David ‘Honeyboy’ Edwards has been in fast company for most of his life. His running buddies have included the seminal roots of Delta Blues. Charley Patton, Robert Johnson, Son House, Willie Brown, Tommy McClennan, Tommy Johnson and Robert Petway were just a few of the musicians that Edwards called friends. He’s spent a lifetime sharing street corners, working juke houses and rolling the dice with the legends of blues, both past and present.

Edwards has outlived his peers, and most of his friends, but shows little sign of slowing down. When pressed, he’ll admit to some ‘pretty good action’ as far as his guitar work is concerned, but even more impressive is his phenomenal recollection of dates, events and first-person accounts of the blues and its originators. According to Edwards, his introduction to the road began one fateful weekend in 1932 when, at the age of 17, he heard a blues man perform at a local house party. His life would never be the same.

“Joe Williams was out there playing for a country dance on a Saturday night and I went over there where he was playing. I kept looking at him and he said, ‘Can you play?’ I said, ‘I can play a little.’ He passed the guitar to me and I started to strum ’cause I had a good lick, you know? And he said, ‘Yeah, and I can learn you, too.’

So, he come to my father’s house that Sunday morning, we eat breakfast and sat around. He played guitar and he asked my father, ‘Can Honey go with me out to Greenwood?’ We were only about two miles from Greenwood. My father said, ‘I don’t care, he ain’t nothin’ to do on the farm. He can go if he want to.’ I got my brother-in-law’s guitar and followed him. I never did brought his guitar back, I kept a-going with Joe Williams.”

It would be the beginning of a journey Edwards, now in his nineties, finds more rewarding than ever.

“When I first started out with Joe, I played some in the streets, little clubs, cafe’s and joints, just everywhere, anywhere you can make something. Joe couldn’t read or write or nothin’, but he had a good mind and he could think of songs to sing. He had a good mind but didn’t have no kind of education, but he could think good and he wouldn’t forget nothin.”

In order to further his own education, Honeyboy would soon find company with another blues traveller.

“After I left Big Joe the last of ’32, in ’33 and ’34 I was with Tommy McClennan. I was around Greenwood and Tommy was around Greenwood too. Tommy and Robert Petway, we all just go in and out together. Sometime I’d work with Tommy, sometime Tommy’d work with Robert. We all know’d each other, played with each other, you know?”

While Edwards, McClennan and Petway were just getting started, one Delta elder, Charley Patton, was already considered a living legend. Patton was one of the most versatile and influential delta musicians of the era, and Honeyboy was a quick study.

“I was with Charley Patton a little while before he died in ’34. I know’d him in ’33, he was at Marigold, Mississippi out from Dockery. He was still on the farm at Dockery Plantation. He married this young girl, Bertha, that was his wife Bertha, and the year he died, in ’34 they had went to Jackson and Bertha had recorded the ‘Yellow Bee Blues.’ She sung and that was the last recording he done.”

The Sweet Life

When Honeyboy reflects on his early days in blues he has to laugh.

“Before I married, I didn’t do nothin’ but play guitar and gamble. That’s all I done. I had a gang of women’s, you know. I had two or three, they was working and had good jobs.”

Living the sweet life was nice but David Edwards was never very far from the music or the players who created it.

“I used to live in Memphis and I used to play with some of the Memphis Jug Band, Big Walter Horton, Will Shade, Son Brimmer, Little Frank Stokes and Old Man Stokes. I was young then but I know’d them all. Me and Big Walter Horton was pretty close together. I was two years older than Big Walter but he was a good harp blower ever since he was 14. I met him in Memphis, Tennessee, he was maybe 15 years old. I met him in Handy’s Park.”

Charlie Musselwhite who also credits Joe Williams and Will Shade as influences, once described himself as ‘slack-jawed’ the first time he saw Walter Horton blow. So it shouldn’t be surprising that harp players, to this day, still try to match Horton’s technique and tone. Honeyboy doesn’t think it will happen.

“Can’t do it. Both of them Walters had a good tone. Little Walter Jacobs had a tone that Big Walter didn’t have. Little Walter had like a Louisiana style, down on the bayou music but he had his own style of playing harmonica. He had a good, full sound. Little Walter had a better, fuller sound than Big Walter had, but Big Walter played more harp than Little Walter played. You understand me? He knew more riffs. But Little Walter had the best tone.”

Gone too soon, Little Walter would die from injuries suffered in a fight and Honeyboy remembers only too well, Big Walter’s life-long suffering.

“Big Walter was sick all his life. He was sickly, puney-like, you know? He drank a whole lot of whiskey. Oh, he was a heavy drinker.”

Speaking of gone to soon, Edwards spent a short period of time playing and touring with the bluesman considered by most to be the ‘King of the Delta Blues’ players, Robert Johnson.

“In 1937, Robert was 26 and I was 22. Robert was about four years older than me. The first time I met him was on the streets. I didn’t really know who he was ’cause I hadn’t ever met him, but I heard about him. I got a cousin who lived in Tunica, Mississippi, she was Robert’s girlfriend, and every time I go to see my cousin she’d tell me about Robert. ‘Do you know Robert? Robert plays guitar.’ I say, ‘No, I don’t know Robert.’ She say, ‘Robert Johnson, he goes by Robert Johnson, Robert Lonnie Johnson, he wears so many damn names, I don’t know.’ (laughing)

And so, when I met him on the streets and he was playin’ he told the people he was Robert Johnson and he had just came from Austin, Texas. That would have been the fall of 1937, and he was playin’ on the streets. A lady come up there, she said, ‘Listen sir, play me Terraplane Blues and I’ll give you a dime,’ like that. Just country people standing around drinking whiskey, listening to that music and he said, ‘That’s my record, lady.’ She said, ‘Well play it then for me,’ and he started to playing it and she said, ‘I believe that is that man’s record.’ He played it just like the record, you know.”

Tragically Johnson would be dead within a year, but David Edwards’ career was just starting to pick up speed.

“I was so fast myself, I went around a whole lot myself, but as long as he (Johnson) was around Greenwood I’d hang around with him. I’d go where he was playin’ at and we’d go to a couple of whiskey houses there in Greenwood and whore houses where they sell whiskey, you know? Two or three woman’s there at Greenwood had good-time houses, women’s be hangin’ around and men drinkin’ a lot of white whiskey and we sittin’ there playin’ for them, you know? Good time houses, good time Charlie.”

It wouldn’t be until the end of WWII that Honeyboy would finally make his first trip to Chicago.

“I carried Little Walter Jacobs with me in 1945, he come there with me in ’45. In the winter of ’45 I went back south, I was scared of the cold weather. Walter told me, he said, ‘Well Honey, he say, I ain’t goin’ back. I’m gonna’ lay around and hang around here awhile.’ He liked it up there. And I left. In ’46 in the fall I heard Walter’s records. Walter had recorded with Muddy Waters. I said, ‘That boy’s done recorded’…I say, ‘I’m goin’ back’ I say, ‘I’m going where I can do me somethin’. So when I come back Walter was hooked up with Muddy Waters.”

Everyone who heard Little Walter play, knew he was ahead of his time, but those who knew him personally realized his time wasn’t long.

“Walter could play that harp, the boy was good, but he lived too fast, too fast. He got down to Chicago and was makin’ money. He was a nice-lookin’ boy and had a lot of women’s and a big Cadillac. It went to his head.”

Throughout his travels, Edwards has witnessed both the rise and demise of some of music’s most dynamic personalities. But in his eyes, it was just a part of life on the road.

“I used to go so much, I wouldn’t stay nowhere,” but Memphis became Honeyboy central when his sisters moved to the area in the late ’40’s and early ’50’s. With family close by you could usually find him “playing West Memphis every Friday and Saturday night. I used to play with B.B.King in 1950, ’51. He was in West Memphis, Arkansas. He was broadcasting over there in Memphis at WDIA station, but he was living in West Memphis. Me and my wife used to go over there every Friday and Saturday night and I’d sit in with him. He had one little old number he’d made about Miss Martha King. He made that for Sam Phillips too, I think. Sun’s.

And I was in Memphis when Elvis Presley made his first little record there. Presley was working in Memphis driving a construction truck. This white boy got famous, he come from Tupelo, Mississippi. He made one little old number for Sam Phillips, Sun’s. It didn’t do nothin’, but when the song got out here (California) someway it made a hit when it came out here.”

The Delta-born Presley knew firsthand the appeal and heart-felt emotions of blues music and would start his career by covering some of the era’s most prolific black artists. It would be those Elvis remakes that would eventually expose a segregated white America to the music of Arthur Crudup, Willie Mae Thornton and Herman Parker.

Honeyboy remembers Elvis “shakin’ and goin’ on, but he couldn’t play nothin’. Doin’ the swing dance and people went for it and he got famous, but he didn’t learn how to play guitar for a long time. I run in on him but we never played together, I run in on him several times. I know’d him, I used to see him when he was workin’. He used to come out to Jackson Ave. sometime when he was laying steel back in 1950.”

Fifty-eight years later, Edwards is a blues survivor. His road continues to run through every type of blues venue imaginable. From small bars and clubs to huge fairground and festival events and the occasional recording studio. It’s not a lifestyle for the weak of heart and Honeyboy insists he’s going to slow down. He’s also the first to admit that the blues were here before he was and will still be around long after he’s gone.

“Blues is not gonna’ go nowhere. You take years ago when a lot of disco’s slowed the blues up a little bit. But the disco didn’t stay in long, see? And then the blues come right on back, alive, and it got worser. It got worser. There’s a lot of young people playing the blues too, now. They’re gettin’ right into it. And a lot of festivals bringin’ in some of the young people to the blues.”

