The 1930’s were not kind years. As fertile Midwestern cropland dried up from careless farming techniques, the American economy disintegrated with the 1929 Wall Street Crash- leaving the United States in the throes of turmoil and uncertain about her future. In Europe, Adolph Hitler began fooling his followers whilst Comrade Stalin was busy fooling himself. By 1930 it was official- after a decade of loose behavior and carefree decadence in which America indulged following the wake of the First World War; the West would have to endure the strenuous purgatory of a global depression. With mass food shortages, rampant unemployment, and another armed world conflict looming on the horizon, the American people were in for hard times.
And nobody knew this better than delta-bluesman Robert Johnson.
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You can attach virtually any superlative onto Robert Johnson’s name, and generally it will hole true. He was the greatest bluesman of all time, the most influential black guitarist, the most soulful delta singer, and ultimately- the most tragic figure in blues.
Yet, for all his talent and influence, much of Robert’s life is shrouded in mystery. For starters, only two photographs are known to exist of Johnson, and his premature death has long been speculated to be the result of a poisoning attempt by a jealous lover. The mythic figure is also somewhat of an enigma to understand personally- Robert sung with a flamboyant confidence while on record, yet he once was so frightened that he played an entire show with his back towards the audience- just so he wouldn't have to face them.
Nearly all details on his short life have been gathered from friends and acquaintances, thus calling into question the validity of nearly everything Johnson-related. What
is known for certain, however, is that he was a master at his craft- he could play the delta blues better than any one else- past or present, and he possessed the single-most hauntingly lonesome voice in all music of the past century.
And of course, there’s the pact with the Devil.
It has long been rumored that Robert Johnson’s incredible talent had been obtained at the expense of his soul by a fabled encounter with Lucifer. As the legend holds, a young Robert- (who had been laughed out of town for his lacking musical aptitude), went to the crossing of Highways 61 and 49 near Clarksdale, Mississippi with his guitar- arriving just before midnight. From out of the darkness, a well-dressed man with a dark face strolled up to Johnson, tuned the guitar, and then returned it to Robert’s hands. This, it is said, was the transaction that made Johnson the blues virtuoso that he was. While Johnson never directly acknowledged the story to be true, many of his epic songs deal with his strange fascination with (or fear of) the Devil, and his chilling lyrics seem to suggest that he was forever aware that his time on Earth was always in danger of sudden expiration.
(Take for example,
Me And the Devil Blues:)
Early this mornin',
Oh, when you knocked upon my door?
And I said, "Hello, Satan,"
I believe it's time to go?
Whether or not the words that he sings have any truth to them, the stories of his contract with Satan- coupled with his unclear death at the age of 28, have only helped solidify his status as the immortal king of the delta blues singers?
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Robert Johnson took all of the pains and sufferings of these times and reflected them in his immortal music. Wonderfully simple, Johnson omitted intricate details from his playing- leaving us with a stark glimpse at his naked emotions. Deeply personal and often confrontational, Robert Johnson’s played with only his low-budget model guitar- revealing his immense loneliness with eerie precision as he plucked away miserably at the instrument. (And he was fairly good with it, too. Upon first hearing these records, Keith Richards had mistakenly guessed that there were two guitarists playing.)
To describe Robert Johnson’s sound presents quite a challenge, however. His guitar playing is not rhythmic like Muddy Water’s, nor is it flashy like Otis Rush. Instead, Johnson coaxes out a hypnotic kind of swagger in his style, as if encompassing both a rhythm guitarist and a lead player simultaneously. His strength is not in complex melodic leads, but rather the
feel he has for his instrument. Many of Robert’s slide riffs are well within the reach of novice players- yet the way he handles them points to a hidden complexity Johnson possessed. After all, there
is a reason why Eric Clapton (infamous for inspiring “Clapton is God” graffiti around Britain) calls Robert Johnson
”the most important blues musician who ever lived."
It is completely clear, however, why Johnson’s
singing is classic. Unlike any of the talented frontmen who tried to emulate him in the 1960’s, Robert Johnson had a voice that can only be accurately described with one word:
pure. When you get right down to it, Johnson led the quintessential bluesman life- and all of that depression, loneliness, and despair is manifest in his recordings. With a “high-lonesome” howl that would come to define the entire genre of county-blues, Johnson would force out high, yodel-like croons about sorrow like nobody else could. Gritty, raw, and powerful- Robert Johnson’s world-weary voice was
made for the blues, and rightly do justice to his dark lyrics.
Occasionally he would groan so passionately you’d think life itself had grabbed Robert by the throat- but the true highlights of his music occur when he takes the listener by surprise and speaks to you through your speakers. It is here, when he talks to you from 60 years ago, that you get the sense that there was something more complex lying behind the music- something secret about him. Though his strained voice, you can
tell that there’s a secret Johnson’s keeping from us.
These eternal secrets, however, are known to only Robert himself- and the Devil?
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Released in 1961,
King of the Delta Blues Singers is
the record that fired up the imaginations of Clapton, Page, and Richards- and perhaps can be pointed to as the culprit for igniting the British rock explosion of the mid-sixties. True, this album doesn’t include the entire body of Robert’s blues work, (all 29 of his known songs can be found on more inclusive compilations, such as the double-disc set, ?Complete Recordings?)- but if you want to experience the same chilling excitement and wonder that seized your favorite guitar-wielding rock-gods when they were mere teens, then you need to obtain King of The Delta Blues Singers. (If you’re a completionist, the follow-up disc “Vol. 2” will give you Robert’s entire catalogue).
Now, even though I made Johnson out to be the greatest bluesman of all time, he is not without flaw. First-time listeners will be, to say the least, disgruntled by the lack of sound quality to these recordings. To boot, one has to get over the fact that Johnson often slips in and out of time- making it nearly impossible to “groove” with the first few listens. And, as with (honestly) any blues music, there is a danger of repetition. It can take months before an average listener can discern the subtle differences in most of these songs. But, with that being said,
this album is a mandatory acquisition for anyone who likes good music. It really is that powerful.
Why? Quite simply, that’s just how Robert Johnson rolls.
Standin? at the crossroads-
I tired to flag a ride?
Aint? nobody seem to know me-
Everybody jus? pass me by?
