Billy Gibson or Blues History--Part 6

A few years back my family and I (including my Mom) decided to take a road trip to see my brother Rusty (he's known as Tom in Tennessee) and his wife Beth in Memphis. So, we planned out a trip during mine and the son John's Spring Break from school. I was really excited to visit Memphis and check out Beale Street.

Before leaving town, I thought that I would try and check out where Mississippi Blind Morris or Billy Gibson might be playing. They were the only two harp players that I was familiar with who might be around the town somewhere. I couldn't find an itinerary, but I did find an e-mail address for Billy and wrote him, introducing my self and the fact that I was visiting his fair city and wanted to catch his band somewhere. I knew Billy's playing from a group called the Junkyardmen and was impressed with him. He considerately e-mailed me back and told me of his Sunday night gigs at the Rum Boogie Club (which I'd heard about from my brother) and he said be sure and bring some harps--that we'd have fun. I replied that I'd try to catch up with him, but that I wasn't sure about packing harps to his gig. He wrote back and encouraged me to do so.

We blew into town and Rusty & Beth proceeded to show us a fine time. We travelled over to Beale on a Saturday evening and strolled a street packed with tourists and designed for tourists. At feeding time, the decision was to eat at their favorite steak place (name eludes my right now). It seemed to be everyone else's favorite
also, because the line spilled onto the sidewalk and down a ways. I asked about Rum
Boogie's food and they said it was great stuff too and I mentioned that Billy had told me he and his guitarist, David Bowen, had an acoustic duo spot on Saturdays and that maybe we should just eat there and listen to some good tunes and maybe meet Billy Gibson. Agreed by all and all were simply amazed at the talent of Dave & Billy. And all agreed (including myself) that it might not be wise to step up on stage with such a player.

Billy came over to our table during his break and introduced himself since I had a Texas A&M cap on my head, he figured that I was the Texan that had e-mailed him. He emphasized again to bring my harps out for the Sunday show to play a tune with his electric outfit. I look at him a little timidly and said something like, "Oh, now, I don't really know about doing that." He said, "Sure, it'll be fun." Yeah, right.

At my brother's house I did see that Blind Mississippi Morris was playing in what Beth said was an upscale club. We left the Rum Boogie to go and check him out. The club was upscale, with white table cloths and, after we were seated, a drink menu that was pretty extravagantly priced. Before we ordered anything, I asked about Blind Mississippi Morris and was told that, no, he wasn't playing that night--to the relief of us all.

My brother and I went back over to the Rum Boogie on Sunday night and the Billy Gibson Band was in mid-1st set and they were smokin', especially Billy's harp playing. The dinner crowd had most the tables near the stage, so we took a seat at the bar. After the first set, Billy and Dave found me and we talked harps and stuff. Dave and Billy were both from Mississippi and Dave talked about growing up around the blues, but that Billy knew more about the music overall than he did (I think that's a white boy thang).

Billy asked me if I'd brought out the A and the D harp that he said to pack and I said, "Yeah, but I have seriously reconsidered getting up there."

"Hey, you'll do fine and it'll be fun, I'll get you up during the next set," he countered. Yeah, fun. It'll be fun. Okay, this is for fun.

The Billy Gibson Band plays the funkiest type of blues that you're likely to ever hear and those of you who have heard them, know exactly what I'm talking about. It is owed in large part to the funky rhythm section of drummer Cedric Keel and bassist James Jackson. Brother Rusty had located us a table down close to the stage and we settled in for a real treat. The first set was just a preamble of what the band was going to kick out that night. Of course, I sat there with a bit of butterflies floating around and watching Billy kick it up a notch with each song didn't help matters.

Well, the set ended and actually to my relief, without me being called out to put up or shut up. I was willing to shut up at that point. Billy and Dave came over and joined us at our table with apologies for not calling me up. Billy said that he was giving Dave the high sign to call in the sub, which Dave said that he missed and they rolled straight into the set ender. Cedric joined us and was delighted to find out that I was a teacher. He said that he was taking course work towards a similar goal. I voiced my reluctance once more to joining them on stage and Cedric said, "Hey, we enjoy people sitting in with us. I'll be fun."

A few folks at adjoining tables had overheard the conversation and wanted to know, "What are you thinking? You're really considering following this guy?"

I said, "Yeah, they raise some kind of fools down in Texas, don't they. We just don't know any better."

Billy had told me to bring my A harp up with me. I had an A harp in one boot and a D harp in the other. I really didn't want to walk in with a case of harps in my hand. I slipped the A into my shirt pocket and watched Billy get the crowd pumped with his exquisite tone and at times, rapid fire delivery. I think I made a sign of the cross, praying that he wouldn't get me up after he spent the last three minutes of a song absolutely torching the crowd with solo to die for--I think my hair was being blown back by his sheer force and then I heard Dave say, "We have us a bluesman from Texas in the house and he's a school teacher, so you know he has the blues. Come on up here Rick." Oh, right, after that display?

Billy ask me whether I wanted to go through the vocal mic or his amp and I chose the amp and he left the stage, saying something about the mic being touchy. Dave said, "Let's do I've Got My Mojo Working in A." Okay, oops, wait a minute, I've got an A in my hand for the key of E. So, I had to dig down in my boot and fish for my D harp.

"Now, this is a real Texan that carries his harps in his boots," said Dave and off we went.

The mic was a bit touchy, so I had to listen for feedback, but I worked it okay. Dave threw me plenty of solo space and I knew that I wasn't going to be Billy Gibson, so I just did Ricky Bush and came off alright. The crowd gave me a standing ovation--I figured to support the fool up there and it was 3/4 into the last set and alcohol is a great equalizer when it comes to judging talent. Billy came back up and high fived me and said great job.Rusty had never heard me before, so he was duly impressed, as were the folks around us. As I headed to the restroom, the gal who ran the soundboard told me what a fine job that I had done and that there were very few people who had the guts to get up on stage after Billy Gibson. Whether it was guts or foolishness, I got to play on Beale Street.

So, it was fun! They were right and it'll aways stick out as one of the highlights of my harmonica playing. The real treat was meeting and hearing Billy and his fine band. I can't believe that I haven't posted up about this trip. Rusty and Beth moved away from Memphis and back to Texas, but now they are back in Memphis, so another road trip is in order.

Billy has several CDs available. I think Live at the Rumboogie really captures the band well, but the studio release of The Billy Gibson Band is fine also.I think the newest is called Southern Livin' and is especially funky. If you want a great visual representation of what these guys put down, then check out The Prince of Beale Street Billy Gibson--Live At The North Atlantic Blues Festival (pictured above). They really stretch out and get the grooves happening on it. Don't pass up his work as a young pup with the Junkyardmen. I don't know if hard copy CDs are still out there, but I do believe that iTunes has it available. Check CDbaby for the CDs or Amazon. Anyway--'nuff for now.