The never-ending cycle of human suffering ensures that the blues, in one form or another, will always endure.

“Blues come along ways to what I’ve been experiencing because I’m old, I’ve been here a long time. Blues come from slavery time and what I mean by slavery time, the people’s used to work in the field and sing holler songs. Ohhh, Ohhhh, trying to make the day. In the 20’s they started recording like Mama Rainey, Bessie Smith, Ida Cox, Blind Lemon and they named it the blues.”

“In the early days, it was players like Texas Alexander and Lonnie Johnson and then they just come on in the 40’s and the blues got wide. I came up playin’ the lonesome, slow blues. There’s two or three different ways you can play the blues. You can play a slow blues, the low-down dirty blues, the Mississippi blues or you take the same blues and make it up tempo, a shuffle, up-tempo beat, you know? In the later years I worked a lot of taverns and I started playing some of the up tempo blues. Just raise the tempo on it. See what I mean? Still it’s the blues.”

David ‘Honeyboy’ Edwards is a living, breathing piece of American history. A National Treasure who sums up his life as a blues journeyman, philosophically.

“Blues is a feeling. You can start playing the blues and the feeling comes down on you sometime. It’s a feeling, from the heart. Mine. And when I was young, I used to start playing the blues and I’d play a couple of numbers and I’d get right up and put up my guitar case and start to walk, go catch me a ride and go to the next town. They wouldn’t let me stay nowhere, that’s what the blues do for me. I wouldn’t stay no where, that’s why I went so much. I’d be here this week, and next week I’d be somewhere’s else. That guitar just kept me goin’, wouldn’t let me stay.”

Lucky for us.

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Porotos Granados is the national dish of Chile. The basic ingredients — pumpkin, cranberry beans, corn and tomatoes — are all indigenous to the New World, pre-dating the arrival of Europeans.

Vegetarians will be delighted to find that there are no meat products in the dish, and that the recipe is heart-healthy and absolutely delicious. A popular summer dish in Chile, you can prepare this recipe year-round, substituting with white or navy beans.

You can also spice it up a bit by using a hot green chili pepper, seeded and minced. Sometimes it is garnished with sweet basil. Keep in mind this is a stew – sometimes called Chilean Bean Stew in English – and like all stews the recipe can vary to your liking. I once devoured the sublime dish with a family who served it with a fried egg on top.

Serves 4-6.

Ingredients:

• 1 cup chopped onion
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 3 tablespoons oil
• 2 teaspoons paprika
• 1 cup pumpkin, peeled and cubed (acorn or butternut squash can be substituted)
• 2 cups fresh sweet corn kernels
• 1-2 cups water
• 1 large tomato, chopped
• 2 cups beans – shelled fresh cranberry beans (again, you may substitute with white or navy beans)

Preparation:

1. Simmer the fresh cranberry beans gently in water for 30-45 minutes, or until tender. Drain and set aside.
2. Heat the oil in a heavy saucepan and add the onions and garlic. Cook until translucent. Add paprika, pumpkin, tomato and corn, stirring until vegetables are soft and fragrant.
3. Add 1 cup of water, covered for 5-10 more minutes. Add the beans (and more water if necessary) and simmer for 15-20 minutes, or until pumpkin is very soft and begins to fall apart and thicken the stew. Simmer even longer, uncover to thicken the stew, or add more water if a thinner stew is desired.

Buen apetito!

The post Porotos Granados from Chile appeared first on Traveling Boy.

May 10, 1946 – April 19, 2026

Story and pictures by author.

Waking to the news that Dave Mason had passed set off a flood of memories for me. Fifty years became yesterday recalling my first tour through Asia as a young Navy journalist. One of my very first assignments for Armed Forces Radio in Tokyo was to seek out and interview touring musicians for broadcast to our troops stationed overseas. As luck would have it, Dave Mason was just wrapping up his tour through Japan and after I reached out, he graciously agreed to sit and talk.

To say that Mason was an exceptional musician, singer-songwriter and stage performer is factually correct, yet an understatement of massive proportions. And it wasn’t an act that was just Dave Mason; he wasn’t flashy or attention-seeking, just straight forward and down-to-earth. ‘This is what I do so let’s just play and enjoy the time we have.’ Case in point – Mason performed and recorded with literally, EVERYONE! Iconic collaborations with Jimi Hendrix, the Rolling Stones, George Harrison, Paul McCartney, Eric Clapton, Stevie Wonder, Leon Russell, Fleetwood Mac, and of course, Traffic…you get the point. And yet in our conversations when pressed on those accomplishments, he’d just smile. “Well, that was just the 60s in London…everybody was just hanging out…the Beatles, the Stones. We’d all hang out together or be in a club somewhere together.”

Make no mistake Dave Mason was different, but what made him legendary was his generosity. He would contact Armed Forces Radio every time he came back through Tokyo just to say hello, come on the air and talk about his tour or new projects directly with our men and women in uniform throughout the Far East. He didn’t have to, he just did. The following interview came from two of those encounters; the first in 1977 and again in 1980.

Let’s go back to the beginning for you, that area of the UK map around Birmingham-Worcester produced an incredible amount of musical talent. “It started in Worcester which is only 25 miles from Birmingham and Jim Capaldi lived about 12 miles away in a place called Evesham. Mick Ralphs who played with Bad Company lived about eight miles from me. Robert Plant and John Bonham come from Kidderminster, about another ten miles away.”

Tell us about the Jaguars. “The Jaguars was the first band, when I was 16. It was mostly all just instrumental; Shadows stuff, the Ventures and things like that. And Jim (Capaldi) was in another group called the Sapphires. He used to do a great Elvis Presley with the black shirt and the pink tie and the white jacket.”

When I look at your touring schedule, it’s unreal. What is it about the road; do you still enjoy it or ever tire of it? “Yeah, you need to keep touring. I like to tour anyway, because I like to play to people. I don’t like the traveling, but I like to play and it keeps me in touch with what’s going on with audiences. Especially, there’s a lot of people who grew up with me, you know together, the same ages…so I think it’s good to keep going out there letting everybody know once they get past thirty, they don’t have to stop rock and rollin’!” (laughing) “It’s okay to have a good time, folks!” (laughing) “In fact the keyboard player that’s playing with me now, is Mark Stein who used to be with the Vanilla Fudge. And we do ‘You Keep Me Hangin’ On’ on stage. We’re going to go and rehearse this afternoon and I think we’re going to add ‘Dear Mr. Fantasy’ to the set too, I think.”

It seems your playbill has no limitations. “About a month ago I was in New York and I got to meet this guy, Tom O’Horrigan who did all the choreography for ‘Jesus Christ Superstar’ and the original ‘Hair’ and the Lenny Story. And I’m going to put together a musical collage and the title of the show is going to be ‘Dear Mr. Fantasy.’ It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a long time, to put music and dance together with a group and music. Not to make a point just something to enjoy.” (laughing)

What do you remember about the Basement Floor, wasn’t it like a cottage or rehearsal space? “The Basement Floor, that was when Traffic was first starting and we used to go to London and this guy, Paul Medcalf…on the original ‘Dear Mr. Fantasy’ cover there’s a guy leaping around with the white Kabuki face, that was him and we’d go down to London. He was just a struggling artist then and a few nights we’d be sleeping on the floor.” (laughing)

Prior to Traffic, you and Jim Capaldi had a project, ‘Deep Feeling?’ “Oh yeah, a couple of years before that, actually…we used to do a lot of Nina Simone songs and Oscar Brown, Jr. songs. Very obscure stuff for those days. Martha and the Vandellas stuff, Bob and Earl the Harlem Shuffle, things like that. They go way back.”

Also in those early days, is it true you did some ‘roadie’ work? “Yeah for a couple of months, I was.” And didn’t you play on a few Spencer Davis recordings, ‘I’m A Man’? “Yeah, I’m singing on that and in fact I’m singing on ‘Somebody Help Me’ with Steve, ‘I’m A Man,’ ‘Gimme Me Some Lovin.’ And Traffic was happening then, it was more or less starting.”

Traffic was so groundbreaking for its fusion of Jazz and Psychedelic Rock n’ Roll. “Yeah, it was. It was kind of strange because that was the first group that I, once that I started writing; the things that I was writing about were not the things I’m writing about now. They were the hit songs at the time for the band and it caused a little rift which eventually led to them not wanting me to be in the band anymore so that’s why I left. I don’t know, my things they said were a little too pop-oriented. But I wasn’t even thinking of it that way, I figured if you’re out there making music for the people you might as well make things you can enjoy. I don’t know, sometimes people try to be too hip. I like music to be happy, just have a good time.”

Do you feel your solo efforts reflect more of that? “Yeah, I just sort of talk about or sing about things that everybody goes through, but this isn’t the end of the world approach to things.” (laughing)

When you left Traffic the first time, you started producing more? “Yeah, I did ‘Music in a Doll’s House’ the Family’s album. They were definitely a cult following and it was all done on four-track, that whole thing. Yeah, that was 1968 and I knew all those guys and they wanted me to do the album so I thought it would be a good chance for me to learn that part of the whole thing, you know?”

