When I was about 17, I bought a cheap electric guitar and a small amp, and began trying to emulate the music I listened to. I wanted to play loud rock and since it was my angry-young-man phase (which, now that I think about it, lasted far longer than it probably should have), playing guitar loudly was part of the persona, I thought.

I met a jazz guitarist who told me that if I wanted to play most rock songs, I’d have to start with the blues. I really wasn’t interested in what sounded like scratchy recordings and simple, repetitive lyrics but over to Tower Records in Greenwich Village I went, searching for some blues records and an education.

I didn’t really know many blues artists by name, but I did, however, recognize some songs by people like Muddy Waters, Elmore James and Robert Johnson who, for me, was particularly intriguing since there was this mysterious legend surrounding his life and death. Read the rest of this entry »