Blues Education--Pt.5

There were limited publications on the market for the harmonica player, relative to any other musical instrument. The American Harmonica News Magazine was just about it and Al Eichler and his editor Phil Lloyd produced it as a labor of love and almost as a service for us harp players. They happily accepted article submissions from just about anyone that had something to share with the harmonica public. I began to submit music reviews and such to them and did so for a long period of time. I felt that I was becoming a part of this community that found importance in the instrument and it opened doors to interviews with real live harp guys.

I began to feel that I was finding my way around the blues harp pretty well and felt that I was getting it down. What I lacked was any feedback from other harp players telling me that I was or was not. In the Eddie C. Campbell post, I detailed my first experience playing amplified harp from a stage in front of people. Here I was, on stage with "Real Deal" Chicago bluesmen playing Little Walter's Blues With A Feeling to a bunch of Aggies who had no idea who Little Walter was or for that matter Eddie C. Campbell. They were just in a club in downtown Bryan, Texas to have a good time and Eddie C was giving it to 'em. They gave me a big whoop for my efforts and the compliments from the band, including the harp player Mark Cihlar convinced me that maybe I could do this thing.

I had no amplifier nor microphone nor band to play it with, so I didn't exactly rush out shopping. Then, out of the blue (or blues), a guitarist by the name of Craig Watts called me and asked about my harmonica playing. I forget who told him that I played, but he was working some things up with a singer/guitarist from over in Giddings with thoughts of getting a blues band together. He invited me to drop by his house and do a little jamming.

Craig had a little shack in back of his house that served as his musical woodshed and when I dropped by he had the "Holy Grail" of harp amps sitting in there for me to play. I didn't know a lot about amplifiers that were conducive for coaxing good harp tones, but I had read and researched enough to know that an original '59 Fender Bassman was among the cream of that tonal crop. I didn't have a mic, so I blew through what I remember as being a Shure 58 vocal mic and we played a rather subdued volume--so the Bassman wasn't really whomping the tone that day (I did blow through it with a JT30 on a subsequent trip and the first note that I hit proved the hype was true). After the little backyard meeting, Craig invited me back over for a jam party attended by musician friends from Austin and the local area, one of those being Virgil Brawley. Can't remember the Giddings' vocalist/guitarist first name, but his last name was McBride and he was pretty talented, but it was Virgil's singing that impressed me the most.

Prior to this little jam session, local guitar hero Neil Kulhanek sold me my first amplifier to get me on the tone road which I mentioned in the post called Chasing Down Tone. Neil is pretty close to my age and has been playing anything that has strings attached to it and doing it very well since he was an adolescent and has been playing professionally just about as long with just about everybody. We got to know each other when his Mom babysat my daughters for years. Today, when he is not working his bank job, he's leading the blues/classic rock trio, Neil and the Real Deal. Anyway, it was Neil that encouraged me to drag the amp out to a downtown Brenham club called Patios on a Thursday night and participate in a jam hosted by himself, Sam Murski (local guitar hero II) and Robert Zientek (local guitar hero III). So, I began to ease out into the world of jamming on stage. I still needed a decent harp mic and was invited by my high school principal to take three mics that I found in a storeroom. The best of the bunch was a Shure 545 with a Turner 254 desk mic (which I cut off its stand) running a close second. The Turner worked well until its element died (it now houses a nice crystal element).

Patios' jam nights were extremely friendly affairs and a great deal of what was being played was in the blues category or close to it. Robert Z is an ex-student of mine and he was happy that his ex-teacher was crawling on stage with him. Robert is much younger than Sam and Neal, but he followed along on the same path and was playing professionally while he was in my high school class. Decades of musical experience and talent was on hand directing the jammers. Sam had two bands going at the time called Earlywine, which leaned toward country and the Fireants, which leaned toward classic rock (he has neither today, but his recent bands have played both my daughter's wedding). Robert's band Route 4 was basically country, but would throw down classic rock when the crowd asked for it. These guys made made me feel way more than welcome and put up with my rookie status. Matter of fact, if another harp player wasn't in the house, then they kept me on stage. I wasn't that good, I hit the right notes most of the time, but ran out of ideas quickly and my tone needed mentoring and I needed a better harp amp (achieved and recount under the amps and thangs posts--the amp part anyway). I did learn a thing or two from all these guys during those days. Sam and Neil have allowed me to swap licks with their bands many times over the years.

During this same period Virgil Brawley and Craig "Bonehead" Watts began putting together the first incarnation of the Juvenators, which became the only band devoted strictly to playing blues within 50 miles of my house. I think that Virgil nicknamed Craig for his affinity towards T Bone Walker's stuff. Rounding out the initial core in this band was local veterans Jimmy Bernick on bass and Doug McCord on the drum kit and they also ran with a third guitarist from LaGrange whose name escapes me right now. He eventually slid away from them. An outstanding saxman, Cameron Scott, sat in frequently. They began booking clubs around Brenham, Somerville, Navasota, Giddings, College Station, etc...These guys were really turning into a good blues band. The best part was that they allowed me to sit in with them just about anytime that I wanted to do so. I still had a lot to learn, but I was doing just that. Washington County, Texas isn't made up of a plethora of blues fanactics, but they were beginning to catch on to what the Juvenators were laying down. The crowds were nowhere near what the established bands in the area could draw playing country music, but they were growing when Doug and Jimmy left the band leaving the Juvenators with an empty bottom.

The Juvenators' kept rolling and managed to get themselves booked at the first Navasota Blues Festival(1996) honoring Mance Lipscomb. Sam Murski's Fireants also were on the bill, so Washington County was well represented at what was a long overdue tribute to one of the masters of the music. Oh, and the fact I just might get to honk on a couple of tunes was exciting.

I met one of the chief organizers of the festival, Richard Chase, who was originally from New York, but had followed Mance around learning his licks back in the day. He was checking out the Fireants at a local gig and we swapped stories and he convinced me to pitch in and help out with the promotional part of the fledgling festival. So, I interviewed and wrote up several of the artist's profiles for the program brochure and I went around Brenham tacking up promotional flyers. I'll get back to the festival story at some other time.