You worked on some of that generation’s most inspired and iconic sessions…The Stones ‘Beggars Banquet…’ “Well, that was just the 60s in London, which was great. Everybody was just hanging out…the Beatles, the Stones. Anybody that was in that place and we’d all hang out together or be in a club somewhere together and I just got to know all these people. That’s how playing with them came about, you know? Hendrix and I used to hang out a lot. We’d sit up all night and play. Actually, ‘All Along the Watchtower’ came out of listening to that Basement album (Bob Dylan) that he put out with ‘The Mighty Quinn.’ And the John Wesley Harding album was out and we were listening to that at somebody’s house one night; me, Jimi and Brian Jones and he wanted to do ‘All Along the Watchtower.’ That’s when I wasn’t with Traffic and Noel Redding had left Jimi’s band and I was actually going to play bass with Hendrix and the band, but management put a stop to that.” (laughing)

What is it with you and management? (laughing) “I have a thing with all middle men. They become the mouthpieces for things, you know? Probably should have nothing to do with what really should be happening. I don’t know, they just want to protect their interests, I guess.”

Let’s talk about ‘Feeling Alright?’ “That came about pretty easily. I was just trying to write the simplest song I could and the simplest was just two chords that just kept changing back and forth; which is what the song really does. Musically, that’s why I wrote it, lyrically was to do with a lot of other things.”

Seems everybody has recorded that song, from Joe Cocker and Three Dog Night to Mongo Santamaria and Gladys Knight. “I know. I know! I wish I’d have been older and wiser and kept the publishing on it!” (laughing)

After Stevie Winwood left Traffic, didn’t you get together with the other members briefly? “Yes, Mason, Capaldi, Wood and Frog (laughing) ‘Wooden Frog’ was the name of the band. (Keyboardist Mick Weaver was Frog) That was a real short-lived thing.”

You wanted to mention something else about Hendrix? “There’s going to be another movie coming out on Hendrix from the Albert Hall in London. We did the show with him and there’s a sequence with me playing with him on that, and Chris Wood, too. I think that’s coming out next year sometime. I’d like to see it, I haven’t seen it. A blast into the past as Hendrix would say.”

(Editor’s Note: That film ‘The Jimi Hendrix Experience: Live at the Royal Albert Hall was recorded February 24, 1969.)

Gram Parsons. “Yeah, we played together. Gram, when I first moved to L.A. in ’69 and he introduced me to Cass Elliot. Everybody would go and hang out at her place, you know? That’s how that album came about. She lived on Woodrow Wilson (Laurel Canyon) in fact it was the house that Ringo had that just burned down last year. So, that’s gone.”

Can you talk a little about Delaney and Bonnie. “Well Delaney and Bonnie was when I first went to America, the person that was managing me then, was managing them. I wasn’t doing anything so I went and played guitar with them. It was on that tour in ’69. Clapton wasn’t in the band, he was with Blind Faith. Delaney and Bonnie were the opening act for Blind Faith.”

You release your debut solo album, ‘Alone Together’ in 1970. “I don’t remember too much about doing that album. (laughing) I really didn’t know what I was doing, I just wanted to make an album, you know? All these people like, Leon Russell, Larry Knechtel, who else was on there, Jim Gordon, Jim Keltner and so many. All these guys were up from Tulsa, they were all the session guys and then they all became famous, which then split all of them up, which is what happens. Everything’s fine until success comes and then for some reason it just all goes…psthfft. But I guess that’s just the way it goes.”

You did a few shows with Cass Elliot and then the album. “We did just two dates with Cass, really, and the album. We did a couple of shows, one in New York and one in L.A.”

Your productivity in 1971 was amazing. ‘Welcome to the Canteen.’ There were live recordings from the Troubadour in L.A. and the release of ‘Headkeeper.’ “‘Welcome to the Canteen’ again was when I was back in England. I thought we could give it one more shot and put the band back together again. And ‘Headkeeper’ was really something I didn’t want out. That was a record company trip. It was an unfinished album; it was supposed to be a double album. One original studio album and one live album and we ended up putting one side live and one side studio but they were all unmixed tapes, they weren’t even mixed. They took some rough copies and slapped an album together and threw it out there. There are some good things on there, but I never got to really finish it. I really wanted it to be a double album.”

You’ve performed with so many artists over the years, is there anybody you’d really like to play with that you haven’t had the opportunity as of yet? “God, a lot I suppose! Most of the people I want to play with are a little out of my league, I think. I don’t really think of myself as a musician at all. I’m very limited in terms of what I can do on guitar. I go for a sound; I know how to put it all together to make up a whole thing. Jim Krueger is what I would call a guitar player (laughing) with my band. He’s a great guitar player; I don’t really think of myself that way at all.”

Michael Jackson played on your album ‘Old Crest on a New Wave.’ “They put out ‘Save Me’ with Michael and they hit the R&B charts with it too.”

How did that even happen? “Well, I gave him an award with Bonnie Pointer on the American Music Awards, and that’s where I met him. And he was in Studio B in the Studio where I was cutting this record and we were doing this track and I needed somebody to hit a high note, so I thought I’ll just go ask him if he wants to sing on it. He said, ‘Sure, I’d love to sing on it!’ He just popped in out of the session, stood there and bopped away. It sounds like a real odd combination, but it works.”

Let’s go back just a minute because the last time we talked you had just released your sixth solo album “Let it Flow.” That album was on the Billboard charts like 49 weeks and the track ‘We Just Disagree’ peaked at #12 in the U.S. “That was a good album, a big album.”

Then the album before that ‘Certified Live’ I think you mentioned had been mixed aboard a ship? “Yeah, we mixed the album on a boat. Yeah, we took a boat for ten days down to Mexico, anchored near an island somewhere. It was great, it was perfect. No phones, no one to bother you, no hassles.” (laughing)

Mike Finnigan played on your latest album too. He was touring with you the last time you came this way. Finnigan has also been playing with Les Dudek and Jim Krueger in DFK. It’s like six degrees of Dave Mason. “Dudek wrote one of the last songs on the album, ‘Get It Right.’ I played with Les before and Finnigan is playing with Stephen Stills now. He’s been playing with him for a couple of years. Finnigan had a real good time over here.” (Tokyo) “A big six foot Kansas boy. (laughing) It was funny; I never thought he would enjoy it as much as he did, but he loved it over here in Japan. I don’t know how he got on the beds at the New Otani…I imagine his legs hanging off the end of the bed!” (laughing)

Last thoughts on Old Crest on a New Wave. “I really tried to make something that was appealing or commercial if you want to use that word, but not selling out. Simple and just back to the guitar and the band playing, just make it fun…just fun. It’s just everybody’s got to have a point. Whatever happened to just having fun? (laughing) I don’t know, you know? I guess when I was 17 or 18 it was more important to do that, then. Now it’s just, let’s make some music and have a good time, you know?” (laughing)

Speaking of creativity, is it easier to write music now? “Well, it used to be easy. I think it was easier when I had something to prove to myself, when I was younger. It doesn’t matter that much now, there’s a lot of good songwriter’s around and there’s a lot of good songs. I just like to perform and I like to play and I like to sing good songs. And if someone has a good song that I can relate to, I’d love to do it. Its like ‘We Just Disagree’ it could have been something I could have written. It fit right in the framework of Dave Mason. I don’t feel like it has to be all my material at all. Every one can’t be a great song.” (laughing)

When you prepare for recording, what’s the mindset? Wired up? Laid back? Hectic? Crazy? “All of that! (laughing) You know, all of those things.”

You’ve spent decades now as an artist, seeing all the changes taking place in the performing arts and music industry, what do you think the future holds? “I don’t know, I mean…I don’t know where it’s all going quite honestly. (laughing) It’s going down the toilet. (laughing)

But you’ve been doing it so long and so successfully…“But also that’s why I don’t have the pressure of having to constantly be on ALL the time. There’s always going to be a point that I can always make a good song and put it out. I like to do things that are timeless, I don’t know. That’s what I feel is important, more than making the money, more than having the fame if you can make a piece of music that leaves people feeling something. It’s like when I put out ‘Alone Together’ I used to get a lot…” Dave pauses to reflect. “When you write a song and go into the studio and you put it onto tape and the tape goes onto the wax and the wax goes into a piece of cardboard and gets sold…I would get letters from guys who were back from ‘Nam and goin’ nuts and they’d tell me, ‘boy I’d put on one of your songs, man and just sort of…’ Dave just shakes his head. “You know that’s, to me, it just made everything…something like that makes it feel it’s worthwhile. To know that a little relief can be brought in that hellhole that somebody sitting out there…from just something that I did. So that makes it really worthwhile.” Dave grins. “Or that somebody could fall in love, two people fall in love…it’s like when anybody has a certain song that happens at a specific time of your life so you relate and you can always go back to that moment.”
They’re playing our song. “They’re playing our song! (laughing) Right! Like those old classic movies, they’re playing our song! (laughing)

After this tour, what’s next for Dave Mason? “I’ve been through a lot of hassles with business and stuff. I’ve got to get back to myself a little bit. It’s been fourteen years of keeping this up, you know? And there’s not that many people around that have been doing it as long as I have. And it’s been hard, you know? So I have to try and just pace it so I don’t lose myself somewhere along the line. I’m going to try to put this show together for Broadway. The Beacon Theater, they’re going to let me use to do the show, so I want to put this together. I want to take the time to get back to writing a bit more and I think I’m going to be coming out this way (Tokyo) more. All I’ve been doing is playing in America for the last ten years and nowhere else. I’d like to go to some other places and then come back here and work in the Far East a little bit more. From here maybe jump off and go to Australia where I’ve never played. Just go to some places where it’s new for me. So going to some fresh places would be good for me. Sort of rejuvenate myself a little bit.”

As these snippets of time reflect, Dave Mason was not only a skilled and talented musical storyteller but a kind and caring individual. Long after these conversations, Dave continued to give back to the military community. In 2015, he co-founded ‘Rock Our Vets’ with Ted Knapp in support of veterans, their families and the families of fallen first responders. He also collaborated with the non-profit organization WVFV – Work Vessels for Veterans that provides direct services in support of veterans returning from Iraq and Afghanistan.

