Why Eric Burdon and The House of the Rising Sun Still Matters

Why Eric Burdon and The House of the Rising Sun Still Matters

Ever walked into a dive bar and heard that haunting, circular A-minor guitar riff? You know the one. It starts like a warning and ends like a funeral. Most people think they know the story. They think it's just another 1960s British Invasion hit. Honestly, they’re wrong. Eric Burdon and The House of the Rising Sun didn't just top the charts; it basically invented a genre and accidentally pissed off Bob Dylan so much he changed music forever.

It's 1964. The Beatles are cute. They’re singing about holding hands. Then comes Eric Burdon, a 23-year-old kid from a coal-mining town called Newcastle, sounding like he’s lived three lifetimes in a New Orleans gutter. He didn't just sing the song. He howled it.

The 15-Minute Take That Changed Everything

Most bands spend months in the studio trying to find "the sound." The Animals didn't have months. They didn't even have an afternoon. On May 18, 1964, the band stopped at De Lane Lea Studios in London between tour dates with Chuck Berry. They were exhausted.

They recorded the whole thing in one take.

Fifteen minutes. That’s all it took to capture what is arguably the most famous folk-rock recording in history. Producer Mickie Most didn't even want to record it. He thought it was too long for the radio. At nearly four and a half minutes, it was a monster for an era of two-minute pop fluff. But the band knew. They’d been playing it as their closer on the Chuck Berry tour, and the crowd reaction was terrifyingly good. People were leaving the theater singing the melody.

What actually happened in that room?

Hilton Valentine started with that arpeggio. He basically took a chord sequence he'd heard on a Bob Dylan record and turned it into a spinning, hypnotic cycle. Then you have Alan Price. He wasn't even supposed to play that iconic organ solo—he'd originally wanted Hilton to strum the guitar like a traditional folk song. They fought about it. Price stormed off, came back, and eventually dropped in that pulsating Vox Continental organ part that makes the hair on your arms stand up.

The Song That Stole Bob Dylan's Thunder

There’s a legendary bit of rock lore here. Before the Animals, "House of the Rising Sun" was a folk standard. It had been recorded by Lead Belly, Woody Guthrie, and yes, Bob Dylan on his 1962 debut.

When Dylan first heard the Animals’ version on his car radio, he reportedly jumped out and started banging on the hood of the car. He wasn't just impressed; he was floored. People started coming up to him after his shows saying, "Hey, I liked your cover of that Animals song."

Imagine being Bob Dylan and hearing that.

Burdon has said for years that he believes their electric, "disrespectful" take on the song is what pushed Dylan to go electric himself. It proved that you could take the "seriousness" of folk and give it the teeth and volume of rock and roll.

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The Mystery of the "House" Itself

Everyone wants to know: where is the house? If you go to New Orleans today, tour guides will point at a dozen different buildings. One's a boutique hotel. One's a museum. One's just a pile of bricks.

Burdon himself once visited a building on St. Louis Street that he was convinced was the real deal. It was owned by a woman named Marianne Soleil Levant (literally "Rising Sun"). It was a former brothel with a spiral staircase and murals painted with plant dyes. But the truth is more elusive.

Historically, the song was usually sung from a woman’s perspective. It was about a girl who followed a gambler to New Orleans and ended up in a "house of ill repute." The Animals changed the narrator to a man. Instead of being a fallen woman, he's a guy whose life has been ruined by drink and gambling.

  • The Vox Continental: That thin, reedy organ sound wasn't a Hammond. It was a portable Vox, and it’s the reason the song sounds so eerie.
  • The 6/8 Time: Most folk versions were a standard 4/4. The Animals shifted it to 6/8, giving it that swaying, "drunken" feel.
  • The "Levi Jeans" Line: Eric changed the lyrics to mention "Levi jeans" to make it feel more contemporary.

Why the Royalties Sparked a Decades-Long Feud

If you look at the original record label, the arrangement credit goes to Alan Price. Just Alan Price.

Why? According to the band, they were told there wasn't enough room to print all five names. Since Alan's name was first alphabetically, they just put his. This meant that for decades, only Price got the massive royalty checks from a song they all built together.

It broke the band. It’s one of the great tragedies of rock history—one of the most perfect songs ever recorded became the very thing that tore the musicians apart.

Actionable Insights for Music Lovers

If you want to truly appreciate the depth of Eric Burdon's impact, don't just stop at the 1964 hit. Here is how to deep-dive into the "Rising Sun" rabbit hole:

  1. Listen to the Dave Van Ronk version. He was the "Mayor of MacDougal Street," and his arrangement is the one Dylan "borrowed" and the Animals eventually electrified.
  2. Compare the Mono vs. Stereo mixes. The original mono single has a punch and a "wall of sound" quality that the later stereo remasters sometimes lose.
  3. Watch the 1964 Ed Sullivan performance. You can see the sheer intensity in Burdon’s face. He isn't performing; he’s exorcising demons.
  4. Track the Evolution. Find the 1937 field recording by Alan Lomax of a girl named Georgia Turner. It’s raw, haunting, and shows just how far the song traveled before it reached a studio in London.

Eric Burdon didn't just sing a song about a house in New Orleans. He built a bridge between the old world of acoustic storytelling and the new world of electric rebellion. It’s loud, it’s messy, and it’s still one of the greatest things ever put to tape.