Legends of
CountryBluesGuitarVolume Two
featuringLead BellySon House
Bukka WhiteSam Chatmon
Rev. Gary DavisBig Joe Williams
Houston Stackhouse
Legends of
CountryBluesGuitarVolume Two
featuringLead BellySon House
Bukka WhiteSam Chatmon
Rev. Gary DavisBig Joe Williams
Houston Stackhouse
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Legends ofCountry Blues Guitar
Volume Twoby Mark Humphrey
Thir ty years have now come and gone since the‘rediscoveries’ of the blues revival startled us with their cor-poreal presence in lieu of spectral reflections etched in pre-War 78s and savored by a small coterie of collectors. In ret-rospect, it seems little short of miraculous that so many ofthe greatest pre-War bluesmen were found ready, willing,and able to recreate the passion of their youth’s music for amoving Last Hurrah.
Now they are, to a man, gone, making the window whichbriefly shown into their world all the more precious. Thatthese men were filmed in performance is fortuitous for ustoday; they need no longer be disembodied voices. The per-formance experience was captured and while the video re-flection is no more the essence of the artist than the scratchy78, it is far more than we once could have hoped for. Imag-ine how much more we might know if we had even onesong’s worth of videotape of Charley Patton or RobertJohnson!
We enter their world of Delta blues during the first halfof this video and experience that music little removed from
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its source. Bukka White and Big Joe Williams were disciplesof Charley Patton, Sam Chatmon claimed he was his half-brother, and Son House began his blues recording career atPatton’s behest. (House was also a formative inspiration forRobert Johnson and Muddy Waters.) The other seminal in-fluence on early Delta blues, Tommy Johnson, is reflected inperformances here by Houston Stackhouse and SamChatmon, once a member of the legendary Mississippi Sheiks.
Beyond the powerful blues of the Delta, ragtime was astill- popular pre-blues music throughout the Southeast inthe 1920s- 30s. Adapted from piano to guitar, ragtime flour-ished in Virginia and the Carolinas and had no greater expo-nent than Rev. Gary Davis. The previously unseen ‘homemovie’ footage of Davis shows here the ease with which hespanned ragtime, blues and sacred song.
Though both Texas and Louisiana claim him, HuddieLedbetter defies neat regional pigeonholing. Leadbelly wasa vast storehouse of blues and pre-blues African-Americantradition, a ‘songster’ whose repertoire ranged from pop tunesto ancient work songs to original topical ones. He was thesort of larger-than-life figure who played his robust myth tothe hilt and managed both to entertain and inspire with en-during vigor. Given that Leadbelly left us before any of theother figures on this video (and, in fact, before any ‘bluesrevival’ existed), we are indeed fortunate to have film foot-age offering some semblance of his power as a performer.
Today we know more of these artists and their milieuthan we did at the dawn of the ‘rediscovery’ era thirty-someyears ago. The term, ‘country blues,’ had only recently beencoined by Samuel Charters for his influential 1959 book ofthe same name. Outside a small group of 78 collectors, fewof us had heard the music the term described, as Lp reissuesand ‘rediscovery’ recordings were only just beginning. Like-wise, the person-to-person meeting of the ‘folk boom’ audi-ence with pre-War bluesmen at such key venues as the New-port Folk Festival was in its infancy. Had anyone suggestedwhen the King of the Delta Blues Singers Lp appeared in1961 that Robert Johnson would make the Billboard popcharts thirty years later, he would understandably have beendeemed crazed. But Johnson has enjoyed posthumous popstardom in the ’90s, and the pre-War blues reissue albumswhich were once nearly as rare as the original 78s now pro-liferate on compact disc.
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The country blues fan of today may little appreciate whatan ‘underground’ phenomenon being a cognescenti of thismusic was a generation ago. There is so much more of itreadily accessible now, yet one crucial element—direct expe-rience of living performers—has become rarer with each pass-ing year. That’s why those of us who encountered these art-ists ‘in the flesh’ consider ourselves lucky. Seeing them againon video vividly reminds us of the excitement of experienc-ing this passionate, personal music ‘live.’ It reminds us, too,of the debt we owe those dedicated collectors who sleuthedout these men and encouraged them to share their long-neglected music with a new audience for an unforgettableFarewell Performance. Without both the discoverers and the‘rediscovered,’ our musical experience would be much im-poverished.
