September 1, 2005
Okay, so the first post is up. What now? I didn’t want to fall victim to the nothing-to-post post, as a friend suggested, nor did I want to wait a month before adding another. I took the first step by starting this blog, so I feel compelled to write everyday. There were a couple of ideas, but nothing really hit me, then Hurricane Katrina came to visit. While Los Angeles is far from her wrath, New Orleans (the city of my birth) is near and dear to my heart, and it has had quiet an impact on me. It is nothing I feel I want to write here (just a distraction). I played a benefit concert last night to help raise money for the victims (another distraction). All ample fodder to post, and yet it was not until today that unwelcome inspiration came a knockin’.
While I never intended this blog to be a blues obit site, I’m afraid it might end up being just that from time to time – as I tend to feel the loss of those I hold in high esteem deeply. However, that list is growing smaller each day. As it is today, with much sadness that I write R.L. Burnside, the granddaddy of the North Mississippi Hill Country blues scene died this morning in Memphis. While R.L. remained virtually unknown outside of Mississippi, until the early 1990’s, he along with the late Junior Kimbrough helped cultivate the juke joint sound named for the region. A sound that will be carried on by R.L.’s sons & grandsons, Junior’s sons, Kenny Brown, The North Mississippi All-Stars, Jon Spencer, and all the others now and yet to come on Fat Possum Records (off who’s website, I snagged this amazing pic of R.L.). I was watching the amazing blues documentary You See Me Laughin’ two nights ago (yes, instead of writing) thinking how I wanted to play harmonica with R.L. next summer when I hit Mississippi. I guess I’ll settle for playing with those who also miss him. Check out their web site (www.fatpossum.com), to learn more about R.L.’s music and the memorial fund set up for his widow, Alice Mae.
I know it may feel that everyone is hitting you up – Hurricane relief, memorial funds , etc. – but remember, each step that we take on this big ol’ rock, each breath, each smile we get from a loved one, is a gift. I am a firm believer that charity starts at home, so if you’re just getting by, keep on, but if you got a little extra keep those less fortunate in mind. Now I’ve got a date with a scotch, an R.L. cd, and a tear or two. Talk to you in a few. Peace.