Thank you Dave: for your heart, your humanity and the soundtrack of our youth. Rest in Peace.

The post Memories of Dave Mason appeared first on Traveling Boy.

The good news: I was given the opportunity to interview the legendary Chicago bluesman, Otis Rush around the mid 90s. Even better news: I had to pick him up at Los Angeles International Airport, do the interview in route and deliver him to his hotel. Obviously, I would need a blues accomplice that would willingly face the 405 freeway during ‘Rush’ hour traffic, then careen into and out of LAX at a peak time, just for the privilege of cruising with Otis Rush. I made one call to long-time blues friend and renowned L.A. musician; Preston Smith.

Little did Mr. Rush realize as he deplaned the relative security of his 707, that he was about to come face to face with real ‘Double Trouble.’ The commute from the airport to his hotel would include a pair of inquisitive blues freaks that wanted to grill him on every historical detail of his storied career. Although seemingly resigned to the fact, I’m pretty sure he began experiencing a few reservations, and almost certainly imagined a number of ‘bluesman abducted’ scenarios, as he haltingly approached Preston’s vintage soccer mom van. After words of encouragement and reassurance, Pres hit the gas and appropriately, blue smoke poured from our ‘limo.’ I turned toward the strapped-in blues legend and hit my record button.

Born in Philadelphia, Mississippi, was your family musical? “My uncle was into music.” Otis said. “It wasn’t planned, just played around the house, you know? That was enough for me. My brother’s all had guitars, but they didn’t play.”

I was surprised to learn you started with harmonica first. “I did start with harmonica first.” Why the change? “Well the guitar was laying over there and I got the harmonica in my hand. So I want to try the guitar, right? I wasn’t doing too great with the harmonica.” (laughing)

Too much competition? “Not at that time. There wasn’t no Little Walter and stuff like that. I never heard the Howlin’ Wolf blow the harmonica, I never heard Junior Wells. It was just me.”

Do you remember when you first heard blues? “Well I listened to the radio all the time. I listened to Western music, you know country music. Eddy Arnold…and the bluegrass boys and all those guys. Aw man, I listened to all of them.”

“Well, I remember crawling on my stomach like a snake trying to keep from gettin’ shot, up in there.” (laughing) “I remember that!”

—- Otis Rush on bar crawling in Chicago

Who do you think influenced you most in your style of play today? “Well I heard John Lee Hooker, see? Then I heard Muddy Waters after I came to Chicago. Muddy was the first guy I saw on the bandstand, and I said, ‘well this is for me’, you know? And they were sounding very good and I felt like I had to do the same thing…to get me going.”

Any others? “All the guys, Howlin’ Wolf…Little Walter. That was after I arrived in Chicago. Chicago was uh… I was really excited, you know? Because I had heard these guys on stage and I said well I gotta’ do something. I was working a day job and I quit the day job to make $5 a night. But like I said it was Muddy! That’s the guys I kept my eyes on. Little Walter, I began to watch him, Willie Mabon, Willie Dixon.”

What kind of work were you doing outside of music? “Oh, I was working at a steel mill, packing house, different places to pay that rent.” (laughing)

Your style of play and association with Cobra label mates is often referred to as Chicago’s ‘West Side Sound.’ “The public came up with this, not me. You know they had the West Side, South Side and North Side. They started naming it Chicago Blues. I don’t know, Chicago Blues, San Francisco, Los Angeles, New York who cares… its Blues, you know? I helped some of the guys get started, like Magic Sam. Magic Sam and Buddy Guy… and like I said, Junior (Wells) was already out there. There’s a lot of guys I helped man, I don’t know, I don’t know their names.”

Let’s talk a little about the clubs of Chicago. Do you remember your first? “It was at 2711 So. Wentworth, Club Alibi. That was where I got my first start. $5 a night.” (laughing)

I remember a story Charlie Musselwhite once told me about bumping into you at a rowdy night spot called the I Spy Lounge. You knew that place, right? “Yea, yea, yea, I do! Well, I remember crawling on my stomach like a snake trying to keep from gettin’ shot, up in there.” (laughing) “I remember that!”

After hearing Musselwhite’s stories about patrons carrying butcher knives, meat cleavers, and the ever popular ‘hogleg’ hidden under shirts or tucked into waist bands, it didn’t come as a huge surprise when he said he too had ‘run into’ Otis while on hands and knees as they both scampered for the exit. Charlie further relayed that Otis had told him, the I Spy was probably the roughest club in Chicago, and if Otis thought that, then it was probably true.

Otis is nodding and with a huge smile across his face, starts to laugh again. “It were rough! Me and my bass player met each other, you know the bar was round…and I’m crawling on the floor trying to get to the front door. And who do I meet but him.” (laughing) “On the floor!” (laughing) “Yeah, they was shootin’ up in there so we was trying to get out.”

You must know Charlie pretty well. Otis is still smiling and nods. “Charlie is a swell dude. Really swell.”

You started as a solo performer. “I’ve always had my own band. I’ve always played lead, but I’ve always had my own group.” And Rush’s bands have always featured stellar musicians. “At some point I had Fred Below, you know the drummer? Louis Myers, Dave Myers. Junior Wells played with me. A lot of other guys, man.”

Looking at some of your recordings, you’ve always seemed to feature some pretty talented guests. Duane Allman for one. “Yea, he was a guitarist on this, (Mourning in the Morning) he was playing second guitar. Luther Tucker was on some of my albums…and shows, you know?”

How did you come to know Duane Allman? “That was through Nick Gravenites, Nick and Mike Bloomfield.” They produced that album. “Yes, so they had them all set up and waiting for me.”

Could you tell us a little about your first recording session at Chess? “I remember it was me, Willie (Dixon) I think Brother Montgomery on piano sometime, Leake sometime. Leake… Lafayette, you know? Different people. That was in the ’60’s at Chess. In the beginning who I recorded for was Cobra, that’s the old stuff, that’s who I started out with in the very beginning, then Chess, then Duke.”

I read that you’ve been credited for playing some of the first electric bass. “Well, me and Willie D. Warrens. We brought electric bass to Chicago. See they didn’t have it up there; they didn’t have no electric bass. Muddy Waters and them was using second guitar, just for bass. Me and Willie D. Warren’s was the one’s that got the bass going. We ran our strings down, the bass strings, giving it a bass sound, different from the guitar tuning. We ran it down and we was the hottest thing in Chicago. Musicians… Stars was coming by to see where we was getting this sound from. Say, ‘you got two guitars up there, how you do this?’ So, about 6 months later everybody had it. They didn’t ask where it come from, they just started playing it.”

Seems to me you should’ve received a little more credit for it. “They was in a hurry man, (laughing) It’s true. Some of them say, ‘Otis, how’d you get this sound?’ Some of them ask my bass player. But true, all of them in a hurry.”

Rush’s music has been recorded by a host of players and musicians; Zeppelin, Mayall, Clapton to mention just a few and almost every rock and roll guitarist in the past half century credits Rush as an influence. That includes Clapton, Page, Beck, Santana… That must make you feel good. “Well it makes me feel real nice. But I’ve got a lot of ground to cover, yet. A lot of work to do.”

Can you talk a little about touring and life on the road. “I’ve been here, home, back, in and out, you know? The only time I do three or four weeks, or a month is when I go to Europe or Japan.”

Let me ask you about some of your blues playing peers and you tell me what comes to mind. Muddy. “Well, Muddy…I didn’t go to his house, I just knew him from the stage and from going to the clubs and he’d come by where I play sometimes, that’s it. I didn’t know him too well, but they was nice peoples.”

James Cotton. “I knew James before he got with Muddy, before he started playing with Muddy. Yea, he was trying to get a gig. Otis Spann, too. Yea, we used to go to clubs together, trying to get gigs. Muddy hired a harmonica player, then he wanted a keyboard and Spann was there.”

Little Walter. “Walter was playing with Muddy when I came to Chicago. And after I got here he broke out on his own style. ‘Juke’, yea, that was… That changed a lot of things? Sure did, sure did!”

George ‘Harmonica’ Smith. “We started out together. He was tough man, you know? He was great on the harmonica, nice dude and he moved out to Los Angeles. He could blow, man.”

Willie Dixon. “Well, Willie sort of helped me get started with Cobra. Before I recorded the first record I didn’t know Willie too well, we just played at the 708 Club. Him and Eli come by and asked, ‘did I want to record?’ I said, ‘Yes!’ you know? Imagine me, hearing myself, playing back a record on me! It was really exciting, the first record.”

John Lee Hooker. “Well I knew him from records in the South. I met him after I got to Chicago. At different places, out here in Los Angeles, I met him at the San Francisco Festival. We played on the same show in Chicago for a week. Albert King for a week. Little Milton for a week. We all goes the same route. It’s the blues, right? If I don’t see the guys on this show, maybe the next show we’ll meet up. If not, two or three shows later. When we’re out of town we’ll meet up. Some of us, then the other’s going the other way.”

How about some of the earlier guys, Robert Johnson or Johnny Shines? “They’re great musicians, you know? I can’t take anything away from Robert or Johnny, they’re all great musicians. Make that known, I love all the guys. And we’re all trying to do something for the blues.”

Anybody I didn’t mention? “I think you mentioned them ALL!” (laughing) “There’s lots more but I can’t think of them. You got Buddy Guy, Jimmy Johnson, they’re great guitarist’s man, great vocalist’s. Little Jimmy Johnson up there in Chicago.”

What is it about the blues that seems to take people so early? “I don’t know, man. It’s just life. You know, life? I feature the blues but I play some of the other stuff too. And I love it, I love it all.”