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Bukka White(1906-1977)
“I did a heap better with them guitar strings than I did with thatmule, so help me God.” - Bukka White, quoted in Beale Black &
Blue by Margaret McKee and Fred Chisenhall(Louisiana State University Press, Baton Rouge, 1981).
Booker T. Wash-ington White was arai l road man’s sonwho restlessly rode thefreights in his teensand incorporated theirrattling rhythms intohis songs. Mississippi-born, he gravitated toSt. Louis, then Chicago,and f inal ly sett leddown in Memphis .Bukka was first initiatedinto blues experienceby Charley Patton, whooffered him a spoonfulof whisky as inspira-tion. It took. (“I stillthink about it,” Bukkarecalled years later,“and wish I’d asked him to give me the spoon.”)
Bukka first recorded for Victor in 1930 and had a sizablehit in 1937 with his Vocalion label release Shake ‘Em OnDown. Before he could enjoy the celebrity it earned him,however, a Mississippi shooting fracas resulted in his impris-onment at Parchman Farm.
Folklorist John Lomax arrived there in 1939 to make fieldrecordings for the Library of Congress. Bukka was well-knownat Parchman as the camp entertainer, but recorded reluc-tantly for Lomax on grounds Leadbelly would have under-stood: “I didn’t do any more because I knew he wasn’t goingto give me any money,” Bukka told interviewer David Evans.“I didn’t want to cut them two, but I just said, ‘He done madethat long trip...Sometimes it’s better to give than to receive,’so I just gave him the records there for him to get out of myface.”
One of the recordings Bukka made to appease Lomax,Po’ Boy, stayed in his repertoire over subsequent decades,
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and is performed here lap style. A very different Po’ Boy LongWays from Home was a ‘Spanish’ tuning (open G, D-G-D-G-B-D) bottleneck standard. Bukka kept the tuning and the ap-proach but created an entirely new melody, suggesting hill-billy or hymnal influence, as well as an original set of lyrics.Bukka’s Po’ Boy became a favorite of John Fahey, who wouldrecord Bukka for his Takoma label in 1964. And Fahey’s per-formance of Po’ Boy inspired Leo Kottke to take up slideguitar: Po’ Boy was the first slide tune learned by Leo, whohas recently recorded it for the first time.
Bukka’s initial performance on this video is of a song hefirst recorded in 1940 and which led to his rediscovery twenty-three years later. “Booker had made a record called Aber-deen Mississippi Blues,” John Fahey recalled, “so I wrote aletter to ‘Booker White, Old Blues Singer, Aberdeen, Missis-sippi.” Bukka had long since moved to Memphis, but a rela-tive who was a postal worker in Aberdeen forwarded Fahey’sletter! It was through such lucky accidents that the‘rediscoveries’ occurred, and eventually elicited such perfor-mances as those on this video.
Sky Songs (Arhoolie CD 323)Complete Recordings (Columbia/Legacy CT 52782)
Sam Chatmon(1899-1983)
“The blues, well, that was just a lost calf, cryin’ for his mama.”- Sam Chatmon, quoted by Efrem M. Grail
in a Living Blues obituary.Longevity has its advantages. Sam Chatmon once
quipped of death, “God’s gonna have to draft me, ‘cause Iain’t gonna volunteer.” So when blues researchers went look-ing for the sons of farmer-fiddler Henderson Chatmon whohad recorded as the celebrated Mississippi Sheiks in the1930s, they found only the sole survivor, Sam Chatmon, liv-ing in Hollandale, Mississippi. As this video attests, Sam’sguitar prowess remained a formidable testament to his fam-ily tradition. Both blues and ragtime were rendered with acrisp sureness many younger players might well envy. Gui-tarists will admire the strength with which Sam snaps bassnotes, and may be surprised by his ‘neoclassical’ right handposition and technique. Sam grew up in an especially musical family in Bolton,Mississippi. African-American string-bands were not uncom-
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mon in the early years ofthe 20th century, and theChatmon brothers werethe best in their region.Fiddling brother Lonniewas the ostensible lead-er and the wide-rangingrepertoire of the groupmade them popular atboth white and blackdances. When recordingopportunities arose, theChatmon Brothers be-came the Mississ ippiSheiks and concentratedon blues, both bawdy(the stock-in-trade of BoChatmon, who recordedextensively as Bo Carter)and reflective, such astheir Tommy Johnson-in-fluenced hit, Stop and Listen Blues.
