The increase in cottage labels and the release of some pretty rare and moreover unknown Americana, ranging from blues to gospel and country, points to the fact that there are people who still value the tangible product in lieu of a quick digital fix. Of course, Mississippi Records isn’t the most well known label in the world – and it won’t ever gain that notoriety. But the trio of record aficionados, Alex Yusimov, Eric Isaacson and Warren Hill, that have a hand in the running of the label maintain an attitude that notoriety, money and progress really isn’t what the imprint is all about.

“The overriding philosophy of the label would be that we want to make old music available on vinyl for an affordable price - everything's less than 10 bucks,” figures Hill in an interview from hour. Instead, the music for its own sake is what drives all involved.

Most well known from the label is its seemingly endless stream of compilations. These assembled tracks take different forms – some on tape and some on vinyl, but no cds. None are strictly focused upon a specific genre, but they don’t need to be. A seamless flow holds each one of these discs together. The care with which each is cobbled together gives the discs a cohesive quality not found on some efforts from a single artists. These releases, though, are no Anthology of American Folk Music, but maybe a 21^st century update of the folk cornerstone. The names here aren’t gonna be familiar to too many folks as a great majority of the compilations’ content are culled from some rare 78s that the label honchos have tracked down. But assuredly, even if you’re not familiar with these folks, it’s pretty likely that you’ll enjoy ‘em.

Death Might Be Your Santa Claus

Out of the discs that I’ve familiarized myself with, Death Might Be Your Santa Claus is easily the most sprawling. And over just the first few cuts, listeners catch a blues howler in the form of Big Maybelle, some jaunty pop-jazz from Hoagy Carmicheal and south of the boarder guitar music from Canalejus. It might be one of the most all encompassing efforts from Mississippi Records, but it’s no less enjoyable for the fact.

I Woke Up One Morning In May

The 33^rd release from the label finds this disc, to a certain extent, reprising the Last Kind Words album. Beginning with Crying Sam Collins and moving through a rag by Willie Baker, I Woke Up One Morning in May distills some pre-war blues from the years 1927 to 1934. The music is remarkable, for the most part, but also the fact that these tracks were collected from some singles makes the album an even more entertaining a piece of history

Oh Graveyard, You Can't Hold Me Always

Gospel and spirituals have been dispensed on other discs, but here on Oh Graveyard, You Can't Hold Me Always, the church takes over to stunning effect. There’s everything from a shuffling request for eternal life to some pretty heavy philosophical questions. But it’s all wrapped up in the apt cover art and a final, anonymous rendition of “We Shall Overcome.”