In the meantime, Virgil decided it was high time to move back to Mississippi to be closer to an ailing mother, so the Juvenators disbanded a couple of weeks before the festival. I do think that they would have found an extremely receptive audience, but it wasn't to be. Richard Chase really believed that the acts booked represent a little eclectic spirit because Mance was a songster and not strictly a bluesman. I ended up being talked into opening the show with Allison Crowson, who is a great country crooner and the closest we got to the blues was Patsy Cline's Walking After Midnight. I had to stretch a bit, but I could claim that I played on stage there. (Allison's was an ex-student of mine, who eventually became my assistant pricipal, who eventually joined a band with Sam and played my daughter's wedding.)

The highlight of that first festival was meeting Sonny Boy Terry, who was Houston's premier bluesharp man. I introduced myself as a writer for American Harmonica News Magazine (which I was) with an interest in writing a piece about him (which I did) and we've been close friends every since. Most important for me, though, was that I found out just exactly what seperated me from the BIG BOYS--TONE. Sonny Boy wasn't playing through an amplifier--he was going straight into the p.a. with a vocal mic and from the sound of his very first lick he was putting down exactly what I was missing. He was getting some kind of fat stuff happening and he didn't need an amplifier to do it. Here was the REAL DEAL. I had seen Charlie Musselwhite a couple of years earlier, so I knew what a pro sounded like, but Sonny Boy showed me then and there just how much of a rookie I was. Anyway, 'Nuff for now--

Hot Nights, Cool Tunes

Blues Education Pt. 4-- The Blues Harp

So, after the movie Crossroads convinced me that I should re-visit my interest in the harmonica, I went out and bought a Hohner Marine Band 10 hole diatonic version of the instrument--which is what the real men played on those vintage tunes. Of course, it was about all that was available back then and it was all that was available to me in small town Texas. They all came with a little booklet of campfire tunes which could be replicated note for note by all but the talentless, which unfortunately applied to me. One of the first steps in playing the thing was to get a single note sounding from one hole and for the life of me I could not do it. The illustrated two methods, of puckering around the hole or tongue blocking out all but one hole, just would not work. My sound was coming from two, three or four holes, producing a chord of notes instead to just the one--which pretty much was the way I played it as a kid. I really could not understand why I was having such a problem and frustration began to rear its ugly head, but I didn't want to give up. Pretty sure that my wife was hoping that I would, because what I was coaxing out of the thing was hardly musical.

Then, one night as I was fooling around, I curled my tongue slightly as I sucked on the holes and Voila! I pulled a single note out to the thing and it didn't sound too bad at all. I commenced to sucking and blowing and soon was able to play through the little pamphlet songs of Oh, Suzanna type tunes with decent command of the notes. What I needed now, was some kind of instruction to get me to where I wanted to get to--and that was playing the blues. I was hit with the same problem that I had when first began looking for blues music. There was little out there to show me the way. The internet, with all its resources, was yet to come. I found absolutely zilch in the local music shop in regards to playing the harmonica, but did find a rudimentary Mel Bay songbook for harmonica over in College Station. It contained a few more campfire songs, but it did have St. James Infirmary and Amazing Grace which were relatively bluesy. It also contained a short section explaining that I was playing in what is known as first position (or straight harp), which meant that I was playing my key of C harmonica in the key of C and in which all the songs in the book were written. Good for melodic tunes, but lacking in the ability to get down with the bluesy notes that took drawing on the harp holes much more often than blowing on them and also enabling notes to be bent to achieve the soulful tones of the blues. This method was known as second position (or cross harp) and it changed the key of the music being played on the harmonica. This was the position that I needed to figure out how to play with my curled tongue method that I was quite sure that no one else on the planet used. I tried to play along with some of my recordings and seldom was in the correct key. It was soon apparent that I would need a box of harmonicas to do what I wanted to do. I can tell that this is already getting a little wordy, but I'm just trying to set the tone--something I've been trying to master on the blues harp for over 20 years.

I didn't have a heck of a lot of albums that were harpcentric other than some of the few Muddy Waters albums with Little Walter on board and James Cotton on Vanguard. Most of Chess records vintage blues had gone out of print and when they sold out to GRT their catalog went to hell in a hand basket until MCA took control and righted that ship in the late '80s and began reissuing Muddy, Howlin' Wolf, Little Walter, Elmore James and other Chicago blues masters. They put out a series of Chicago blues compilations on cassette that represented outstanding collections of great music. One of my favorites was their The Blues Volume 6, 50's Rarities that had Little Walter backing many of the artists and an alternate take of Juke (his ground breaking, earth shattering instrument that put him and the amplified blues harp on the map). It also contains a nice Jimmy Reed harp solo outing on John Brim's Gary Stomp. I started out with my mail order collection by acquiring Alligator Records' James Cotton releases which were super. I think I mentioned that I had gotten their Johnny Winter's Guitar Slinger. This was not only a great guitar album, but it also introduced me to a great harpman in Billy Branch who was blowing his brains out on a number of the albums cuts. So, I began to gather a few examples of those that made a living playing the harmonica. Problem was that I could replicate very little of what I was hearing.

Every time I spotted a music shop that may just have a book on harmonica instruction, I would check it out. I came across a book about Sonny Terry by Kent Cooper that was chock full of tablature of the notes of many of his songs and it came with a little piece of floppy vinyl of the recorded tune--that was neat. I promptly made a copy to cassette and tried my best to emulate what Sonny was doing. It wasn't easy, but I improved a bit and could get some kind of blues stuff happening. Shortly after that I stumbled across Tony Glover's Blues Harp Songbook, which was a follow up of his instruction book that I couldn't find anywhere. The songbook didn't include any recorded music, but gave me a great list of music to track down by Little and Big Walter, Sonny Boy Williamson I&II, Jimmy Reed, Slim Harpo, Howlin' Wolf and pre-war cats like Jay Bird Coleman and Will Shade. It was still a frustrating trip trying to find any of these in print anywhere.

So, my enthusiasm would ebb and flow and my woodshedding would do the same and my progress suffered in the interim. I had a number of harmonicas, in the different keys needed to emulate the blues blasters and was getting better, but what became an added frustration was the fact that I would blow out one reed on a harp and that rendered it relatively useless. So, it seemed that the more I practiced, the more frequently a harp reed would blowout. I experimented with different Hohner offerings, such as the Blues Harp and the Special 20. I still managed to blow out a reed after awhile and it took years (and years) of practice to get a playing technique down that didn't stress the harp reeds as much and today I don't blow them out very often at all.

