I’ve got to keep moving … I’ve got to keep moving…
Blues fallin’ down like hail … blues fallin’ down like hail
Blues fallin’ down like hail…and the days keep reminding me
There’s a hellhound on my trail…

Robert Johnson – 1936


One of the things that I have noticed during my relatively short time here at GT is how many blues fans there are surfacing every day. So I thought I would share a few of the things that I have learned about it from my almost life long love affair with the blues. This is not a scholarly work by any means but more or less just a pastiche of tid-bits from my own research and reading.

First, we have to define the blues. Not so much in a 12 bar, I-IV-V chord progression way but what do the blues really entail. To find that answer, we have to look back to the early days, to the birth as it were, of the blues. A lot of folks will claim that Robert Johnson was the father of the blues. When Johnson recorded his sides in a small hotel room in San Antonio, Texas in November 1936, the blues had been around and a very popular form of music in the rural southern United States for well over twenty years. Okay, fine, but where did the blues originate? That’s a chicken and the egg question that has been argued and continues to be argued by blues fans, scholars and ethnomusicologists for the past seventy-five years.

And they still don’t know.

But most agree that if they had to pick one, the one originator of the blues, they point to man by the name of Charlie Patton. Don’t be surprised if you don’t recognize the name. Most people don’t. Charlie Patton (1891-1934) was the son of a God fearing tenant farmer in Southern Mississippi named Bill Patton who moved him family to the Delta when Charlie was in his early teens. They took up residence at the Dockerty Plantation. By this time Charlie had been playing around on the guitar for a few years and much to the dismay of his father (ignoring his stern warnings and dodging the increasingly vicious corporal punishment), Charlie would sneak away at night and play gigs with a family of entertainers known as the Chatmons in and around the Delta. Most experts agree that this was where Charlie began to hone his craft.

By the time he left home, Charlie had already subscribed to what has become an almost legendary wanderlust style of the early Delta bluesman. Never rooted, Charlie wandered constantly, setting up homes with a variety of women, only to steal off in the middle of the night to re-appear miles away to play the occasional gig at a barn dance, in a juke joint or on a street corner. He was extremely popular across the southern United States and traveled almost constantly.

Although some argue that Charlie learned his stinging slide style from others in the area including Henry Sloan who was one of his earliest instructors, his was one of the very first recorded. His lyric style was personal, often times interjecting his own personal experiences into the songs. ‘Tom Rushen Blues’ about a run in with a sheriff seemed to be a page right out of the book of Patton. “High Water Every Where Blues’ which was practically a narrative of the Great Mississippi Flood of 1927 (one of the largest natural disasters on record, flooding 27,000 square miles and causing the displacement of nearly 700,000 people. ‘Pony Blues’ and ‘Pea Vine Blues’ are still performed by many contemporary blues guitarists.

Charlie recorded 14 tracks for Paramount in 1929 and twenty-six tracks for ARC in New York in 1934 (interestingly, only a short year after having his throat slit in a juke joint in 1933 near Holly Ridge). He died of heart failure in 1934 but his influence was profound. He inspired, and in many cases taught, Howlin’ Wolf, John Lee Hooker and Robert Johnson. He was also a precursor to Jimi Hendrix in his stage antics often times playing the guitar between his legs, behind his neck, on his knees and picking with his teeth. There is even one story of Charlie doing a complete flip off the stage while playing the guitar and never loosing the beat. Bear in mind, this was in the 1920’s and 30’s. Imagine what the audiences at that time must have thought?

So the next time you throw that Strat behind your neck and throw down a lick, remember Charlie.