Clarksdale, Mississippi is said to be mecca of the blues, and judging by the pilgrims who come here from around the world it just might be. Tonight at Red's there were folks from 10 states and as far away as Australia, and last time there were people from Japan, France, Germany, and Canada...something about the blues that speaks across borders, across languages, and into the stuff.
Tonight I heard "Kingfisher", a 14 year-old guitar wizard, not for flashy licks, but for deep knowing, solid feel, and soulful maturity well beyond his years. Couldn't help but think that this kid possesses a wisdom from somewhere else...that kind of musicianship and soul just can't be conjured in such little time...wondered about where it came from, whether it is inborn, whether it comes from someplace, from someone. Clarksdale is the place of the crossroads where Robert Johnson sold his soul to the devil in exchange for his musical talent. Kingfisher has so much mojo I wonder if that spell is alive and well in this town.
There's a juke joint festival down here April 12 and 13, get here if you can. Stay at Hobson's Plantation, drink cheap beer, open your ears, and prepare yourself for gritty transformation in the kettle of the blues. JUKE JOINT FESTIVAL WEBSITE
Memories, Dreams and Reflections from my world...stories, poems, and other detritus too.
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