My practice interest increased after finding a copy of Jon Gindick's The Natural Blues and Country Western Harmonica (for the musically hopeless) instruction book. It was really the first book that offered instruction that could be easily understood by one such as myself. It cemented my understanding of the differences between 1st, 2nd and 3rd position playing and it gave many examples of blues riffs that I could successfully copy and it made practicing exciting. He also included a set of cassette tapes of him conducting the lessons, illustrating what the riffs actually should sound like and he did it all with a great sense of humor. This book provided a much needed epiphany or one of those Aha! moments. I followed this purchase with his Rock n' Blues Harmonica and subscribe to his Crossharp News, which was one of the first harmonica publications that I had seen. It always contained a tune complete with riffs tabbed out and had tips, guidelines and news related to the harmonica. He also added to my hit list of blues harp recordings that I needed to track down.

One of first prize recordings that I stumbled upon during this period was an LP of Little Walter's Confessin' The Blues with Italian liner notes. Chess/MCA re-released this on CD just a few years ago. This was the first collection of LW's stuff that I had been able to find. I had songs where he was represented on a compilations release or as a sideman, but not a complete collection of his as a leader. To tell you the truth, much of what I had been hearing from the early Chess records gave me the impression that poor recording techniques had been used in producing the harp tones that he and others played. This recording magnified that opinion. Actually, it took Rod Piazza's Harpburn to set me straight to this fact--that was what amplified blues harmonica playing was ALL about, achieving a tone that was in fact distorted for a purpose and on purpose. Suddenly, the horizon broaden.

I ordered all that Gindick offered over the next few months and anything thing else that I could find on the topic of playing harmonica. I also discovered the American Harmonica News Magazine and subscribed to it and soon began to write articles for it. The publisher, Al Eichler, never offered any payment because he made very little money producing what was a labor of love for him. I wrote a slew of blues music reviews about such harp players as Gary Primich, Ted Roddy, Johnny Sansone, Fingers Taylor, Sonny Boy Terry and even a Hungarian harp player until the magazine faded away (as I've posted before-I plan on finding those and resurrecting them here). I began to listen to and converse with "real, live" blues harmonica players. A new world had opened with another Aha! Anyway--'nuff for now.

Blues Education Pt. 3

Disco had pretty much nailed live music venues from the mid to late '70s in San Marcos, but the movement that started the Cosmic Cowboy wave continued rolling with the Outlaw country music of Willie, Waylon and the boys. Jerry Jeff Walker's was one of the most popular party bands on the college circuit and "Sangria Wine" was quite the sing-a-long tune. The Cheatham Street Warehouse kept the live scene going by booking him, Gary P. Nunn, Alvin Crow, Asleep At The Wheel, Ray Wylie Hubbard and others on occasion. In between these bookings were the wannabees. Willie Nelson played at one of the first city sponsored Chilympiad cook-offs way before he was a house-hold name and returned to headline several more (matter of fact, my first date with my wife was at a such a show). Gruene Hall, a short 15 miles from town, booked similar talent along with the likes of Doug Sahm, who was enjoying a quite a surge in popularity, along his Farfisa (or Vox as pointed out in the comment section) organ master Augie Meyers. The Getaway nightclub, named after the Steve McQueen movie filmed in town, kept local country bands employed. The Cheyenne Social Club opened up late in the decade a began packing the house with "stone" country bands, one of which continued reach unprecedented success.

Once upon a time, in one of my journalism classrooms, I got to know a fellow by the name of Ron Cable who asked me what I was up to for a particular evening. Not much, I told him. He said that a good band was playing at Cheatham Street and if I had nothing to do that I should show up and bring a few friends. We did and I saw fairly quickly why he wanted us to come out--he was the lead guitarist. Oh well, maybe he didn't tell me, thinking that I would doubt the talent of such a band and not show. It didn't take long at all for the front man's vocals to catch my attention. He had absolutely the best voice that I had ever heard live and in person. He was a cut above any of the acts that had been through this bar and he was a student at Southwest Texas State University. He told me that this was his first gig with the band and I told him how impressed I was with his singing and told him that his voice should take him somewhere--that was an understatement. Soon after that, The Cheyenne Social Club began booking The Ace and the Hole band with George Strait every Thursday night for a $3 cover charge. They soon became the hottest ticket in town.

So, country and western music more or less was ruling the day when I left San Marcos in 1979. There was a club called the Too Bitter which booked local guitar hero Van Wilks and other rock bands frequently. Krackerjack with Stevie Ray Vaughan and Tommy Shannon trekked in from Austin on occasion to liven up the club and create sparks, but not often enough. Still had to head over to the state capital to catch much in the way of blues and one club in particular became the Mecca for the music.

Sad to say that I made it to Antone's only once during my tenure in college. Clifford Antone was booking legends such as Muddy Waters, Hubert Sumlin, James Cotton, Lazy Lester and Buddy Guy. The problem was that ticket prices were normally $20 and up, during a time that few places asked more than $4 for a cover charge. Even the Armadillo World Headquarters, which was mashing musical genres together on one bill, rarely charged more than a $3 entry fee--even for ZZTop. I had sporadic transportation back then and seldom could convince anyone, that I knew, that a night at Antone's was worth the price and then a career move took me away.

I never dreamed that an interview with school officials with Brenham ISD would lead to a 29 year teaching career there, but they were desperately trying to fill a journalism position that sprang open in the middle of the summer of '79 and when I showed up the start of school was only a few weeks away--so I was hired and stayed on for the duration. I didn't expect to find much in the way of blues in the record bins in the one shop in town, so I was surprised to see Stevie Ray Vaughan staring at me from the cover of his inaugural release, Texas Flood. I knew that eventually someone would recognize that the boy had talent and would put it down on record. I didn't know just what impact his presence would mean to the blues world outside of Austin, Texas. The Fabulous Thunderbirds with Jimmy Vaughan had already been stirring the pot, but Stevie Ray boiled it over and a re-surgence in interest began and was prodded along by such nonsense as the Blues Brothers phenomenon. Not long afterward, I spotted the unmistakable tatooed torso of Johnny Winter on his Alligator records produced, Guitar Slinger, which put him back on the map that SRV was outlining. Johnny Winter was one of those blues/rock guys that I failed to mention earlier that impressed me in the early '70s. His Progressive Blues Experiment, with future SRV bassman Tommy Shannon, was a favorite of mine and included the harp playing of Big Walter Horton. He was hailed as a mighty guitar hero by the new rock rag Rolling Stone magazine and his career skyrocketed, but he applied his heroics to playing rock music which sold a bit better than blues. Substance abuse derailed his career and he returned to his true blues credentials in the late '70s and early '80s. He still played in his million notes a minute style, but it was all blues. What was most important to me about the Winter release was discovery of a record label devoted to blues music, albeit "house rocking" blues music, and which gave me a mail-order outlet for my music and clued me into the Living Blues magazine to which I promptly subscribed.