What are the blues to Otis Rush? “Trouble! Troubles!” (laughter) “Double Troubles! Double troubles, believe me the blues…if you get ’em right, you got the Blues! They come from that woman, and financially… Needs…and you know, Love.”

The show that night at the Music Machine on Pico in West L.A. was unforgettable. And when he broke into ‘Double Trouble,’ I just had to smile when he sang the line, ‘Bad Luck and Trouble has taken me…’

If you want to hear Otis Rush at his best, I’d recommend ‘The Essential Otis Rush’ for his early work with Willie Dixon at Cobra. Then follow his timeline into the 1970’s with ‘Right Place, Wrong Time.’ His sessions with guitarist/producer John Porter and pianist, Bill Paine of Little Feat in the 90’s culminated in one of my favorites, ‘Ain’t Enough Comin’ In.’ And then there’s Rush’s ‘Any Place I’m Going’ which won the Grammy for Best Traditional Blues Album/Recording in 1998. Enjoy.

The post Otis Rush would have turned 92 in 2026 appeared first on Traveling Boy.

John Nemeth is a busy guy. He and his band, the Blue Dreamers, tour constantly and rarely leave the road. But when they do it’s just long enough to feed the heads of their rabid and enthusiastic fan base. Personally, I’ve witnessed multiple Nemeth shows in both intimate and festival settings and not once have I ever seen a patron stagger away without a face full of grin. So when word came down that a new recording was in the works, my grin got wider. “I was under pressure to get my new music out.” John says. “These days you have to put something out every other year. It takes so long to do a full scale production and publicity and it takes some serious capital. So I mixed up the new music (Feelin’ Freaky)and sold it only from the stage for a year. I did not advertise it or promote it. It boosted ticket sales and gave the fans a great raw in the flesh record.”

So the CD ‘Feelin’ Freaky‘ that I’ve had in my car for the past six months has been… upgraded? “We reformatted the album,” John says. “The band really wanted to change some things in the mix and make it vinyl ready. So we remixed it and put the sparkles on it. To make it ready for vinyl we had to re-master it and the result is a super Hi-Fi 180 gram platter. The original album idea did not have my name or album title on it. I loved it but the marketing folks said no way. So we redid the album art and added a lyric book including a fold out jacket with pics from the sessions.”

And the final consensus? “I love it!” John professes. “This has been such a long time coming and is a huge milestone in my career. ‘Feelin’ Freaky’ (Memphis Grease Records) is an all-original album from the deepest reaches of my bag, produced by Luther Dickinson (North Mississippi Allstars, Black Crowes, Phil Lesh and The Word) and performed by the Blue Dreamers along with the grooviest staples of the Memphis Scene.”

The 38th Blues Music Awards are coming up and if my math is correct you’ve received no less than nineteen nominations since your Best New Artist debut in 2008. Once again you’re on the short list for the B.B. King Entertainer of the Year. How does that happen? “I think a lot of my entertainment style is very old school,” John says. “It’s very ’40s and ’50s driven, but I let the music do the talking. And when the songs done, then I speak. But I don’t use a song to be a vehicle for just fanfare, that’s not what I’m in it for. I’m in it for staying true to the song and playing it like the record. That’s my gig. And that’s a lot like B.B. King, so in doing that, that’s how I’ve gotten the nomination for that kind of award.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“It’s just got a funky culture about it, you know? That feel in the music is the feel of the city. It’s the people; it’s everything about that town.”

– John Nemeth on why he loves living in Memphis

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

How would you describe John Nemeth’s music? “John’s music,” he grins. “John makes up a vocal line and a melody and all of a sudden you’ve got something like,” he breaks into song. ‘If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. When you got it good, don’t nix it. If you take it straight, don’t mix it. Don’t go looking for love when you got it, if it ain’t broke.’ What I sing has a groove to it and I take this to the band and I say, ‘band this is going to be something a little different than you’ve done before and I want you to play right with my groove. When you play right in my groove, then you’re right in my wheelhouse. It’s a common misconception that it’s just the melody, but no it’s the melody and the phrasing of the melody and that’s what I love about all the great blues guys, that great delivery.”

John Nemeth and the Blue Dreamers. Photo: Yachiyo Mattox

You would be hard-pressed to categorize Nemeth’s music into one genre; his live shows can glide through slow blues and contemporary soul ballads only to turn, twist and torque fans into a frenzied, funky dance sweat. There seems to be no limits or restraints to the Nemeth sound. According to John, there’s a perfectly good reason for that. “I started off my career in a town that didn’t care what you played so long as it was good music. My first gig was actually outside of my hometown, an even deeper culture out there in the sticks. I started playing at this place called the Grubstake Saloon in Horseshoe Bend, Idaho. The guy hired me and said, ‘listen I want you to play outlaw country, I want you to play Credence, Chuck Berry and whatever else.’ So the ‘whatever else’ was blues. We learned from playing the hits to these folks and how to make your songs work like hits. I mean now the music industry is in such a bizarro place, you know? A guy like me… the music business is so conservative they just don’t go that freaky like they used to. Old guys back in the day… the old guys would say, ‘Wow, this is something new, have you ever heard anything like this? Well hey, we got it first, we’re putting it out. What happened to that? You wonder why the music business is failing, it’s because people are too afraid to try something new and fresh.” John pauses, “And going fresh, means going back to the old days.”

Last year I caught you at Gator by the Bay in San Diego and you were on stage with Johnny Vernazza and Roy Rogers, did you meet them in the Bay Area? “I met those guys in Idaho. I’d never even seen them play. There’s a bar called the Blues Bouquet. You know I’ve been to a million bars in America, and I have to say the Blues Bouquet was one of the most beautiful bars in the whole United States. It had a bar that was probably one hundred and fifty feet long. I’d never seen anything like it and all mirrored out and beautiful patina on it. The bars are where it’s at, I played five nights a week and these guys came through there. I used to see Johnny V with Norton Buffalo all the time. Because Norton Buffalo had a wife from Nampa, Idaho, he used to come up there all the time. How cool is that? And I remember the strangest thing, man. I’m playing harmonica out back and Norton walks out and he says, ‘Hey man, how are you playing that harmonica?’ And I said, ‘Well, I curl my tongue and use it to block out the other holes.’ And he says, ‘Man, I recognize that. That’s exactly how I play.’ I said, ‘No way!’ And nobody plays like that, it’s like you and me, brother.” (laughing)

L to R: Johnny Vernazza, John Nemeth and Roy Rogers. Photo: T. Mattox

I know you haven’t been playing with Roy and Johnny a lot, but when you got together on stage, it really felt and sounded like you’d been touring for months… “That is a pure creative moment up there. We talked about what we were going to play and we put the set list together right back behind the stage. You know what it is, we all listened to the real old blues…that feel, that attitude about it. We’ve listened to all those same cats and that has seeped into our soul.”

What took you from the Bay Area to Memphis? “It just got too expensive. I had a baby girl and everything, everywhere is going up. If you’re a working musician that’s never had a hit, well you’re never gonna’ make it playin’ music in the Bay Area. That’s just the way it is, man. I mean, you have to have some major success to hang in there. So I told my wife that we’re gonna’ need to move and she says, ‘Well, where are we gonna’ go?’ I thought for a moment and said, ‘I think we should go to Memphis.’ So we flew out there and checked it out for a week and if we liked it we were gonna’ get a place. And we both really liked the city, it’s just got a funky culture about it, you know? That feel in the music is the feel of the city. It’s the people; it’s everything about that town. It’s why Johnny Cash still has that same element that Otis Redding has. Don’t cheat the backbeat; it’s very hip-driven music and every facet you can drive with your hips.”

The original music you create has such a familiar feel to it, how do you approach song-writing? “Spontaneous.” He says. “There’s no real getting worked up to do something but I force myself to be aware of when it’s time to go. Like, hey baby not today… song coming. And I get right in it. I’ll get about 75 percent of the song done and then the last 25 percent, that’s what takes a month or two with some serious thought about it and that’s the difference.

A previous project, ‘Memphis Grease‘ received amazing accolades from both critics and fans; you had to be happy about that. “That was a great record, man.” He grins.

Can you talk a little about working with the Bo-Keys? “Well, I tell you what, working with the Bo-Keys is great! A-number One is the baddest drummer on the planet. He has been mimicked ever since, I don’t know, ’66, ’67? He’s the guy that invented the straight beat and how you can work around it. I mean you can listen to AC-DC and you hear Howard Grimes. Howard Grimes is the guy on all the Al Green music. He’s the rhythm behind makin’ babies. Howard Grimes is the man. When I cut the record and went out on a coast-to-coast tour with Howard Grimes, that’s when I had a shift in my understanding of things… knowing that most of my music is based around Memphis. I’m a big fan of Memphis music and that whole region right there.”

I gotta’ ask about your fashion sense, you’re the only guy I know who wears coveralls to play. It’s the ultimate working man’s wear. “You know the suits just kept getting tighter! Living in Memphis is difficult, when I’m off the road I have friends and family visiting and they want to eat fried chicken and bar-be-cue. And man, the best bar-be-cue in the world is in Memphis. Trust me, I’ve played all the bar-be-cue joints and I’ve eaten at the ones that don’t have music and I’m a connoisseur, look at me. That’s why I’m in the coveralls. These are so nice and I can sleep in these, too. They are so comfortable to sleep in, some nights I just turn the TV on and watch the Warriors play or the Grizzlies, it’s beautiful.” (laughing)

Nemeth and Deanna Bogart on Rosarito Beach, Baja Mexico 2016

You’ve played with so many people; let’s talk about a few of your musical pals…Junior Watson. “Tell you what; Junior Watson is probably one of the greatest talents I’ve ever had the opportunity to work with. Junior can play anything and make anything his own. He is a master, he is a master and that’s why he is loved around the world. He’s a beautiful spirit and a big pain in the ass sometimes, but you got to pay a price for something in this world. Junior Watson is well worth it, he’s the greatest.”