Both sides of the Sheiks’ music are evident in Sam’sperformances here. His younger days playing gambling jointsin Jackson, Mississippi may account for the strong TommyJohnson influence on the first two songs (Johnson’s stylewas preeminent among Jackson area bluesmen). Interest-ingly, That’s All Right is a reworking into an earlier style of a1950 Chess label hit by Muddy Waters sideman Jimmy Rogers.(Sam would likewise countrify Chick Willis’s ribald ’70s hit,Stoop Down Baby.) His final performance here is the sort ofgood-timey tune familiar from brother Bo’s repertoire, butSam and Lonnie recorded Stir It Now as the Chatman (sic)Brothers for Bluebird in 1936.
In his later days, ‘Mr. Sam,’ as he was known aroundHollandale, was honored as “The Elder Statesman of Blues.”Given his wry penchant for the risque, others affectionatelydubbed him ‘the dirty old man of the blues.’ At his passing,Jackson, Mississippi's Clarion-Ledger columnist Raad Cawthoneulogized: “I’ll miss someone who can go to the Governor’sMansion and sing Stoop Down Mama and Let Your DaddySee.”
Sam Chatmon and His Barbecue Boys (Flying Fish FF 202)Sam Chatmon’s Advice (Rounder 2018)
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Big Joe Williams(1903-1982)
“I wouldn’t stay no place no more than two nights for nothing.I kept moving. Never stop, just kept moving...It’s prison to
stay still and look at the same ground.” - Big Joe Williams, quotedin Beale Black & Blue by Margaret McKee and Fred Chisenhall
(Louisiana State University Press, Baton Rouge, 1981). Big Joe was the ar-chetypal wanderingblues singer, playing ev-erywhere from hobojungles to concert halls.No matter how far hisjourneys took him, Joealways gravitated backto the tiny east Missis-sippi hamlet of Craw-ford where he was bornand would die. He heldcourt for visitors therein his trailer (seen inthis video) on Craw-ford’s outskirts, spin-ning tales of ‘discover-ing’ Bob Dylan (a halftruth of sorts), beatingCharley Patton in a1933 blues ‘cutting con-test,’ and of performing
(via satellite) for the world on the occasion of America’s Bi-centennial (Walter Cronkite introduced him). “I’m a super-star,” Joe said glibly.
But he had once been Po’ Joe Williams, one of a legionof young men who were ‘on the wander’ during the Depres-sion. His travels took him through hobo jungles and leveecamps and Parchman Farm before landing him at a Bluebirdrecording session in 1935. Decades later, he was still per-forming songs from his initial session, including two in thisvideo, 49 Highway and the Depression-themed ProvidenceHelp the Poor People. Big Joe’s explosive snapped bass linesand jagged rhythms were a legacy of the man he claimed tohave once bettered, Charley Patton. During Patton’s era, thepiano-guitar recordings of Leroy Carr and Scrapper Blackwellwere tremendously popular. They were the first to record
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Sloppy Drunk Blues in 1930, though Joe may have learned itfrom his friend and sometime-recording partner, John Lee’Sonny Boy’ Williamson, who recorded it as Bring Me An-other Half a Pint. (The song was successfully revived in 1954under its original title by Jimmy Rogers on Chess.)
Big Joe’s complex primitivism was perfectly comple-mented by his unique instrument, a nine-string guitar. Heclaimed he added strings to befuddle an uncle who keptfooling with his instrument, though it has been speculatedJoe may have taken a cue from Lonnie Johnson, with whomhe once shared turf in St. Louis and whose experiments witha modified twelve-string are audible on his legendary duetswith Eddie Lang. Tony McPhee offered this description of Joe’sguitar in the notes to the 1969 album, “Hand Me Down MyWalking Stick” (World Pacific WPS-21897): “It is an incred-ibly dirty old Harmony Sovereign...held together in parts withvarious forms of sticky tape. The three extra pegs required tomake up the complement of nine strings are screwed to thetop of the head. He uses a De-armond pickup with volumecontrol and a connecting lead which is patched up with in-sulating tape in five places.” Big Joe prided himself on hav-ing created an instrument which baffled lesser mortals, someof whom tried his modifications on their own guitars. “I havelots of white musicians try it,” Joe recalled in Beale Black &Blue. “They can’t do anything with it. One of them said, ‘I putnine strings on there, but, hell, I had to take ‘em off.’ I say,‘What’d you take ‘em off for?’ He said, ‘Aw, that ninth stringwhat gets you.’”
Big Joe Williams Complete Recorded Works (Document)Nine String Guitar Blues (Delmark DD 627)
Throw a Boogie Woogie (RCA 9599-2-R)Shake Your Boogie (Arhoolie CD 315)
Houston Stackhouse(1910-1980)
“I just been thinkin’ about Tommy [Johnson] now. He’s beendead a long time, but if they make any records [reissues],
his voice is still here, still yodelin’ ‘round here. He ain’t herebut people can hear his voice if they take a notion. At that rate,
a fellow don’t die too fast, you know what I mean?”- Houston Stackhouse, interviewed by Jim O’Neal for Living Blues
Houston Stackhouse made few recordings and was nei-ther a pre-War ‘legend’ nor a sufficiently flamboyant performerto cause much stir during the blues revival. Yet he was a
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significant figure in Deltablues history for thepeople he learned fromand played with, includ-ing Tommy Johnson, theMississippi Sheiks, Rob-ert Johnson, and SonnyBoy Wil l iamson (RiceMiller), as well as theones he taught, notablyRobert Nighthawk andEarl Hooker. Born inWesson, Mississ ippi ,Houston was raised innearby Crystal Springs,where he met the musi-cal Johnson brothers, no-tably Tommy, who neverfailed to make an impression: “He’d kick the guitar, flip it,turn it back of his head and be playin’ it, then he get straddledover it like he was ridin’ a mule,” Houston recalled.
Johnson’s antics, alcoholism, and alleged pact with theDevil (according to his pious brother LeDell) are surely thestuff of blues legend. The riotous tales contrast sharply tothe classic beauty of Johnson’s recordings, especially the eightsongs he waxed for Victor in 1928. Cool Drink of Water Blueswas his first recording, and Houston’s performance is excep-tionally faithful to the original. (Other performers took greaterliberties: Howlin’ Wolf cut the song as I Asked for Water in1956 at the same session which produced SmokestackLightnin’, a song deeply imbued with Johnson’s spirit.)
Houston’s accompanist in this performance is his long-time associate Joe Willie Wilkins, with whom he worked inlater years in the New King Biscuit Boys. “Blues is like a reli-gion,” Wilkins once said. “You can’t explain it, because onceit gets you, it’s got you.” Houston recalled the unorthodoxmeans by which Robert Jr. Lockwood instilled the faith inWilkins: “They used to put him in the dog house,” he said.“Lock him up, tell him, ‘Now you ain’t gonna get nothin’ tillyou learn such-and-such.’”
Houston Stackhouse (Wolf 120 779)
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Son House (1902-1988)
“Blues is not a plaything, like people think they are.”- Son House, Camera Three, WCBS-TV, New York, 1968
The extraordinaryintensity of House’sperformances explainwhy he was idolizedby the likes of RobertJohnson and MuddyWaters. He was argu-ably the greatest ‘re-discovery’ of the bluesrevival, a peer of Char-ley Patton’s who wasthe living link betweenthe first generation ofrecorded Delta blues-men and the genera-tion which expandedand amplified the mu-sic after World War II.The Mississippi planta-tion-born House re-corded his legendaryPreachin’ the Blues for Paramount in 1930 and was ‘fieldrecorded’ by Alan Lomax for the Library Congress in 1941-42. The death of his long-time partner Willie Brown in 1952signalled the end of House’s music-making for more than adecade prior to his rediscovery in 1964, an event which wasas much a shock to House as he proved to be to his newaudience: “On the day (blues researcher) Dick Watermanbrought him to New York,” Stefan Grossman recalled in aGuitar Player interview, “Son was uptight, and he was play-ing a guitar he wasn’t comfortable with. He was looking fora National, but what these guys really wanted were old Stellas.The big-bodied Stellas were just not around, because theysort of disintegrate—they were cheaply made guitars. So Isaid to Son, ‘I have a National- -it’s yours, take it.’ I just gaveit to him as a present. Dick couldn’t believe what happenednext. Son took the guitar and started playing tunes that noone had ever heard him do. Then he went to a club and satdown to play. He slid a note down to start Levee Camp Moan
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and when his slide went up to the twelfth fret, his headwhipped back and his eyeballs went straight into his head;all you saw was white. A vein popped out from his forehead,and this voice started to sing ‘The Blues.’ I had heard a lot ofblues singers before, but I had never heard someone singthe blues. It was an incredible experience. Every time I heardSon it was like that, except when he was drinking so muchhe was on the floor. There is a lot of technique and a lot ofvery important guitar sound in what he does.”