I began to build a blues library of music and literature beginning with receiving my first Alligator records catalog and also after discovering Frank Scott's Down Home Music (now called Roots and Rhythm) mail order company that sold plenty of blues titles. He also had an excellent blues review book entitled The Down Home Guide to the Blues, that provided excellent information for the blues neophyte in me. Soon I was reading about rural blues, urban blues, Chicago blues, Delta blues, and deep blues by researchers such as Robert Palmer, Paul Oliver, Peter Gulranick, Samuel Charters and Steven Calt and was becoming much more knowledgeable about the music that I fell for over a decade earlier. It was still difficult to get copies of what the critics termed "essential" blues albums because many were long out of print and the cassette format rapidly began replacing the vinyl record and tons of those records never made it to tape. I began to also discover the relatively new and small record labels such as Blind Pig, Blacktop, Flying Fish, and Rounder that carried a blues catalog of more recent artists. Living Blues magazine was soon joined by Blues Revue and Blues Access as major blues publication. All three subscriptions dented my budget.

Early in the '90s, when it seemed that the blues revival was waning, something very strange happened. Columbia Records decided to release the complete recordings of the great Robert Johnson's 1936-37 songs recorded in San Antonio and Dallas. In a short period of time, the bluesman's box set reach "Gold" record sales and major labels began combing their vaults for what they felt would amount to pre-war blues gold. It also stirred my interest in the old timers and pretty I gained an immense appreciation and fascination for Charlie Patton, Skip James, Blind Lemon Jefferson, Mississippi John Hurt, Reverend Gary Davis, Willie Brown, etc...and these recordings became readily available. So, I went way back in time and studied the music of the originators and was amazed at the depth of the music. The worldwide web sprang to life and suddenly my music had retailers online dedicated to the genre--life was good.

Eric Clapton kept the boost going by re-visiting his blues roots with 1994's From The Cradle on which he offered covers of classic electric blues from the likes of Otis Rush, Elmore James, Lowell Fulsom and others. He proved to his doubting record label that new blues recordings could prove profitable, as the release was one of his biggest sellers. He also praised blues veterans such as Buddy Guy and BB King and paired up with them on recordings and in concert. In recent years, he paid tribute to his main man Robert Johnson by cutting two different discs (one acoustic and one electric) and a dvd of the proceedings to high acclaim.

I regained my appreciation for the sound of the blues harmonica in the mid '80s when a movie called Crossroads that mixed blues fiction with fact and was filled with Hollywood hokum, but contained some great music. It was the first movie to highlight a story involving and including the blues, so I liked it. What caught my ear and yanked around on it the most was the harmonica playing of Sonny Terry and John "Juke" Logan, who provide the sounds for actor Joe Seneca character. It was at that point that I decided that I could do that and I set out to do it and have been trying to get it down ever since. Anyway--still to come: harpin' the blues.

Blues Education Pt. 2

Okay, now. Before leaving the nest and springing my small town self on the rest of the world, I had very few vinyl records (had the aforementioned Cream and some others from the top 40 ). The only turntable in the house was the family stereo console, which meant that I had limited access and when I did, few in the house wanted me to share my music with them. When I was a senior in high school (1969), I asked for a stereo cassette deck as an early graduation present, partially because no one I knew had one (they all had 8 track systems) and I could make copies and actually record myself, which I thought was pretty cool. I soon found, though, that cassettes were difficult to find as the new format on the market and I found myself having wait until I could make a trip to Houston and into a real record store to have any kind of selection available, but forget trying to locate a blues cassette. I would find one or two worthy additions to my new library with each trip and I procured cassettes by Led Zeppelin, Steppenwolf, and a group none of my friends had never heard of before (nor I). I picked up the Allman Brothers' Idlewild South that introduced me to "Hoochie Coochie Man" and to some of the finest blues licks that I had ever heard. I still think it's a fine version of that Muddy Waters hit. I was not really a "blues fan" yet, but those guys sold me with their level of musicianship. THEN--silence.

My first experience in the world of consumer electronics and customer service is one that would be repeated many times during my adult life. The Ampeg cassette deck died after three months on the job. I took it back to where I had bought it and they agreed to ship it off, but explained that it was out of warranty and I would have to pay the postage up front. Okay, whatever, just do it! So, it was shipped to California and sat waiting for a Japanese power supply for pretty close to a year. I won't even mention the number of long distance phone calls made during that period of time. So, I left for college with an appreciation of blues music and an understanding of what it was I liked, but without any blues to call my own.

I chose Southwest Texas State University in San Marcos as my future Alma Mater, not because it was ranked as one of the top party schools in the nation, but because of the influence of a teacher who spun tales of what wonderful experiences he had while in college there. Of course, the first experience I faced was adjusting to life in a dormatory and the diversity of personalities within. I began to gravitate to those that had extensive record collections and was introduced to such albums as Derek and the Dominoes, Layla; an album which contained some of the most emotional, heartfelt music that I had ever heard--mostly blues. I heard my first John Mayall, Fleetwood Mac (when they were a blues band), Savoy Brown, and numerous other groups that covered blues tunes and most of them were from England. A kid down the hall from me had Paul Butterfield's first album of great blues covers and, by golly, he was American and he soon became much better known for his appearance at Woodstock. Fairly soon, I began to run across students who owned actual blues album and a few who actually played blues guitar in their dorm rooms, so I began a sort of appreciation apprenticeship. The one guy in particular that impressed me the most, had a steel bodied Dobro on which he had mastered a wicked slide attack. He had a fantastic blues collection also. I would hang out at his spot for hours.

But for me, the epiphany came with the live music taking place around the San Marcos area during the '70s. Being that we were a short 30 miles down the road from Austin, the music found its way south. When I was a college freshman, San Marcos offered very few clubs with live music. It was in a semi-dry county in which citizens had to go through a ridiculous charade of joining a bar's members only club to drink mixed alcohol. So, most of the music we heard live was at frequent street dances and private keg parties. Freda and the Firedogs (known as Marcia Ball today) were the most popular street dance entertainment, along with acts like Greasy Wheels, St. Elmo's Fire, Shiva's Headband, and many others. A little blues seemed to be in the reportoire in most of the bands back then. The student center even booked that "little band from Texas" way before anyone knew who ZZTop was, except the 300 or so of us who showed to see them, for free with ID.

