I live in Dallas, Texas about two blocks from a bar. It just
so happens that this is a BLUES BAR near the end of a street replete with
music joints and restaurants and bars. It opens at 3:00 pm and closes at
2:00 am. No food, no popcorn, no beer nuts!! Just beer, more beer, wine,
and liquor....lots of liquor and LIVE MUSIC, mostly BLUES, with two bands
a night on many nights. ************************************************
**
A love for the blues, and curiosity, compelled me to visit this Blues
bar where the mostly Caucasian patrons are treated to gut-level and wonderfully
vulgar blues songs, songs about death and love, songs with open solicitations
for sex, and songs about the utter brilliance of quick, hot, and hard passion
(and occasionally it's consequences), all being told by a narrator who
is in major despair and is depressed out of his mind, i.e., has the blues.
************************************************ *****
That first night, when the slender young white guitar player stood at
the mike, peeked around his girlish locks like veronica lake, and said:
"We're gonna play the Blues for ya. Has anyone here ever had the blues?
Then you know what i'm talking about!!!".
Well, the crowd started applauding even before the music started!!And
when the band launched into the first tune, the audience seemingly felt
themselves (and their own blues and their own sexuality) existentially
relevant and justified - They howled and applauded like hell at the end
of "Hootchie Cootchie Man", (mostly the females at the front tables, who
loved the idea of the blues-man having a "Mojo" and a "Hootchie Cootchie
Man", "). duke romilar (a.k.a. larry miller)