Anson Funderburgh. “That was the gig where I really learned to sing the blues. I was filling in for Sam Myers because he had throat cancer. Man, it was the biggest job I ever had to fill, and I mean there’s no filling it. Sam Myers had groove and wisdom beyond my years, but I thought it was really cool that Anson gave me a shot to sing with that great band. He in turn helped me out and produced my ‘Magic Touch’ record which was my first big record for Blind Pig. He’s a great guy and he’s got a wonderful family… a calm and creative cat.”

Rick Estrin. “Oh man, I love Rick Estrin, I love Rick Estrin’s songwriting. I love his wit and humor; I’m a big fan of Louis Jordan and Nat King Cole, that jive-style of songwriting. Rick is a master at writing great songs. I’ve done the ‘Booty Song,’ If you dig it, ‘Don’t Do It.’ His version of ‘My Last Meal,’ I’ve done ‘Dump That Chump,’ and ‘Smart Like Einstein.’ I’ve done, ‘I’ll Take you Back,’ and ‘Side Stuff.’ He’s been a huge help for me.”

Another harp master, Charlie Musselwhite. “Oh, I love Charlie Musselwhite. Talk about a guy that has the guts to re-invent his own way of playing blues harmonica and it’s fabulous.”

Living in Memphis, you must hear a lot of great musicians and players. “I get to go see this great guy, Earl the Pearl. He plays every Tuesday and Saturday and he has members of the Hi Rhythm Section backing him up. They’re just a fabulous band and they respect him so much. And he can play the most simple, beautiful blues and he can sing so simply and beautifully and in such a groove and that’s exactly what Charlie Musslewhite has too. He has that calm and guts to play some wildly, harmonically beautiful stuff. He paints a real soundscape for the audience.”

Musselwhite came up during an era that featured a whole host of harp players including Paul Butterfield. “Oh, another great harmonica player, Paul Butterfield was another great guy. All those guys have rubbed off on me so much. I didn’t get to work with Butterfield, but I did get to work with Elvin Bishop and that’s pretty close. I don’t know how many records I did with them. Elvin has a hell of a groove, Elvin can make people feel wonderful. It’s a constant joy up there when Elvin is playing. Even the hardest hitting stuff has this positive energy flowing out of it and that’s an amazing skill. And Elvin Bishop was a part of that sound and a part of shaping the landscape of the Seventies. Those guys had a lot to do with how people understand groove now. You know, Sam Lay and I think Jerome Arnold was the rhythm section in that band… Wow!“

Nemeth surrounded by friends and fans. Photo: Yachiyo Mattox

Any parting wisdom you’d care to share? “Don’t be afraid to have a good time and don’t second guess yourself. If you have the notion to go out and listen to some good music and dance and have yourself a good time… just do it! Even if you’re starting to feel a little tired, go out there and you’ll feel better than you’ve ever felt before… or maybe in a long time. And the rest of your week will be better and better. So just get out there and see some music, hear some music, move to some music, its part of being human.”

Check out John Nemeth’s remixed, reformatted and remastered CD ‘Feelin’ Freaky‘ scheduled for release on May 19th this year. And for a great night of live music and entertainment peruse www.johnnemeth.com for tour dates and times near you. Rest up, ’cause you’ll need it.

The post John Németh garners four more Blues Music Award nominations in 2026 appeared first on Traveling Boy.

“The blues,” according to John Hammond, “is the most honest way of looking at life. It’s reality but with humor and the deepest feeling. Blues is not like sadness, blues is like…depth. Like the sky is blue, like the ocean is blue, it’s forever.”

A musical philosophy that John’s fans embrace every time he takes the stage. His style reflects an earthiness, a richness that’s steeped in blues tradition. When he speaks of the early masters, you can hear the admiration in his voice. So it really comes as no surprise to learn Hammond, like most of his blues predecessors, honed his chops on the street.

“That’s where I started playing professionally. That was 1962. I played on street corners and little coffee houses, at picnics. Anywhere I could get heard. When you’re starting out, you’ll play for whoever will listen.

Blind Boy Fuller, a lot of the guys, Blind Willie McTell, Blind Blake, all these guys were street players and this is a tradition that goes back as far as time.”

Time, as far as the Blues are concerned, started when John turned seven.

“I remember hearing Big Bill Broonzy and Josh White, Sonny Terry and Brownie McGhee. I grew up in New York City in the 1940’s and 50’s. In the 1950’s there was a disc jockey named Alan Freed and he played a lot of R & B, blues influenced, what became rock and roll. Guys like Ray Charles, Little Richard, Bo Diddley and Chuck Berry. Gene Vincent, Jerry Lee Lewis and Elvis Presley. Those were my earliest musical discoveries…that I latched on to.”

Hammond, the son of legendary record exec and talent scout John Henry Hammond, seemed intent on becoming his own bluesman, his own way. He took a giant leap in that direction in 1963 at the Newport Folk Festival.

“In the 60’s that was the biggest gathering of folk artists and about the most prestigious thing. I’d been playing for about a year and I was invited to play there. It was a tremendous honor and I happened to do very well that day. It led to a lot of good things for me.”

The resulting album catapulted Hammond into the national spotlight. His music features the traditional instrumentation of harmonica, guitar and vocals, yet he seems more than comfortable exploring multiple, regional styles and varied techniques in his performances. A potpourri if you will; from Texas and Mississippi country blues, some bottleneck slide, maybe a sampling of ragtime with a bit of Eastern seaboard Piedmont, John pays homage with every set he plays. It’s little wonder why he became a ‘bridge’ between early Delta players and the then, modern-day folk performers. A bond that grows ever stronger when Hammond reflects on the originators that became mentors. There’s a respect, almost a reverence, when he talks about the man known as the ‘King of the Delta’ players, Robert Johnson.

“Well, I would say in terms of my actually playing the guitar and playing professionally, I’d say he (Johnson) was my inspiration. I’d heard a lot of the country blues artists and I thought he was like the synthesis of all of them. He had styles of Lonnie Johnson and Blind Boy Fuller. He had obviously heard everybody and he had come up with his own style. He was just a phenomenal player.”
John Hammond in concert

Over a career that now approaches five decades, Hammond has recorded and performed with some of the most talented and significant musicians of the last century. His impressive body of work (I lost count after more than two dozen albums) is truly a living aural history of America’s Blues. If you ask John about favorites he just smiles.

“I worked a lot of gigs with Sam Hopkins. He was a really dynamic player. I was very impressed with the fact that he was a solo artist and could put so much emotion and feeling into his playing. His voice was so powerful, he was just a mesmerizing artist.”

Another bluesman that John considered larger-than-life was John Lee Hooker.

“When I first heard John Lee, I guess it was 1956. I imagined him to be probably seven feet tall and ate like whole chickens for dinner and stuff. It was a tremendous surprise when I met him and saw he was about five foot five and a really slender guy. But when he opened his mouth to sing, this incredible, incredible voice spanned the ages.”

In the early 60’s a blues contemporary, Michael Bloomfield, introduced Hammond to Muddy Waters as well as a couple of studio players who were working to make a name for themselves.

“I recorded twice with Michael. I made an album in 1964 called, ‘So Many Roads’ with Michael, Robbie Robertson, Levon Helm, Garth Hudson and Rick Danko. I met Michael the first time I went to Chicago in 1961. I was hanging out and saw a blues festival at the University of Chicago and I met him there. We just became friends immediately. We were both blues fanatics, but Michael knew ALL the guys. I mean Michael jammed with Howlin’ Wolf and Muddy Waters and everybody. To meet Michael was like an introduction to the entire Chicago scene. He was a wonderful guy. He was a friendly, wonderful man and I miss him a lot.”

(Gone too soon, Bloomfield was found dead in his car from a drug overdose in San Francisco, February 1981. Michael Bloomfield was just 37 years old.)

Hammond’s own reputation as a bluesman was continuing to grow and it wasn’t long before other musicians began to recognize his talents. John Mayall would become one such believer.

“On my first tour to England, I was fortunate enough to be on a show with him (Mayall) in South Hampton. We just, sort of, started talking. He had never heard of me and I had never heard of him. We became friends right away. He had a band at that time, that included Eric Clapton and Stevie Winwood and oh, God, just about who’s who in the British rock scene. This was before they had become big stars. We sort of hung out and we did a little tour together. We got invited to do a TV show called, ‘Ready, Steady, Goes Live’ and they backed me up as my band. It was really phenomenal.”

Hammond’s musical collaborations, both then and now, have been all encompassing. Not only has he played and toured with Mayall and Clapton and recorded with Spooner Oldham and Duane Allman, but for a short period early in his career, shared the stage with a young guitarist named Jimmy.

“He called himself Jimmy James then. Unfortunately it was just about a two-week time span that I got to know him. He played with me and we put a little band together in New York at a club called Cafe A-Go-Go. It was there he was discovered and went off to England and became a big star.”

It didn’t take long for the rest of the world to recognize the phenomenal talents of Jimmy James, only you and I got to know him as….Hendrix, Jimi Hendrix.

The British connection also played a significant role in Hammond’s ‘I Can Tell’ album sessions.

