the Golden Girls would have killed for. But the voice—that raw growl that reminds you she was the first lady doing rock and roll back in the day. While other girls were do-wopping and singing about puppies and love and shit like that, she ‘had to write my own, girls!’

Wanda comesfrom an era when you played songs right the first time. Acetate wasn’t cheap after the war and record companies spending millions on studio times and promotion was inconceivable.

You aimed to do it once. This is the apprenticeship you see played out with Wanda Jackson on stage. The sound in The Corner feels like the original juke joint ‘piana’ cut from an old 45 with a 20-year-old Wanda on the front—sassy and assured. I enhanced this by maintaining a perch on the tiny corner ledge at the opposite end of the room. I feared if I got too close it would turn into another of those moments like when I got up close to the Violent Femmes and realised they weren’t 20 anymore. Which meant I wasn’t 20 either.

Rock Your Baby hears a naughty, dirty growl which everyone sings along to. It’s hard to reconcile the voice to the lady—this woman looks at though she could be running the senior’s choir, but I daresay Wanda has got a few more ribald jokes and amazing stories than your average inner-suburbs nanna would. ‘It’s so good to be back at The Corner Hotel,’ she says. ‘I have never made one penny in my life that I didn’t get from singing. Isn’t that amazing?’

Snippets of her life punctuate her evening, ‘Daddy taught me guitar and traveled with me ’til I was married.’ Then cheekily, ‘I guess I always needed a man around.’ An ode to Jimmie Rodgers, Blue Yodel #6 , brings the yodeler out in her and with a beautiful country guitar, harp, double bass and loose, jangly keys.

Wanda launched into It Wasn’t God Who Made Honky Tonk Angels , a Hank Thompson with a gorgeous eulogy dedicating the tune to ‘‘My mentor, my lifelong friend, gone last year. The world lost a great entertainer, I lost a beloved friend.’ Neither her voice nor her band once faltered.

After a rousing rendition of _Heartbreak Hotel_—a nice cover for her old mate Elvis, who purportedly encouraged her to look to rockabilly in the first place—Wanda brings out the big guns. Fujiyama Mama (‘We won the war and this still went number one in Japan, but not America,’ she muses.) By this point the crowd were getting a bit loose and several people shooshed their friends each time Ms Wanda spoke. The B-Side that became a hit was Tunnel of Love and the Nouveau Rockabilly’s were herewith credited with unearthing this one and forcing her to ‘re-learn it.’ The distinctive voice with a raw hint of yodel married a dirty surf rock, rockabilly guitar and keys.

Her adoring fans went wild, so the lady of the hour progressed to the A-Side which, despite the fact that she wrote it for Brenda Lee, became Wanda’s ‘signature song.’ A timeless voice, not a crackle, not a weak point—which you would be forgiven for expecting.

She brought the Riot in Cell Block #9 and followed with a true homage to gospel before steadying herself with the bass players forearm and heading off stage to await her ‘encore’. Back she came, delivering a show stopping medley—dragging her voice over gravel and then assuming the most sweet and innocent of tones, almost to the point of novelty—including Jerry Lee’s Whole Lotta Shakin’ like it should be. A proper, glorious rock and roll ending to the showcase of ‘the devil’s music.’