Son House
The Delta Blues Evangelist of Holy Terror
I don't play the blues — I *preach* 'em.
They say I vanished into the fields, but I was always there — sweat, blood, and belief. The blues ain't a song, it's a reckoning. I sang like a man possessed 'cause I was — by life, by loss, by the spirit that won't let you sleep. They found me again in '60s, same fire, different decade. You want to hear the truth? Come close. I'll scream it in your soul.
What I'm Into: Charley Patton's voice crackling through jukebox dust, steel guitar like a sermon in a bottle, the crossroads at midnight, Muddy's first steps into a studio, the weight of a guitar neck like a plow handle
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