on from drunk debutants to the missip. backwoods. rocking shows in jackson ms 2 actually at martins lounge.. sunday night christmas party with one too car bombs.. and for the record never be a guinea pig for "hey many try this new shot!", this will leave you on the pavement. we made a journey out to the echo lounge in meridian, and these folks kick ass, we played with a local 60 yr old horn drum machine duo ebony and ivory.. everyone asked us "heeey maaan want to smoke a hooter." this place was great..on to sams lounge in jackson also a great joint.. the place is a love shack hotel with a great stage... we avoided the love tubs but dished out a heavy dose of rock n roll.. then on to the daves dark horse tavern starkville.. basically we showed up made sense out of a extrememly smoked pa system. played one song and packed our shit and got the fuck out of there.. due to regulations of time nazis and volume barons. lets just say we checked under our tires as we peeled out of the parking lot. now on to clarsksdale ms.. the mythical home of the crossroads.. we had an early gig at the bluesberry cafe.. after our show the owners took us to a hidden juke joint, where upon entry we saw t-model ford.. he was illuminated by the red neon, giving him a really devilish appearance.. he saw duncan and myself walk into the leaky roofed, cinnamon potpouri cented shack and said "hey get up here" pointing at me.. i approached him like i was in a fucking scary dream nightmare. and in his whiskey laiden breath says "hey, who is you?" blake, i responded, he said " do you know who i am?" allowing me no time for a response, "i is t-model ford motherfucker, i want you to play me a song." so this is a real the shit juke joint with pretty intense all black patrons drinking tall beers and jack daniels... im saying to my self, what the fuck? he handed me his peavy razor to test me and i grabbed it & played two songs on his t-model ford taildragger.. the lights flashed from blues review photographers hiding in the corners with their barealy apparent white faces and nice jackets.. as i finished i handed his "taildragger" rig back to him careful not to spill his whiskey.. which was the centerpiece for his droning mantra throught the night" thats fo godam sure , it jack daniels time!? he talked shit to the jolly plump middle age ladies while they booty danced infront of him... he demanded duncan get his drums. t-model and duncan jammed all night, t-model got so drunk duncan saved his ass and kept the women dancin.. we just had a devilish shit eating grin on our faces all night.im not really sure whether we played the devils guitar/rhythm and handed it back to him, but there was something in his grin and sparkkle in his eyes. definately a night i will never forget.
at the end of the night he stood up with his cane, surrounded by heaps of beer cans and numerous jack bottles, like shratnel from his middle age admirers. the roof was almost caving in where he stood and he told us stories of his life.. pretty crazy shit..
he was born in 1924, 27 children "mamma baby, papa maybe" cant read or write, traveled the whole world, didnt start playing music till he was 58, on a guitar "his fifth wife bought him.". he was escorted out by a young white guy who probabally worked for his label or something. got into a shitty 80's conversion van and rolled away.. we woke in a walmarts parking lot toxford surrounded by rats going in for the kill on the christmas season... tonight sushi and fuck you blues... look out tennessee were comin.