Then came the Storm. One night a few friends and I went to a hall out in the country that was rented out for a large keg party. As we waited outside the building to get in, I heard a knocked out version of "Hideaway" blasting through the walls and I thought, "Whoa, there is some kind of blues being played here tonight". When I walked through the door, I witnessed a skinny guitarist playing his soul out and then swapping leads with a second guitarist who mesmerized me on the spot. I pretty much ignored those that I came with and just flat soaked up what these guys were doing with the blues--which was playing the hell out of it. I didn't know until much later that these two guys were the brothers Vaughn--Jimmy and little bro Stevie.

After a couple of years in town, the legislature said it was okay to vote and drink at 18 and San Marcos became totally wet and wild(er). Clubs opened all over town and sprang to life. The Nickel Keg Saloon and Cheatham Street Warehouse became bastions of live music and Austin musicians began cycling through and some of those were connected with the blues, like Omar and the Howlers, Gatemouth Brown, and even Mance Lipscomb, until Disco tried to kill the living daylights out of live music (today it's Karaoke). Matter of fact, the first blues albums that found their way into my possession appeared in the parking lot of the Cheatham Street Warehouse one afternoon. I was shooting pool with a buddy and a poor soul walked in peddling his record collection for rent money (or so the story goes) and I followed him to his car's trunk filled with albums that he was selling for a dollar a piece. One box was jammed with the blues and I traded him a twenty dollar bill for my first pieces of blues history. All of a sudden, I had records by Muddy Waters, BB King, Albert King, Freddie King, Lightning Hopkins, and many more. I didn't have a turntable, but one of my roommates at the time did, so I gave him a dose of the blues. Those albums were the REAL entry point for me into the music and I never look back.

Disco did take its shot at live music. The Cosmic Cowboys rode to the rescue to save the day as a popular genre that could at least keep some of the clubs solvent. Blues took a back seat to Michael Murphy, Rusty Weir, Alvin Crow, Asleep at the Wheel, Jerry Jeff Walker, Willie Nelson, Doug Sahm, etc...who all packed San Marcos' clubs and halls. Countryish styles became the order of the day for most of the '70s. A young George Strait was beginning to catch on when I left town in '79 (got a story there, too).

There was a period, though, that we could find the music that we loved being played by those that loved it. Every once in a while, someone would get someone like Freddie King booked into a hall in town. I remember awakening one morning after one of his gigs and his tour bus was parked in front of our house. We lived in a large abode with eight guys upstairs and five females downstairs (seperate quarters) and it seems that some of the band members were invited to stay over (downstairs). Sometimes it took travelling north to Austin, to places such as the One Nite, the Hole in the Wall, Rolling Hills, Soap Creek Saloon, or the Rome Inn, but once we got there, we were duly rewarded with the best blues musicianship in the land. One of the groups we tried to catch most often was Paul Ray and the Cobras with Stevie Ray on guitar because they kicked the blues big time. A friend frequently invited me to Austin to hangout in an apartment that his girlfriend, who managed the complex, provided for the night. The apartments were adjacent to the Rome Inn and both were owned by the same guy. The Fabulous Thunderbirds were in residency at the Rome Inn, so we caught Kim Wilson, Jimmy Vaughn and crew frequently, and many times they made an appearance at the party room. None of these guys were stars and there were yet to be any recording contracts. They were just doing there thang for those of us who dug it. If I'd have known any of them would be famous, I'd have taken notes, pictures and gotten autographs. What the hey, I do have the memories. Maybe, it's a good thing that I'm jotting them down now. By the way, that's more of Son John's artwork attached to this article. Anyway--'Nuff for now.

Strange Brew In The Midnight Hour

The first harmonica notes that struck a chord with me, when I was about 11 years old, were from John Lennon's opening licks on "Love Me Do". Matter of fact, several of the early Beatles hits had harmonica highlights featured within the songs, but that first single had something bluesy going on with it. Their music didn't really grab me, but I was 11 and these were predominantly love songs that they were cranking out and I didn't want to hold anyone's hand. The 11 year old girls in the country made sure that they overshadowed every musical act on the planet, including Elvis (of course, by then Elvis was a movie star singing such pap as "It's Now or Never"). Those harp riffs did catch my attention, though.

I'm pretty sure that the first blues song that I ever heard was recorded by the Rolling Stones (the Beatles Evil Twin) and came blaring across the AM radio airwaves from Houston's KILT. I think I was on the crest of turning into a teenager when Mick Jagger sang "I'm a king bee/Buzzing around your hive", so its testosterone laced message resonated a little more than "She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah" and Mick was kicking it a little more in the harmonica department. They were also covering Willie Dixon songs, which of course we were completely clueless about at the time. My interest with the harmonica commenced then.

What I thought would be a simple sound to re-create never found its way out of my newly acquired Hohner Marine Band harmonica. It turned out to be an excellent model harp to learn the music on, but I could just not do it. Oh, it was easy to get going with the pamphlet of standard tunes that came with every harmonica, such as "Oh, Suzanna", "On Top of Old Smokey", "Red River Valley", etc...Even those, though, I could not coax single notes from the harp, so I played them as chords. I wore some of those tunes out and grew impatient and eventually gave up on trying. I knew no one who played the instrument, and certainly, since I couldn't single out one note, I had no clue about the bluesy sound associated with bending a note, or back then, they called it choking a note. It would be a long, winding road before I ever got serious about playing the harmonica again.

Don't know for sure, but I have a theory that forced school integration coincided with blues artists beginning to cross over to "white" radio top 40 formats. I just know that just about the time that we integrated schools, when I was in the eighth grade, that Slim Harpo's "Scratch My Back" was getting pretty regular play, along with Jimmy Reed's stuff. I loved it, especially since the harmonica was featured prominently with these guys. I had no clue that James Moore was Slim Harpo's real name and that James Moore wrote some of the songs that I thought were the Rolling Stones, and it really didn't matter. I really didn't know what blues music was, but I was beginning to get a feel for what it was all about and it was all about feeling. Meanwhile, the Stones headed down the road of rock, covering Chuck Berry and Buddy Holly more often than the bluesmen that inspired them early on and they lost me for awhile when they wanted it "painted black".

Staying with my integration theory: R&B, Motown, and Soul began to become quite popular with us Anglos. These were some cats that could really, really sing and the music was meant to dance, dance, dance to along with such songs as Wilson Pickett's "Midnight Hour". A party without Wilson Pickett on the turntable was a travesty. This, to me, was what eventually segued into Disco in the '70s, but back then local bands had to know this stuff to survive.

