>> ^Fletch:

Good music is so hard to get sifted anymore.


ambitious *begging

Interesting to note: Alan "Blind Owl" Wilson, who is singing here, couldn't see anything 2 feet in front of him while performing, as he wasn't wearing his glasses. Might be why he has that kind of dazed, glazed over look going on. He was an interesting individual; a blues scholar and musicologist, he often slept outside to be closer nature, and in 1964 did a lot of work to reintroduce the iconic bluesman, Eddie "Son" House, back onto the scene - teaching him his own songs, which he had recorded 30-40 years earlier, again. He was yet another amazing young musician who left the world too early, at age 27, of a drug overdose.

Tags for this video have been changed from 'eddie, james, son, house, levee, camp, delta, blues' to 'eddie james, son house, levee, camp, delta, blues' - edited by EndAll

Nobody knowns much of anything about Robert Johnson, just that he wrote all these tragic and melancholy songs in the poetic and powerful words of Christian mythology.

The narrator sounds like he say's "DUUUDE!" a lot.

The Son House recording is great... "he'd get the guitar and be tryin to play it and just be noisen' the people".

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Johnson
The most widely known legend surrounding Robert Johnson says that he sold his soul to the Devil at the crossroads of U.S. Highway 61 and U.S. Highway 49 in Clarksdale, Mississippi in exchange for prowess in playing the guitar. Actually, the location Johnson made reference to is a short distance away from that intersection. The legend was told mainly by Son House, but finds no corroboration in any of Johnson's work, despite titles like "Me and the Devil Blues" and "Hellhound on My Trail". With this said, the song "Cross Road Blues" is both widely and loosely interpreted by many as a descriptive encounter of Johnson selling his soul. The older Tommy Johnson (no relation, although it is speculated that they were cousins), by contrast, also claimed to have sold his soul to the Devil. The story goes that if one would go to the crossroads a little before midnight and begin to play the guitar, a large black man would come up to the aspiring guitarist, retune his guitar and then hand it back. At this point (so the legend goes) the guitarist had sold his soul to become a virtuoso (A similar legend even surrounded virtuoso violinist Niccolò Paganini a century before.)