A Friend of the Devil

Remember when we dethroned Robert Johnson as King of the Blues and coronated Charley Patton in his place? Sure you do. We talked about the Pilgrims and Sandlot. It was a really great moment. I felt like we really connected. Anyway, this entry is going to be kind of like that. Because before Bobby, there was Tommy Johnson: the original friend of the devil.

If you know the name Tommy Johnson, it’s probably because you remember the character based on him from the movie O Brother, Where Art Thou?


I'm right here, man

In the movie, Johnson’s character claims that he sold his soul at a crossroads in exchange for musical prowess. If that sounds familiar, it should. Because it’s pretty much the same story Robert Johnson would claim about a decade later.

"We are still trying to establish the correlation between the surname 'Johnson' and heathenism"

Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t but whatever he did, it worked.

Tommy Johnson was born in Terry, Mississippi in 1896. By 1914, he was starting to establish himself as a force to be reckoned with in the Delta Blues scene. While Charley Patton could give him a run for his money when it came to guitar playing--and guitar trickery--few other Delta Bluesmen could match his hand when it came to vocals. His range could go from a growl to a falsetto quicker than he could flip his guitar--which was pretty damn fast.

To put it simply: Tommy Johnson had game. Mad game. So, why is it that he only recorded for two years, from 1928 to 1930, when he was an active performer until his death in 1956? The answer to that lies in one of his most popular tunes: “Canned Heat.”

Canned Heat is actually a trademark for a certain brand of solid alcohol/paraffin fuel that is packed into small cans and used to heat food. Incidentally, it is also a trademark of an alcoholic--which Tommy Johnson unashamedly was. He was such an alcoholic that, when he signed a copyright deal to allow another group rights to one of his melodies, he was so drunk that he believed he had signed away his rights to record.

While we only have two years worth of his recordings at our disposal, that is not to say that any of his legacy has been lost. When he died in 1956, blues and rock musicians mourned and, because we need another reason to worship Bonnie Raitt, it should be noted that she paid for his headstone. Due to a land dispute the headstone was never actually placed on his grave. Instead, you can visit it at the Crystal Springs, Mississippi Public Library.

His legacy also lives on most notably in the 60s blues rock band that took their name from his hit and created the classic “On the Road Again,” inspired by his own “Big Road Blues.”

Twelve Strings and the Truth

“Lead Belly sang the blues wonderfully, but he was much bigger than that. He encompassed the whole black era, from square dance calls to the blues of the 30’s and 40’s” -Alan Lomax


Mozart began playing music at age four. Mozart--at least in prodigy status--has nothing on Huddie Ledbetter.


We get it. You're a kid. Playing the Piano. Real tight.

Huddie Ledbetter was born on January 20, 1889 in Mooringsport Louisiana. You probably don’t know him by that name though. You probably know him as Lead Belly--The King of the Twelve String Guitar.

He began playing music when he was only two years old--making him just slightly more prodigious than our dear Wolfgang.

Lead Belly quit school after the 8th grade and turned instead to the juke joints for his education. There he was a seasoned performer by the ripe old age of 14.

He mastered the guitar first with a little help from his uncle, but he didn’t stop there. He also learned the accordion, mandolin and piano--mastering them each in turn. And then, as if fated, he discovered his true love. Her name was “Stella” and she was a voluptuous twelve-stringed beauty who would stay with him for the rest of his career.

STELLLAAAAAA!


As a young man, Lead Belly traveled around the south picking cotton and playing music as he went. In 1918, he fought and killed a man in Dallas, landing him in prison for a would-be 25 year sentence. In 1925, he wrote a song asking the governor for a pardon. It was a ballsy move and, like most ballsy moves, it worked. Lead Belly was set free.

But before long he was at is again. The next altercation didn’t end with a death, but it did end with a sentence on Angola Farm prison. And it was there that he met the Lomax brothers.

They recognized greatness in him immediately and after his work term he followed them north and onward toward critical acclaim. He relocated to New York and became a regular on the folk circuit--frequently sharing the stage with the great Woody Guthrie--which is perhaps why it’s so easy to hear the folk influence in Lead Belly’s blues.

Lead Belly died in 1949 from Lou Gehrig’s disease but not before cataloguing over 500 songs--a prolific output.

Bob Dylan, Kurt Cobain, Keith Richards, Robert Plant--they all looked up to Lead Belly. Van Morrison said, “he wasn’t an influence. He was the influence.” As Odetta put it, “Lead Belly’s music still strikes a chord today, because it addresses our human condition.”

That it does, and as always, he and Stella can prove it better than I can:



And Kurt doesn’t do too bad himself:

Turnin' a Blind Eye

West of the Delta there’s a pretty big patch of land that’s know for a few things. It only has room for one star, but plenty of space for ten gallon hats. And, love it or hate it, you have to give it props for two things: (1) the Alamo and (2) being the birthplace of Texas Blues, fathered by none other than Blind Lemon Jefferson.

All the ladies wanna squeeze my lemon.

Jefferson was born near Coutchman, Texas in September of either 1893 or 1894--depending on whether you ask his mother or his draft card. As his moniker suggests, he was blind from birth but that didn’t stop him from becoming one of the most influential blues musicians of the early 20th century.

He took up the guitar in his early teens and spent most of his time during those years as a street musician. He played in some pretty dodgy places in those formative years and, while he couldn’t actually see them, he internalized them and they served as inspiration for much of his music.

Around 1910 or so, Jefferson made his way to Dallas where he became an integral part of the Deep Ellum blues scene. There, he took up with fellow bluesman Leadbelly and learned a thing or two before he himself became the teacher. His devoted pupil was none other than the legend T-Bone Walker. Walker received guitar lessons in exchange for being Blind Jefferson’s guide around the city--not a bad deal, all things considered.

Jefferson’s comparatively high-pitched voice set him apart from the other forebearers, as did his guitar style. While some tunes adhered to the traditional, repetitive blues technique we’ve become familiar with, others threw out the concept of repetition almost entirely. A few more rhythm driven ones even had accompanying dances that went with them which is well, very Texan:


He also had a tendency to favor single note runs, which would later turn out to be pretty characteristic of Texas blues.

Again unlike many of the forebearers, Jefferson enjoyed quite a bit of commercial success in his time. His recordings for Paramount did well in sales and in the eyes of the critics. While his first recordings were Gospel tunes--somewhat uncharacteristic for someone who was otherwise regarded mostly as a poet of the people--recorded under the pseudonym Deacon L. J Bates, his first hits, “Booster Blues” and “Dry Southern Blues,” were under his own name. Another well known one was “I got the blues":

Not quite

More like this:


While not much survived in terms of photographic evidence, Jefferson’s legacy lives on in both his recordings and the recordings of those he influenced. Chief among them, T-bone Walker, Canned Heat, the Beatles, and what Texas blues would eventually become: