White Boy...Singin' the Blues?!

Acoustic blues was the first music I heard that resonated in me. Until I went to college, my musical palette included a few Simon and Garfunkle and Peter Paul and Mary albums from my parent’s collection, some John Denver, and an eclectic collection of Eagles, Boston, Beatles, and Peter Frampton. None of this music mattered to me, it was just the musical wallpaper of growing up in suburbia in the 1970s. My first year of college a friend put on an album by Taj Mahal called "Oh So Good and Blue. This album single-handedly changed the course of my life.

As a performer, my approach to blues is that it is a vehicle for self-expression. I cover traditional songs and most of what I write sounds like and is heavily influenced by this material. I firmly believe that this is well within the tradition. To cite a recognizable figure, Robert Johnson pillaged more artists’ repertoire than anyone. However, even when he "stole" lyrics (i.e. "32-20," which is more or less Skip James’ "22-20"), or guitar parts (i.e. "Malted Milk," which is quite close to Lonnie Johnson’s "Life Saver Blues"), it still sound like Robert Johnson, not Robert Johnson copying someone else.

Although I cover traditional artists, I generally don’t play slavish imitations. I absorb what I can of the guitar style and lyrics, then add and delete to serve my own creative ends (or evil purposes depending on your perspective). I’m always sure to credit the original source, but I feel I’m making a personal musical statement.

The black experience that blues developed from is accessible only through second and third party sources at this point. Whether you are white, black or anything else, this is a fact. I’m not saying that racism and racial oppression doesn’t still exist, but let’s be honest; even in the south the social/political/economic system is more fair then it was in 1900.

Being black is no more a passport to blues music than being Italian or German is a passport to opera. I’ve been lucky to be able to hang out with folks like Honeyboy Edwards, Big Smokey Smothers, Johnny Shines, John Jackson, Big Boy Henry, and many others. They all said I could play and gave me nothing but encouragement. I’ve played for black audiences and have been as well received as any black artist. Perhaps they were being polite, but I don’t think so. I’ve heard these same artists and audiences let folks know when they weren’t cutting it.

I approach the music with sensitivity and respect for the conditions from which it arose and the artists who created it. I make no apologies for the color of my skin and let audiences and critics alike form their own opinions. Critics and academics playing the race card have their own self-serving agenda and not the music’s interests at heart.

Here’s another way to look at it. What if some critic or academic said black performers couldn’t authentically sing or play opera or classical music, because they don’t come from that experience? You can be damn sure some people would get there panties in a wad and justifiably so. Culture, of which music is just one expression, is a learned expression, not a genetic or racial one. Anyone who puts the time and effort, and most importantly, the love and respect toward understanding the musical expression and the culture and community that created it, has a right to enjoy it and play or sing it.