There were some great bands that played the area frequently, sometimes booked into our teen dances. Roy Head and Traits, who had a fairly major R&B hit with "Treat Her Right" and BJ Thomas and the Triumphs, prior to "Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head", were major draws. But the fledgling band that played a number of our "Sock Hops" and really impressed us was the Moving Sidewalks which was Houston's answer to the Thirteenth Floor Elevators and featured the stellar guitar slinging of Billy Gibbons (he of ZZTop fame) and they threw down the blues filtered through pschodelic lenses. It was about this time that I asked for a guitar as a gift, which I flailed on for about a year and my persistant impatience had me give up on the notion of mastering it, so I put it down (still have it, though).

The first LP record that I ever bought was Fresh Cream, by more of those English that were enamored with the blues. Eric Clapton, Ginger Baker, and Jack Bruce took the blues off the shelf, dusted it off, and blasted it into the stratosphere. The album was chock full of blues covers and rock magazine interviews with Clapton began to straighten me out as to what was what with the blues. Now, I could add Muddy Waters, Howling Wolf, and Skip James to Slim Harpo and Jimmy Reed to my list of artists who's albums I wanted to find--an impossibly back then in small town Texas, but the Englishmen's efforts were readily available. There second album veered into the pschodelic and experimental realm of rock, but Clapton was still throwing Albert King licks into songs like "Strange Brew". Refused to buy anything after their Disraeli Gears.

I had the same experience when Jimi Hendrix hit the scene. He could crank out some kind of extraordinaire blues and then lose me--but "Red House" always kept me riveted and Led Zeppelin held my interest for a couple of albums and moved on without me.

By the time I left for college, I had yet to own or know anyone who own an record by an true-to-life, real deal, bluesman. Anyway--next up SRV, Thunderbirds, and Cosmic Cowboys.

When The Levee Breaks...

Since I'm on a road trip jag, I'll continue on with the thread or whatever bloggers call it when staying with a particular topic. By the way, I hate this reverse chronology voodoo format. I'll deal with it though--on with the tale (oh, Led Zeppelin didn't create the title above, Memphis Minnie and Joe McCoy sang about the Mississippi River levee breaking and washing most of the Delta's inhabitants away--not exactly a threat in jolly old England).

Last summer I came up with the perfect road trip for my son and I to take together just to get out of Texas for a change. Living Blues and Blues Revue magazine always run an issue listing the major blues festivals around the world, so I thought that I would pick one out and John and I would take off. The festival that held the most promise to me would be the one that featured the most harmonica players (I'll get around to my blues harp history at some point--I keep getting distracted with these other sidebars). The Mississippi Valley Blues Festival, held in Davenport, Iowa, seemed to fit the bill perfectly. West Coast harmonica ace, Mark Hummel, was bringing his traveling "Blues Harp Blowout", featuring James Harman and Paul Oscher, to town, Little Charlie and the Nightcats with Rick Estrin was headlining one night, my newest discovery Watermelon Slim would be in from Oklahoma, Oscher (Muddy Waters' first white harpman) was scheduled to conduct a work shop along with one of the most innovative young harpguns in the country, Jason Ricci. Oh, that was just the bands with harmonica players. Bob Margolin was bringing in the legendary Nappy Brown, Robert Randolph was bringing his family, and there was literally many more that I'm forgetting about.

I was pumped and began to plot the trip out and book rooms along the route. I got us a room at the Howard Johnson that was within walking distance of the festival site. We were going to stay one night on the road and get into Davenport about 2pm Friday of the three day festival. On the return trip we had plans to stay a couple of nights in the Ozark Mountains in what appeared to be a great lake cabin.

The topper was that I had written to the festival public relations office and convinced them that my credentials were worthy of press passes for my son and myself. They agreed and supplied the passes and VIP backstage amenities. Wow! This would be one fine trip--and then it continued to do the first week of July what it had been doing most of June in Texas. RAIN, THUNDERSTORMS, TORNADOES, HAIL, FLOODS--stood between me and Iowa. I held out until the day that we planned on leaving and saw that the risk was greater than I was willing to subject my son to and I cancelled. Almost went alone, but didn't. It was a GREAT idea and it was a blast planning the details. I don't see as good of a harp-centric festival on the horizon this year, but maybe we'll find something that we can get into.

Little Charlie

At some point, I'll get further back in the day, but since I'm reminiscing about road trips to hear the blues with my daughter then I might as jump into recalling Little Charlie and the Nightcats' gig in Dallas. Since Megan's fiance, Brad, would be attending SMU's law school, she decided to take a job in Fort Worth after graduating with her new degree in health education from Emory University a couple of years ago. Since I had written articles in Southwest Blues Magazine, they began sending me monthly copies of their publication which was based in Dallas. Their monthly calendar of blues events kept me well informed of who was doing what and when in the DFW Metroplex.

Being that Little Charlie's front man, Rick Estrin, is positively, absolutely one of the best practitioners of applying the harmonica to blues music, I knew that I couldn't pass them up after seeing that they were being booked into Dallas' Granada Theater. Even though Estrin is not of the same generation as Carey Bell, he is beginning to take on legendary status along with the band's namesake, guitarist Little Charlie Baty. Their band is another of those that I wish I had gotten around to seeing and never did.

Megan and Brad were all for the trip to the Granada. They had been there before and were impressed with the venue. With Brad's appreciation of a wide palette of musical genre's, I knew he would enjoy the show. They had gotten a taste of the blues from Austin City Limit festivals and such and had seen Buddy Guy (he's another story) do his thing at Gruene Hall, of all places.

So Virginia (my lovely wife), Brad, Megan, and I headed out to see Little Charlie and the Nightcats. I convinced them that we should get there early because the opening acts might prove just as worthy. I knew that Christian Dozzler would be playing with the opening band, that was sort of a DFW blues revue. Dozzler was one of those foreigner type guys that knew as much about the blues as anyone from the South. He had moved from Austria to Dallas a few years back to ply his multi-instrumental talent to the blues scene. I had corresponded with him by e-mail after his move in order to track down the couple of cds that he had recorded. I was really impressed with his harmonica tone on these recordings and was hoping he would provide us with some examples of talent there. I was disappointed on that count because his duties were attached strictly to his keyboard. The band was really tight and vocals were passed around between the guitarist (name escapes me right now) and Freddie King's daughter, Shirley, who could belt it out with the best of 'em. Christian told me later in the evening that he does play substantially more harmonica with his own band and is the vocalist (a good one too, without much of an accent), but that he is also a hired gun and play whatever he's paid to do. They did what a good opening act does-warmed the crowd up and got the mood flowing exceptionally well.

