Thanks to Mississippi Records, there’s been a renewed interest in George Washington Phillips. And while that imprint’s retrospective on the singer is surely depleted to the point where Ebay might be the only place to cop What Are They Doing in Heaven Today?, a few other collections exist in greater numbers. None carry such a cover as the Mississippi disc, but Yazoo released Key to the Kingdom isn’t too shabby. The one oddity – apart from Phillips himself – is the fact that tacked on to the end of this performer’s sixteen tracks are four stray shots of blues from Mamie and A.C. Forehand.

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The infighting that goes on between two sides of the same person can create a tremendous strain. A rationalization of one’s occupation to the beliefs that an individual possesses doesn’t always turn out right. It’s an endless back and forth. And only occasionally is the outcome realized in any sort of responsible time frame. Bishop Perry Tillis had a bought with all of this – I guess he won. Kinda. But as blues players made their way to all points north, a great many of ‘em called Chicago home. So did Tillis, for a time. That internal dialogue, though, eventually persuaded the guitarist and singer to make his way back to Alabama.

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Growing up with his brother, Barbecue Bob (bka Robert Hicks) got into music to pas the time, but eventually ran into Savannah "Dip" Weaver and her son from whom they learned guitar. It’s not an inauspicious beginning, but it’s also not too dissimilar from a vast many other stories floating around about blues players. After obtaining a decent songbook from playing around other folks, Barbecue Bob eventually pursued work in an Atlanta suburb where he was a chef – you guessed it – at a BBQ joint. It wasn’t the beginning or the end of Bob’s day jobs, but it would eventually serve as a good way by which to market the performer.

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The number of blind blues players can pretty easily be figured for a few reasons. Black folks at or around the turn of the century had little choice in vocation. But even those few slim positions were cut down when one also had the additional burden of blindness, thus making music a good way to turn a dollar. But beyond that, songs, traditional or otherwise, were able to carry a message. And considering the strong bond in black communities between the church and its people, singing songs of praise became a respectable way by which to earn a living. Although most street preachers struggled with the dichotomy of religiosity and daily life, this inner tumult didn’t really slow anyone down.

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Performers are necessitated to find a shtick that separates them from the field. Some choose to adapt some public persona that, while detached from reality, eventually becomes reality in more than just a few ways. Early on in the development of the blues, performers were given over to concocting stories as to how they attained a musical acumen unmatched by others. Most frequently, it seems to have come as a result of making a deal with the devil. Peetie Wheatstraw is generally considered one of the first bluesmen to make use of the tale, but if he wasn’t, Tommy Johnson might be a good candidate for that tag.

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Jack Rose and a live rendition of "Kensington Blues." I dunno how it seems effortless, but it kinda does.

If you’re a musician and you learn a song, making it your own over time, the work eventually becomes something wholly different than what it began as. I won’t pretend to be any where near the (whatever) league that Jack Rose is in, but the guitarist has been known to rework a single melody countless times, live and on record. Considering his solo work is all instrumental, it’d probably be kinda difficult to notice. But regardless of that, there’s no fault in working in that mode – after all how many old tyme blues players re-recorded their entire catalogs after being re-discovered during the ‘60s?

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The back story to so many blues players seems similar. Most spent time ramblin’ around and hitchin’ rides on trains, wondering from town to city and back again. There’s rarely a good way by which to track any of these folks – and a great many of them eventually just disappeared. There’s always speculation and surely any major name in American music has been investigated, family members sought out, et cetera. This can all be applied to Henry Thomas. However, Thomas was roughly twenty years older than any other pre-World War II blues player – and due to his vintage he’s frequently referred to as things other than a bluesman. He was perhaps born as early as 1874.

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Being a part of and subsequently the manager of the Mississippi Sheiks afforded Bo Carter (nee Chatom) a certain amount of notoriety before he set out on his own as a singer. But before striking out on his own, Carter took part in some extensive touring and recording with his family’s band. As a solo act, Carter went on to record well over one hundred sides with a good clutch of them being collected and repacked by the ever astute folks at Yazoo Records. The first volume, titled with some bawdy line plucked from one of Carter’s lyrics might sound risqué even today.

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At a certain point after the blues got electrified, it really became difficult to differentiate between players. At some points that was only due to the fact that folks sported stylistic similarities, but at others there was some pretty clear borrowing going on. At least a bit of credit needs to be given to players in each camp here. And even if Little Joe Blue caught it on the jaw for baring some commonalities with B.B. King, there’s a good amount of work from the southern blues guitarist that’s unique enough to get him over – and it’s funk too.

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