Hurry Up Cinderella: A Raw Slice of 1959’s Rock ‘n’ Blues Chaos
Alright, let’s cut the crap. Paul Marvin’s Hurry Up Cinderella is one of those albums that doesn’t try to be fancy—it just punches you in the gut with its raw energy and keeps you hooked. Released back in ’59 under Ron Records (yeah, not exactly a household name), this sucker blends rock, blues, rhythm & blues, doo-wop, and rock 'n' roll into something messy but unforgettable. It’s like someone threw all their favorite sounds into a blender and hit puree—imperfect, sure, but damn tasty.
First off, let’s talk about “Cinderella.” This track slaps harder than most songs from that era because it's got this greasy swagger to it. The guitar licks are sharp enough to slice bread, and Marvin’s voice? Dude sounds like he gargled gravel before stepping up to the mic. You can practically smell the cigarette smoke wafting through some smoky dive bar as this tune plays. What sticks with me isn’t just how catchy it is—it’s the attitude. Like, screw waiting around for your prince charming; hurry up already! That urgency hits different when you’re knee-deep in life’s chaos.
Then there’s the title track, “Hurry Up,” which feels like an adrenaline shot straight to the heart. It barrels forward with zero chill, drums pounding like they’ve got something to prove. There’s no time for breathers here—it’s go-go-go until the wheels fall off. And honestly? That’s why I remember it. It’s relentless, almost desperate, like Marvin knew his moment was fleeting and he had to grab hold while he could. By the end, you’re left sweaty and slightly disoriented—but hey, isn’t that what good music should do?
Look, Hurry Up Cinderella ain’t perfect. Some parts feel stitched together haphazardly, like Marvin didn’t care if everything matched perfectly as long as it made noise. But maybe that’s the charm. In a world obsessed with polish and perfection, this album reminds us that sometimes grit and guts matter more.
Here’s the kicker though—listening to this now makes me wonder: would anyone even take a risk like this today? Probably not. And that kinda sucks. So crank it loud, let the imperfections rattle your speakers, and thank whatever gods you believe in that guys like Paul Marvin once existed to shake things up.
