(CN) - Scotty Moore, the iconic guitarist who shaped Elvis Presley's sound and, as much as anyone, kicked off the rock revolution that followed, died Tuesday at his home in Nashville. He was 84.
Moore, a member of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, was the last survivor of a combo that included Presley, bassist Bill Black, and he in the tiny main room at Sun Studios in Memphis when an inspired bit of foolishness on Elvis's part became a keystone of the rock and roll era.
Producer Sam Phillips was changing a tape in the control room when Presley launched into a restless "That's Alright, Mama." Moore and Black joined in, and stunned by what he heard, Phillips pressed play on a recording machine, capturing lightning in a bottle.
Told of Moore's death Tuesday night, Presley's ex-wife, Priscilla Presley, said "Elvis loved Scotty dearly and treasured those amazing years together, both in the studio and on the road.
"Scotty was an amazing musician and a legend in his own right. The incredible music that Scotty and Elvis made together will live forever and influence generations to come," she said.
In remembrance , Courthouse News offers this interview with Moore conducted in 1999:
Even after all these years, Scotty Moore can still hear the young girls screaming at the swivel-hipped singer in his band.
"You know that swooosh sound you hear sometimes when you dive into the water?," said Moore, 67 at the time of the interview, as he recalled a string of raucous concerts that began nearly 45 years ago and continued almost unabated for the next three years.
"Well, the crowds would get so loud sometimes that that was all you heard. It was literally just like being under water," he continued, his voice and facial expression a mixture of amusement and awe.
"Now, I've said this many times over the years, but I really do think we were the only band ever that was literally directed by the singer's rear end," Moore laughed. "Because we would take cues from Elvis' movements when we couldn't hear what he was singing"
For years, Scotty Moore resisted requests for interviews, his reticence fueled by opportunists and unscrupulous writers he believed exploited Elvis Presley's sad decline and premature death for salacious headlines and profits.
During the mid-1980s, Moore's response to an interview request was typically a simple "No," followed by a gentlemanly, "I hope you understand."
Moore had given up the musician's life by then, but friends — among them Chet Atkins — encouraged him to pick up his guitar again.
"As you might imagine, I was pretty rusty for awhile," he said in the early 1990s, when the late night jokes about Elvis' later weight and substance abuse began to wane and a new appreciation of Elvis' music began to emerge.
The re-evaluation has been good for Moore, because in a very real sense — though Elvis' voice and incendiary early image continues to make the cash registers ring — the early seminal hits belong as much to the guitarist as to the man who stood alongside so many years ago.