Although there exist neither recordings of his work nor photos of his visage, this haunter of graveyards would turn a town's musical laughingstock into a virtuoso, seemingly overnight.
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No, it wasn't Old Scratch who taught Robert Johnson how to play, circumstantial evidence aside. He almost always gets the credit, though. Such is the mythos surrounding Robert Johnson.
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Without this fellow there'd have only been Robert Johnson, harmonica player.
I'll be declaring my victory tonight, and will be the Queen of All Southern Musical Knowledge.
***
Congrats to Mel for correctly guessing Ike Zinneman.
Everytime the young harmonica-playing Johnson tried to sit in on guitar with the likes of Son House, Willie Brown, and Charley Patton, they'd laugh him out of the place, saying he just didn't have it. Said Son House:"We'd all play for the Saturday night balls, and there'd be this little boy hanging around. That was Robert Johnson. He blew a harmonica then, and he was pretty good at that, but he wanted to play a guitar. He'd sit at our feet and play during the breaks and such another racket you'd never heard. It'd make the people mad, you know. They'd come out and say, 'Why don't y'all go in and get that guitar away from that boy! He's running people crazy with it!' I'd come back in, and I'd scold him about it, ' Don't do that Robert. You drive the people nuts. You can't play nothing. Why don't you play that harmonica for'em.' But he didn't want to blow that. Still, he didn't care how I'd get after him about it. He'd do it anyway."
Johnson left Robinsonville, Mississippi, for Hazelhurst, and when he returned, he played for them again:
"When he finished all our mouths were standing open. I said, 'Well, ain't that fast! He's gone now!'"
That's when talk of a pact with the Devil began. In actuality, in between he'd found a very good, if strange, teacher: Ike Zinneman. Zinneman liked to sit in the graveyard and play, and Johnson spent every moment he could studying with him and practicing what he'd learned. Zinneman was never recorded and is a reminder of what Duane Allman said about while he's famous for his guitar playing, there are guys sitting out on their front porches who are better, and will never be known.
Of course, what Robert Johnson added to those hot licks were the lyrics to his songs and the voice he sung them with.
Interesting enough, it was guitarist Tommy Johnson who went around saying he'd sold his soul. If he did, he didn't get much out of the deal -- people only remember Robert for it: "If you want to learn how to make songs yourself, you take your guitar and your go to where the road crosses that way, where a crossroads is. Get there be sure to get there just a little ' fore 12 that night so you know you'll be there. You have your guitar and be playing a piece there by yourself…A big black man will walk up there and take your guitar and he'll tune it. And then he'll play a piece and hand it back to you. That's the way I learned to play anything I want."
I gotta keep movin'
Blues fallin' down like hail
And the days keeps on worryin' me
There's a hellhound on my trail.
Happy Halloween.
***
Previous postings:
Homefires VI
Homefires V
Homefires IV
Homefires III
Homefires II
Homefires
Hmmm...crossroads, graveyards, overnight sensation. Robert Johnson???
Posted by: Scott Chaffin at October 30, 2005 11:12 AMLook at the wording. There are pics and recordings of Robert Johnson...
Posted by: Donnah at October 30, 2005 11:17 AMYeah, my first thought, too, was Robert Johnson: crossroads...
However, there IS a gravemarker (now) for Johnson and I never thought he was from Florida, so, Johnson's perhaps not the one here. Will give it more thought.
Posted by: -S- at October 30, 2005 02:56 PMSorry, misread your comments, now I see the gravemarker wasn't the issue here, but recordings and photos...but those do exist of Johnson, too, so gotta' devote more time here to mystery.
Posted by: -S- at October 30, 2005 02:57 PMWhich I now ALSO see you know already...d'oh, will continue to ponder the crossroads issue.
Posted by: -S- at October 30, 2005 02:58 PMHomefires is never necessarily just people from Florida -- it's people from the South.
Diagram the sentence. Who's the subject? Y'all have the object figured out fine.
Posted by: Donnah at October 30, 2005 03:08 PMArgh, the haunter of graveyards would be...the dehvuile!
I seem to recall some story lately that I read about a blues harp player that everyone in his local town thought was "a fool, a simpleton" (mentally retarded) and yet when was discovered to be playing his harmonica, was determined to be a musical genius...just cannot recall his name although I don't know what he had to do with hauntings and such, if anything.
I'm thinking you're going for the Dark Man here.
Posted by: -S- at October 30, 2005 04:55 PMThe Boogie Man.
Posted by: -S- at October 30, 2005 04:56 PMJ.E.B. Stuart's banjo player, Samuel Sweeney?
Posted by: Salt Lick at October 31, 2005 09:14 AMSam Sweeney, wow. He would have been a great subject for Homefires.
Posted by: Donnah at October 31, 2005 12:16 PMWillie Brown??? There are no pictures, but he has two known recordings, so I know I'm wrong, but no one else comes to mind.
Posted by: YO at October 31, 2005 12:18 PMWillie Brown was one of the guys who used to laugh their asses off when Johnson would try to play a guitar.
Posted by: Donnah at October 31, 2005 12:22 PMMy guess is Ike Zinnerman.
Posted by: Mel at October 31, 2005 01:53 PMYea, Zinnerman or maybe even Esu. ;)
Posted by: Trambo at October 31, 2005 02:24 PMthere are guys sitting out on their front porches who are better, and will never be known.
Reminded me of "Curtis Lowe."
'Why don't y'all go in and get that guitar away from that boy! He's running people crazy with it!'
I used to play fiddle in local bluegrass and Old Time jams at bars in the thriving music scene in my area. Anyone was welcome to bring their instrument and join in. We had this old, retired professor in town who made the most God-awful racket on the fiddle you have ever heard. The sound was something like a 3 year old would make if he picked up a fiddle and played random notes. But the guy thought he could really play. One time he said he knew this tune I wanted to learn, and I asked him to teach it to me. It was unrecognizable the way he played it, and after some questioning he told me that he played "between the notes."
Funny thing was, he looked like a crusty, bearded old Appalachian mountain man, and he would sway and bounce really cool-like as he played. When there was a big jam, nobody could hear him, and the audience often assumed he was the expert, the best fiddler in the group.
You're a fiddler! That's awesome. I keep trying to get Mr. Cracker to switch over from violin, but he won't go for it. He records his playing, then accompanies himself on piano. One time I heard him accompanying himself, and the violin was so fabulous I had to go tell him. He had really improved. So I go tell him, "You've improved so much! I can't believe how great that violin sounds." He said, "It ought to sound good. It's Itzhak Perlman."
Posted by: Donnah at October 31, 2005 06:18 PMLOL.
Posted by: Salt Lick at October 31, 2005 07:21 PMGood one Donnah. The last couple have been head scatchers, fer sure.
Posted by: mike at October 31, 2005 08:28 PM