Masters of the Delta Blues:The Friends of Charlie Patton (Yazoo 2002)
Delta Blues: The Original Library of Congress Sessionsfrom Field Recordings 1941-1942 (Biograph BCD 118)
Father of the Delta Blues: The Complete 1965 Sessions (Colum-bia 48867)
Rev. Gary Davis(1896-1972)
“The first time I ever heard a guitar played I thought it wasa brass band coming through. I was a small kid and I asked my
mother what it was and she said that was a guitar. I said,‘Ain’t you going to get me one of those when I get large enough?”
- Rev. Gary Davis, interviewed by Sam Charters in Rev. GaryDavis: Blues Guitar by Stefan Grossman (Oak Publications, 1974).
Blind Boy Fuller reportedly called Davis ‘Daddy’ in def-erence to his exceptional guitar skills. If the South Carolina-born Davis was the Daddy of the so-called Piedmont schoolof guitarists (he claimed Fuller knew only a simple ‘knifepiece’ before they met), he would later become Gran’daddy
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to a host of young white fingerpickers in the Sixties who, likeStefan Grossman, sought out Davis in the Bronx and paidhim $5.00 a guitar lesson. Davis had recorded fifteen songsfor the American Record Company as ‘Blind Gary’ in 1935,but it was only after years of street singing in New York City(he moved there from North Carolina in 1944) that Davis’stalents truly came to light as the ‘folk boom’ opened coffeehouses and recording studios to this proudly impious sing-ing clergyman. Peter, Paul & Mary’s success with Davis’s If IHad My Way (Samson and Delilah) further eased his needto sing on street corners.
This heretofore-unseen footage suggests something ofDavis the informal pedant, illustrating and improvising andvamping in a relaxed but authoritative manner on blues, rag-time, and sacred songs. Note that he puts his coat back onfor the church song, but nothing interfered with his enjoy-ment of a good cigar!
Blues & Ragtime (Shanachie 97024)Demons and Angels (Shanachie 6117)
Reverend Gary Davis (Yazoo 1023)Pure Religion and Bad Company (Folkways 40035)
The Reverend Gary Davis At Newport (Vanguard 73008)Gospel, Blues And Street Songs (Riverside OBCCD 524)Say No To The Devil (Prestige/Bluesville OBCCD 519)
Leadbelly(1888-1949)
“Lead Belly drives the Lomax carAnd he is never tired;
He’s a better man, John Lomax vows,Than any he ever hired.”
- from “Ballad of a Ballad-Singer” by William Rose Benet,The New Yorker, January 19, 1935
Huddie Ledbetter sang his way out of prison and intoAmerican folklore at a time when populist idealism was ahopeful hedge against the grim Depression. As ‘the people’were being variously idealized in the films of Frank Capra,the novels of John Steinbeck, and the symphonic ballets ofAaron Copland, Lead-belly appeared dramatically from theranks of ‘the people’ as a heroic black Everyman, singingsongs of joy and hardship which made tangible the dailyexperience of rural blacks to white urban audiences.
That his background included murder, imprisonment, andtravels with the likes of Blind Lemon Jefferson added to
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Leadbelly’s mystique.His was a saga seem-ingly made for themovies, and withinmonths of his releasefrom Angola PrisonLeadbelly was starringin a 1935 dramatiza-tion of his story forThe March of Timenewsreel. Leadbelly’swedding to MarthaPromise (and theirwedding party) wasre-enacted, and yieldsthe scenes here of himsing ing Goodnight ,Irene.
Leadbelly fully expected to find Hollywood stardom andwent looking for it in the 1940s. Though his roles never gotbeyond the development stage, Leadbelly did get filmed in1945 in Hollywood. Charles Wolfe and Kip Lornell explainhow the rare color footage in this video came to be in TheLife & Legend of Leadbelly (Harper Collins, New York, 1992):“Two West Coast filmmakers shot silent footage of Leadbellyperforming at least six selections in their backyard and livingroom. The footage languished for nearly two decades beforePete Seeger contacted one of the filmmakers who sent himthe material and wished him good luck with it. Seeger notesthat it was ‘pretty amateurish. I think that he recordedLeadbelly in a studio the day before, then he played the recordback while Leadbelly moved his hands and lips in synch withthe record. He’d taken a few seconds from one direction anda few seconds from another direction, which is the only rea-son I was able to edit it. I spent three weeks with a moviola,up in my barn snipping one frame off here and one frameoff there and juggling things around. I was able to synch upthree songs: Grey Goose, Take This Hammer and Pick a Baleof Cotton.”
