Jerry Lee Lewis is a paradox: the Killer who's also a survivor; the choir boy who transformed into The World's Greatest Sinner. But of all the tensions embodied by a man who was, at his peak, arguably both the greatest and most dangerous popular musician of his generation, the most compelling of all may be musical. What does it mean for somebody to be both a traditionalist and an innovator? To define their time while somehow existing outside of it? To pay dues to the past while looking towards the future?