“The Rolling Stones were in New York. I had met them, they had come to hear me play at the Village Gate and then I went over to England. I was very good friends with Brian Jones. Brian was wanting to play harmonica on the session, but I said, ‘No, I’m playing harmonica.’ And Bill (Wyman) said, ‘Gee, I know you don’t play bass.’ So Bill played the bass on it. It was a real super session. Artie Butler on the piano, Bill on the bass, Robbie Robertson on guitar, me on guitar and Charles Otis on drums.”

A Grammy Award-winner, John takes great pride in his craft but places an even higher value on his friendships. And his friends run the gamut from the late Roosevelt ‘Honeydripper’ Sykes to legendary harmonica ace, Charlie Musselwhite.

“Charlie played the finest harmonica, and still does to this day. He’s one of my idols and a great friend of mine.”

The road continues to twist and turn for John Hammond. The miles have taken him from street corners to international music festivals, from roadhouses to supper clubs. But when it comes to status, nothing holds a candle to the performances at New York’s prestigious Carnegie Hall.

“It is a thrill. It’s one of the most beautiful theaters that there is…in the world. I mean you look up and there’s five tiers of golden balcony. Your knees tremble, literally your knees tremble.”

But Hammond, the journeyman, remains rooted. He’s a realist who candidly admits to playing some of the lesser known venues.

“A lot of the clubs I played, where I wondered, ‘what the hell I was doing there?’ I really was fortunate that there wasn’t holes in my head.

Always the essence of diplomacy, “I don’t want to mention any names,” the legendary bluesman laughs, “because I may have to play there again.”

The post The Journeyman: Plumbing the Depths with John Hammond appeared first on Traveling Boy.

Wiseman has spent more than half a century documenting the structures, contradictions and rituals of modern life. In Titicut Follies (1967), Wiseman’s landmark debut film takes us inside a Massachusetts institution for the criminally insane, unflinchingly documenting the treatment and mistreatment of inmates. Often blurring the distinction between doctors and patients, and at times harrowing to watch, the film was prohibited from general distribution in the USA for almost 25 years.

More recent, expansive cultural institutions include the New York Public Library (Ex Libris, 2017) and the Opéra de Paris (La Danse, 2009).

While producing a film, Wiseman often acquired more than 100 hours of raw footage. His ability to create an engaging and interesting feature-length film without the use of voice-over, title cards, or motion graphics had been described as the reason Wiseman is seen as a true master of documentary film.

His works affected American institutions and attempted to hold institutions accountable for moral and ethical situations. He was noted as one of the most admired and influential filmmakers by the Associated Press. The Guardian called Wiseman’s films “monuments to human suffering and human challenge and human potential.”

Wiseman said, “My films are based on unstaged, un-manipulated actions. The editing is highly manipulative, and the shooting is highly manipulative… What you choose to shoot, the way you shoot it, the way you edit it and the way you structure it… all of those things… represent subjective choices that you have to make. In [Belfast, Maine] I had 110 hours of material … I only used 4 hours – near nothing. The compression within a sequence represents choice and then the way the sequences are arranged in relationship to the other represents choice.”

Wiseman’s death was announced in a joint statement from the Wiseman family and Zipporah Films:

“For nearly six decades, Frederick Wiseman created an unparalleled body of work, a sweeping cinematic record of contemporary social institutions and ordinary human experience primarily in the United States and France,” the statement read. “His films – from ‘Titicut Follies’ (1967) to his most recent work, ‘Menus-Plaisirs – Les Troisgros’ (2023) – are celebrated for their complexity, narrative power and humanist gaze. He produced and directed all of his 45 films under the banner of Zipporah Films, Inc.”

Wiseman announced his retirement in 2025 due to the lack of energy to make further films.

The post Frederick Wiseman: RIP appeared first on Traveling Boy.

This will be the third Paralympic Games hosted in Italy. It also marks the 50th anniversary of the Winter Paralympic Games.

The Games are expected to feature 79 events in six Winter Paralympic sports. A mixed doubles event will make its debut in wheelchair curling. A total of 665 athlete quota places are available: 323 for men, 176 for women, and 166 gender-free.

The Paralympics were established to provide elite competition for athletes with disabilities, originally created by Dr. Ludwig Guttmann in 1948 England to aid the rehabilitation of World War II veterans with spinal cord injuries. They promote equality, challenge perceptions of disability, and showcase incredible physical, and psychological, athletic achievement.

Why do the Paralympics exist:

• Rehabilitation & Social Integration: The first games, known as the Stoke Mandeville Games, began as a way to help war veterans with disabilities regain physical strength, self-esteem, and social confidence.
• A “Parallel” Elite Competition: The name “Paralympic” derives from the Greek preposition “para” (beside or alongside) and “Olympics,” meaning they are games held alongside the Olympic Games to celebrate, not just rehabilitate, athletes with a wide range of impairments.
• Shifting Perceptions: The Games aim to focus on ability rather than disability, fostering a more inclusive world by showcasing elite-level performance.
• Global Unity: Since the 1960 Rome Games, the event has grown into a major international sporting event that brings athletes with varied disabilities together in the spirit of friendship and competition.

The competition events are:

Alpine Skiing:

• Downhill (sitting, standing, visually impaired): women – men
• Super-G (sitting, standing, visually impaired): women – men
• Giant slalom (sitting, standing, visually impaired): women – men
• Slalom (sitting, standing, visually impaired): women – men
• Super combined (sitting, standing, visually impaired): women – men

Also:

• Para biathlon
• Para cross-country skiing
• Para ice hockey
• Para snowboard
• Wheelchair curling

With one month to go, the Paralympics are ready to take over Italy and turn Milano Cortina into the global stage for the very best of Para sport.

Support the Team USA dream

Your 100% tax deductible gift fuels Team USA athletes as they pursue excellence at the 2026 Milano Cortina Olympic and Paralympic Games – and strengthens their journey long after the Games are over.

Your support assists with the cost of training, health and wellness resources, innovative equipment and more as Team USA athletes strive to reach the podium.

100% of your gift goes to athletes and the programs that make their dreams possible.

Donate to Team USA Fund | TeamUSA.com

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No matter how you feel about the blues, the fact is they originated out of necessity as a unique, free form means of communication. Refined shouts and hollers and syncopated work rhythms that could both inform and entertain. Field hands often learned of the latest plantation news while maintaining a steady working pace or they might sing and shout along with songs based on legendary tales or Delta lore.  Following that line of thought, the blues could very well be considered the original Internet.

The Blues according to Johnny Winter… “it makes me feel good.
It makes me very happy.” Photo by: Yachiyo Mattox

The Blues traveled out of the Deep South, northward, strapped to the backs of laborers searching for something, anything better. They eventually found both coasts via minstrel wagons, empty boxcars and countless miles of dust-choked roads. Pausing only long enough for donations and scattered applause, the blues could be found at most crossroads, on busy street corners, in jukes, roadhouses and the occasional community fish fry.

Nothing could stop them; not mountains, oceans, or borders, poverty, not even wars. If anything, those challenges just fanned the flames. World War II instantly spread the genre to international shores. When you think about it, it’s impossible to not experience ‘the blues’ when you’re far from home, missing the ones you love and then there’s that little matter of having a country full of people you don’t even know, trying to kill you! Pretty much your ultimate mood breaker.

Chicago harp legend, James ‘Snooky’ Pryor witnessed some of the fiercest and bloodiest fighting through the Soloman Island chain in the South Pacific. He told me after TAPS every night, they would leave the Army PA system hot and Snooky would break out his harmonica and blow some mournful, moaning blues through the dense, jungle battle lines.

You just know, that had to create a major pucker factor for the Japanese fighting forces. Sitting in total darkness, on an island in the middle of nowhere and hearing this woeful, wail drifting through the banana trees and coconut palms. Got those mean old, low down propaganda blues, AGAIN! Amplified, no less….another military ‘blues’ first. And I still can’t listen to Snooky play ‘Judgment Day’ without thinking about that story.

Post war prosperity cast new light and gave players fresh perspective. The blues began to jump and swing more than ever. An edgier sound electrified Memphis and Chicago and as the 1950’s dawned, a younger, hipper and whiter audience began to plug in. I think it was McKinley Morganfield who said it best, “The Blues had a baby and they named it Rock and Roll.”

Carl Perkins, Little Richard Penniman, Elvis, Ike Turner, Jerry Lee Lewis, Bo Diddley, Chuck Berry and dozens of others began to stretch and eventually blur music’s segregated boundaries. Pandemonium ensued. The Rock and Roll onslaught gave much wider exposure to blues and folk music and breathed new life into the musicians that played them.

As the phenomenon spread into 1960’s Europe, it seemed to reign-down heaviest in the United Kingdom. British teens especially, became infatuated with early Delta players and began plumbing blues roots and recordings. Adding their own style and presentation to the traditional, they packed up guitars, amps and drum kits and brought it right back to America. And America discovered the Blues all over again.

An extraordinary route to travel and even Johnny Winter had a tough time explaining it. “It’s very strange,” he said. “I don’t know why it took that. I guess the blues has always been around and people didn’t think much of it. When the English people started doing it, it was a whole different thing and they (American youth) picked up on it.”

Pick up on it, they did and this time on a much larger and more enthusiastic scale. The Newport Jazz Festival in 1960 featured Muddy Waters with his band that included Otis Spann and James Cotton. The Newport Folk Festival provided a showcase for a whole host of the originators, from Son House and Robert Pete Williams, to Sleepy John Estes and Mississippi John Hurt.

Bill Graham’s ‘Winterland’ and both Fillmore venues packed them in with Rock and Blues bills. Johnny Winter, Albert King, Hot Tuna, Janis Joplin, the Allman Brothers and Charlie Musselwhite. James Cotton readily admitted he’d done the East Coast – West Coast Fillmore run so many times, “he half-expected to die somewhere in-between.” Chicago’s Southside clubs spread rapidly into the suburban north side thanks in part to Mike Bloomfield, Big Joe Williams and a few dozen special friends.

