Without Perfect Sound Forever, I really don't know what would be worth reading on the internets. As it is, a good deal of my day is consumed and than regurgitated through tiny fiber optics and cables running the length of the globe, but through reading a piece by W.C. Bamberger at PSF from earlier this year, the preceding decades ended up sounding better than ever to me. Now, that's not to figure I'll soon build a time machine or discontinue 'sampling' music online, but Bamberger's writing on Crying Sam Collins is a shining beacon amongst the dregs of three line summaries that constitutes the world. wide. web.

Crying Sam Collins isn't the biggest name in blues, but according to Bamberger, he was one of the earliest players to be recorded over more than just a few sides. And while that doesn't make Collins any more significant, it does give a frame to the songs that he gave us - which have subsequently been collected by Yazoo Records. The fidelity of these tracks, as would be expected, isn't of the highest caliber. But considering that they've been transferred from medium to medium over time, it kinda makes sense. Even those crackles don't detract from the musical precedings that are found here.

Jailhouse Blues collects the tracks recorded by Collins in 1927 while still residing in the south - although, apparently the studio was located in Richmond, Indian - and prior to his move to Chicago and his sessions in New York during the early '30s. While the singing and playing can be heard pretty well over that fuzz - comparable to most Mississippi John Hurt sessions from the time - it becomes clear that Collins isn't the most adept guitarist from the pre-war blues era. There's no hint of incompetence, and honestly most 'indie' bands today don't count folks with this acumen. When contrasted with his contemporaries, though, Collins just wasn't as gifted musically.

His style of guitar - which sounds oddly out of tune a good portion of the time, even if his voice is able to meet the challenge of this setting - moves between some subtly injected ragtime, blues and slide guitar. As in Bamberger's piece, it is worth mentioning that at times Collins scrapes his slide against the frets resulting in an undesirable, but not too problematic scrapping noise on occasion. But even if Collins wasn't able to wow folks with his playing, the lyrical ground that he covers is an all encompassing look at the genre.

There're mention of woman - obviously - but also live stock, death and troubled times. His "Dark Cloud Blues" works with a meteorological metaphor to relate his down trodden moments. He might wanna lay down and die, but it's under this foreboding sky that the sentiment becomes so artfully expressed. What Collins gives listeners in the way of traditional work here is bolstered not only by the early date at which it was revealed, but by his impassioned delivery. Even if he didn't howl like Charley Patton or play like Robert Johnson, Jailhouse Blues is a genuine expression of a real musician from an important time in America's musical history.