King of the 12-String Guitar (Columbia CK 46776)Midnight Special (Rounder 1044)
Gwine Dig A Hole To Put The Devil In (Rounder 1945)Let It Shine On Me (Rounder 1046)
Alabama Bound (RCA 9600-2)
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RECORDING INFORMATIONBukka White, Sam Chatmon,
Big Joe Williams,Houston Stackhouse
& Son House: BBC 1972Rev. Gary Davis: University Of Washington
Ethnomusicology Archives 1966Leadbelly: Goodnight Irene 1935.
The Grey Goose, Pick A Bale Of Cotton& Take This Hammer 1945
Thirty-five years have now come and gone sincethe ‘rediscoveries’ of the blues revival startledus with their corporeal presence. It seems littleshort of miraculous that so many of the great-est pre-War bluesmen were found ready, will-ing, and able to recreate the passion of theiryouth’s music for a moving Last Hurrah.
Now they are, to a man, gone, making thewindow which briefly shown into their worldall the more precious. That these men werefilmed in performance is fortuitous for us to-day; they need no longer be disembodiedvoices. The performance experience was cap-tured and while the video reflection is no morethe essence of the artist than the scratchy 78, itis far more than we once could have hoped for.
We enter their world of Delta blues duringthe first half of this DVD and experience thatmusic little removed from its source. BukkaWhite and Big Joe Williams were disciples ofCharley Patton, Sam Chatmon claimed he washis half-brother, and Son House began his bluesrecording career at Patton’s behest. (House wasalso a formative inspiration for Robert Johnsonand Muddy Waters.) The other seminal influ-ence on early Delta blues, Tommy Johnson, isreflected in performances here by HoustonStackhouse and Sam Chatmon, once a mem-ber of the legendary Mississippi Sheiks.
Beyond the powerful blues of the Delta,ragtime was a still- popular pre-blues musicthroughout the Southeast in the 1920s- 30s.Adapted from piano to guitar, ragtime flourishedin Virginia and the Carolinas and had no greaterexponent than Rev. Gary Davis. The previouslyunseen ‘home movie’ footage of Davis showshere the ease with which he spanned ragtime,blues and sacred song.
Though both Texas and Louisiana claimhim, Huddie Ledbetter defies neat regional pi-geonholing. Leadbelly was a vast storehouse ofblues and pre-blues African-American tradition,a ‘songster’ whose repertoire ranged from poptunes to ancient work songs to original topicalones. He was the sort of larger-than-life figurewho played his robust myth to the hilt and man-aged both to entertain and inspire with endur-ing vigor. Given that Leadbelly left us before anyof the other figures on this video (and, in fact,before any ‘blues revival’ existed), we are in-deed fortunate to have film footage offeringsome semblance of his power as a performer.
BUKKA WHITE1. Aberdeen Mississippi Blues2. Poor Boy
SAM CHATMON3. Big Road Blues4. That's All Right5. Sam's Rag
BIG JOE WILLIAMS6. Sloppy Drunk Blues7. Highway 498. Providence Help
The Poor PeopleHOUSTON STACKHOUSE
9. Cool Drink Of WaterSON HOUSE
10. Yonder Comes The BluesREV. GARY DAVIS
11. Buck Dance12. Hard Walking Blues13. Make Believe Stunt14. Keep Your Lamp Trimmed
And BurningLEAD BELLY
15. Goodnight Irene (take 1)16. The Grey Goose17. Pick A Bale Of Cotton18. Take This Hammer19. Goodnight Irene (take 2)
Front Photo of Big Joe Williams by Burton WilsonBack Photo of Son House by Nick Perls
Running Time: 58 minutes • Color and B&WNationally distributed by Rounder Records,One Camp Street, Cambridge, MA 02140
Representation to Music Stores by Mel Bay Publications® 2001 Vestapol Productions
A division of Stefan Grossman's Guitar Workshop Inc.
Vestapol 13016
0 1 1 6 7 1 30169 3
ISBN: 1-57940-913-X