The music was breaking down the cultural and racial barriers and replacing them with stronger, albeit ‘tie-dyed’ bonds to a brand new and very receptive generation of fans. The fervor behind the British Invasion added a tremendous amount of alternatives to the mix. And it’s quite possible that the respect shown by overseas fans toward our blues elders became the catalyst for America’s youth to take a second listen.

For a great number of baby boomers, myself included, if it hadn’t been for John Mayall and the Bluesbreakers, the Stones, Zeppelin, Cream and of course our homegrown, Johnny Winter, Jimi, Janis, Paul Butterfield and the Doors, we may have never RE-discovered the awesome talents of Chester Burnett, Willie Dixon, McKinley Morganfield, not to mention those who came before.

Just goes to show, you’ve got to keep those lines of communication open. Either that or invest in call waiting.

The post Celebration of the Blues in February (Black History Month) appeared first on Traveling Boy.

It should have been so obvious, but who better to profile in this continuing series, than those who live most of their lives ‘on the road.’ No, I’m not talking about long-haul truckers or UPS deliverymen, nor am I referring to cabbies or regional sales reps. I speak of those who continue to travel the byways, back roads and endless ribbons of black top to play the music they love. I’m referring, of course, to the journeymen and women of the Blues, and their lifelong quest for that elusive ‘Key to the Highway.

Much like early pioneers, blues players have blazed trails from coast to coast and continent to continent to ply their trade. From the earliest field workers that followed ripening crops and the turn of the century ‘snake oil’ and minstrel shows, to the guitarist on the corner with an upturned hat filled with coins, the origins of the blues and life’s crossroads have become one in the same. So lace up your ‘Walking Shoes’ and let’s ‘Hit the road… Jack.’

Living the Blues

If there are qualifications for the term blues journeyman, Charlie Musselwhite wrote them. This now, living legend was born a blues traveler. The old Natchez Trace ran right through his families Kosciusko, Mississippi home. His introduction to the blues came when just a child, as he lay on the shady side of a creek bed. “I remember listening to people singing in the fields as they worked,” Charlie told me. “It was the prettiest music I ever heard and it sounded just like I felt. And they were singing the blues.”

In the 1950’s, Charlie’s musical direction would become engrained on the front porches of some of Memphis’ local legends; names like Gus Cannon, Furry Lewis, ‘Memphis’ Minnie Douglas and W.C. Handy. But it was at the knee of Will Shade that Charlie credits for his introduction to the blues. “I would hang around their houses all the time, listen to the radio, the ballgame or something. All the musicians from that era knew Will (from his time with the Memphis Jug Band) and respected him. There would be spontaneous jam sessions and I would be playing right along, you know?”

Over the years, Charlie discovered that the streets of Memphis were literally paved with talent. Johnny Burnette lived just a few houses away and early rock-a-billy star, Slim Rhoades would have picnics in his yard for the entire neighborhood. But the world was quickly changing and thanks to Sam Phillips and his Sun Record label, music was too. Memphis was about to become ground zero for something totally different.

“The Killer was always around. Jerry Lee Lewis. I used to see him tearing up and down the streets. He had this orange and red convertible Lincoln. And Charlie’s smile grew as he recalled, “I used to see Elvis. He would rent the Memphian Theatre after hours and show all the latest movies. And a whole bunch of Road Runner cartoons, because he loved the Road Runner. Sometimes he would rent the whole Memphis fairgrounds, from midnight to eight in the morning. All the rides would be free. People would just roam around and have a good time. He would speak; say hi, although I never talked to him about music or anything. But he recognized me as one of the group that hung around. Probably wondered how I got in there.” (Laughs)

Little did Charlie realize, his own ride was about to pick up speed. After hearing from friends that there were factories in Chicago that paid $3.00 an hour, Charlie was hooked, “Wow, man!” he shouted, “$3 an hour! I’d be a rich man if I could get a job like that. So, I went up there.”

It wasn’t easy but Musselwhite finally found work as, what else, a driver…for an extermination company. As he daily traveled the back streets and boulevards of Chicago, “I’d pass a bar that had a sign on the front of it saying, ‘Little Walter, Wednesday night.’ I’d see all these places, write down the addresses and be right down there at night. Here were these people I’d been listening to and there they were. Man, it was such a thrill to walk in and see Howlin’ Wolf for the first time. The power that he emanated was just awesome, and the band was just…. I was just slack jawed. I couldn’t even drink my drink. I was just glued into what was happening.”

As usual, and just like all those years in Memphis, being the only white face in the crowd would prompt questions. “People would want to know, ‘Hey what are you doing in here?’ I’d just say, “I came to listen, I really love this music. When they found out I played, they’d want me to sit in. After I’d sit in and they really liked it, people started hiring me to play with them.”

This became life-altering for young Charlie Musselwhite. “Here I had a great future in exterminating,” he laughs, “and just threw it all away to play harp.”

Frequently finding himself across the stage from established players like Shakey Walter Horton, Muddy Waters, Charles Edwards and Big John Wrencher, Charlie was gaining a wealth of experience and living a blues man’s dream.

“Five of us would stand there, shoulder to shoulder and just pass the harp back and forth, trying to out blow one another. It would be a real harp battle, all good-natured though.”

Charlie’s admiration and appreciation of fellow players remains to this day. “Shakey (Big Walter) Horton was just a monster. A lot of people don’t realize what a good harp player he was.” Some believe he influenced Little Walter tremendously, “only Little Walter was more business minded and got himself together. Where Shakey would just as soon be out in the alley playing with his friends, drinking wine. He didn’t give a damn about record companies. He’d done all that. He just played harmonica.”

Charlie could usually be found at Rose and Kelly’s Blue Lounge and was a regular at Turner’s Blue Lounge on Indiana Avenue. But when the subject of rough clubs or tough bars was mentioned, the name that came up most often was a place called the ‘I Spy Lounge.’

“Otis (Rush) said that was the roughest club he ever worked in. If Otis said it was the roughest, I tended to believe him. People always were in there, you’d see the bulge where their pistols were, people carrying butcher knives and stuff.” But it didn’t phase Charlie. “I was just having such a great time, I didn’t give a damn. I was wild and drinking. Every once in a while I’d get in some trouble with somebody, but I was big enough to take care of myself. I never would back up from anybody. So right away they’d figure I was either crazy (laughs) or not worth messing with.”

I’m thinking probably a little of both.

In 1966, once again the road beckoned. After recording his first album, Musselwhite started receiving calls and music inquiries from the West Coast. At the time, he was married, had one child and a steady daytime job in a Chicago area factory. The offer was one Charlie just couldn’t refuse.

“I got off the plane in California. It was sunny, people were nice, they were smiling at you, friendly and courteous. I didn’t believe such a place existed. I called my wife and said, ‘you better come on out here because I’m not coming back. (laughs) The first place I played was the Fillmore and ‘Wow, it was like working in an airplane hanger.’ I’d never seen so many people at one time, and they were all so nice, throwing flowers at you. It was a whole new scene and I stayed.” Laughing, Charlie adds, “And I’ve been working ever since.”

His family’s migration from the frigid shoreline of the Windy City to San Francisco’s ‘Summer of Love’ was not unlike moving to a foreign land.

“It was really a culture shock,” Charlie said, “The free love and people wearing flowers in their hair.” It would take him a while to adjust. And adjusting to Haight-Ashbury in the late 60’s was no easy task.

“I used to go down (to Haight Street) and just watch these weird looking people walking around in these weird clothes, and these weird hairdos.” Being relatively normal looking, Charlie added, “People would come up to me and say, ‘You’re Charlie Musselwhite?’ I’d say yeah and with a look of amazement they’d just shake their heads and say, ‘I didn’t know you were…. straight.'”

No matter what his bent, timing couldn’t have been better for Charlie. And San Francisco was definitely the right place. The Blues were being discovered by a new generation of young people and rediscovered by long time aficionados. Artists, musicians and players from all over the country, and the rest of the world, poured into the Bay Area. Blues venues popped up like proverbial mushrooms, from clubs and bars to open air ‘happenings.’ The Summer of Love was fast becoming the ultimate creative musical environment.

“Janis Joplin was around. We hit it off great, because she liked to drink like I did. We had some real good times together. Meeting different musicians that I’d never met before and playing different kinds of music.” Smiling, Charlie adds, “It was just great times, you know?”

Musselwhite’s peers also have a great deal of respect for his talents. Among them, the man considered by many to be the ‘Father of British Blues,’ John Mayall:

“I’ve always thought he (Musselwhite) was a great harmonica player, very under rated. He had that heavy style that I couldn’t get, like Paul Butterfield had, that heavy electronic sound. Charlie Musselwhite was one of the first white harp players that I heard when I came over to America.”

My way IS the Highway!!

Charlie’s road has taken him from the Blues Mecca of post-war Beale Street in Memphis through Chicago’s Southside, eventually dropping him into the middle of San Francisco’s Summer of Love. He still lives in California and continues to travel the world playing bars, clubs, and festivals but still finds time to record some of the best blues music available today. He has shared the stage with some of music’s greatest players including Muddy Waters, Shakey Walter Horton, John Lee Hooker, Janis Joplin and even the Rolling Stones. His mastery of the harmonica is and continues to be the driving force behind his blues, but he’s the first to admit, “Blues is more than just a type of music. It’s a real feeling, an attitude about life.” When you see him play, you just know Charlie Musselwhite was born with an attitude.

The post Charlie Musselwhite: Life on the Road appeared first on Traveling Boy.