Smoking Joe Kubek w/Benois King came out, well, smoking. I've got a couple of recordings by this group and their blues/rock has been hit or miss with me. The genre has grown a little old on me and after Stevie Ray Vaughn's definitive stamp was indelibly applied to the hurdle of those that followed, it has been hard to appreciate attempts at resurrecting that style. Live, though, Joe and Benois were absolutely impressive and they played off each other so very well. While Joe was slinging hot hash, Benois was adding cool rhythmic touches and smooth vocals. Joe's fretwork was so dynamic and he effortlessly fired the notes off. Only Eric Clapton has impressed me in the same way--making it look so smooth and easy. They gained another fan that night.

Maybe at one point in their careers Little Charlie and Rick might have been intimidated to follow such pyrotechnics, but at this stage they appear to be quite comfortable in their confidence to regain the crowd's favor very quickly. There were most likely were some that showed up at the venue to see Smoking Joe as much as Little Charlie, but I'm certain that a conversion to the Nightcats' brand of blues took place before the night was over. Rick Estrin, without doubt, is the coolest character in the blues world and he exemplifies that Hep Cat reputation in his dress, his demeanor, his patter with the audience, and certainly with the songs he sings (most of which he wrote). There are few that have ever turned a blues phrase with more wit and wisdom than Rick Estrin. Some of his tunes border on the Hokum genre popular in the '30s and '40s, but they all have a message in the madness. Folks who have written the Nightcats off, though, as punsters would be wrong because that is just a small piece of their blues mastery and they'll get way deep into the shadow of the blues and Little Charlie can swing the jazz axe with the best of 'em. They were quite grand at the Granada that night doing their do, with Rick swaggering, cool cat posturing, and blowing some fat-toned harp with riff ideas that had no end. Of course he did his trademark Sonny Boy Williamson II trick where he sticks the end of the harp in his mouth, appears to swallow half of it, and blows a tune with a "look ma, no hands" facial expression. Little Charlie is Estrin's perfect foil and keeps up things revved up perfectly. They were "slick", man. Brad, Megan, and Virginia were duly impressed.

Rick was extremely approachable between their last set and an encore number and told me that he was blowing harp through a borrowed Sonny Junior 410 amp supplied for the show. Pretty sure that Little Charlies' was venue supplied, also. Seems quite a few top shelf blues acts are lightning their load by traveling with the least baggage possible. Anyway--

Steady Rollin' Bob

Picture above are photos that Bob Margolin graciously granted me permission to share. The top photo is of Robert Jr. Lockwood, who was the last and one of the only bluesmen to learn directly from Robert Johnson (his step-father). The bottom photo is of the gentle giants, Taj Mahal, Willie "Big Eyes" Smith and Joe Willie "Pinetop" Perkins. Whoa! Legends All.

Daughter Megan's move to Atlanta a few years back to earn a masters degree in health education gave me the opportunity to visit the venerable blues club known as Blind Willies (named after Georgia's native blues son, Blind Willie McTell and author of one of the Allman Brothers' hits "Statesboro Blues"). Before leaving Texas I checked the club's website calendar and saw that Bob Margolin's band featuring Carey Bell on harmonica was booked during the weekend of my visit.

Carey Bell was one of the last old school Chicago bluesharp players (I say was because, sadly, he passed away recently)) and I had never had the opportunity to hear him play. Bob Margolin is becoming quite legendary as one of the few musicians still out there promoting the style of blues music that he played as Muddy Waters' guitarist from 1973-1980. I found an e-mail for Bob and he answered my request for details about the gig and was genuinely appreciative of my excitement at getting a chance to see a couple of the "Real Deals" sharing their craft with the rest of us. I was also excited about the chance for Megan to hear blues played the way it is supposed to be played.

Megan and I showed up early at the club to ensure a seat and since the club turned out to be surprisingly small, we were glad that we did. Bob and band blew in slightly late and shrugged off greetings and small talk explaining that they had fought traffic jams, had to get set up, and earn their keep. And earn it they did! Bob and band worked through several numbers before calling Carey to the stage and it gave me the opportunity to chat with Carey about playing techniques, his current health, and his son Lurrie. He didn't believe me when I told him that I had driven all the way from Texas just to hear him. Bob had Mookie Brill on bass (who also proved to be accomplished on the harmonica before the night was over) and Big Joe Maher on drums. Big Joe was filling in and is quite capable of carry a show on his own. Once summoned to the stage, Carey blew through some of the numbers that he was known for and worked in some of Muddy's classics that he himself had play on and Bob played slide guitar that evoke the ghost of his ex-boss exquisitively.

During the first break, Bob dropped by my table for a short chat and I found him to be very friendly and gracious and I was so glad that my daughter got the chance to meet him. I had several of Bob's cds (and cassettes) back in Texas, but listening to him do his thang live was exponentially better. Wish it hadn't taken sending a daughter to grad school to finally get to hear these guys.

Don't pass up a chance to hear Steady Rollin' Bob Margolin live. If not, grab one of his cds. Oh, he also writes a nice column for Blue Revue magazine every month and shares his take on the state of the blues from the perspective of one who knows.

I'm evoking Bob's memory at this point in time because I wanted to post the pictures that he sent me that he had taken of some true legends that he was billed with on the blues circuit a few years ago.

In The Beginning...

Well, I guess the best place to start this thing rolling is to explain what I'm doing here. Over the course of time I'm planning on re-visiting my roots as far as just why and how they tapped into the fertile grounds of blues music. Actually, I seem to just be a clone of a sub-culture of middle aged white men (M.A.W.M.s) who somehow siphoned the blues out of those myriad of Englishmen, who were recording American Black Blues music along with their rock back in the "60. We drank it in and became intoxicated with the warmth that the music left within. As most M.A.W.M.s, I found my way back to the same source that the Yardbirds, Eric Clapton, Led Zeppelin, the Rolling Stones, John Mayall etc...drew from and understood their attraction to the music. As many of my college buds were listening to Journey, Deep Purple, Heart, etc...I was sticking Muddy Waters, Howling Wolf, Albert King, and Elmore James on the turntable.

Anyway--at some point in time I amassed a pretty respectable collection of records, cassettes, and cds of every imaginable style of blues music. I subscribed to three blues magazines and one harmonica magazine (after taking up the blues harp as a diversion) and began to apply my journalism background to writing and submitting articles and music reviews. Many of my reviews were published on a website called the Delta Snake and in print in the American Harmonica Magazine. When both ceased to exist, so did the posterity of my writings. Plans are to resurrect some of those here--I feel that they need to have a presence somewhere and that maybe I owe it to those that I wrote about.

At another point in time, I began to play the harmonica outside of my homestead (way sooner than I should have ventured out--but that's another story I'll get around to relaying). I've met some wonderful musicians through the instrument and plan on sharing my experiences along the way. Okay, 'nuff for now.