Oh Papa; Recovering Bluesman, Part 5

For myself, I waved the “I’m a bluesman” flag briefly. It seems that once I was able to proclaim myself a bluesman I got over it, just as admitting a bad habit often leads to recovery. I began to explore other interests. Just when I had acquired enough skill and critical recognition to claim the title I had so long been too intimidated to say aloud, I began to dabble in old time and mountain guitar styles. The optimism and flair of gypsy jazz, the cleverness of Tin Pan Alley standards and the swagger of honky tonk began to call me and find its way into my broadening repertoire. There are those that will argue my “right” to perform these styles as well. For most musicians, labels mean little. We are drawn to new challenges by the thrill of acquiring new tools for self-expression. Most of the old bluesmen didn’t label themselves anything other than musicians and most played music of all types. Like them, my only ambition is to avoid “real work” and live a creative life. The cranking of critics and academics means less than nothing next to the need for artistic gratification. Ultimately the “market” (audience), decides what is “good” or “bad” and they are often as wrong as the reviewers and pundits.

A player plays; the rest is out of our control. Blues will always be a primary source of inspiration to me. But like all the originators of the form, it is not my only source. Ultimately, the only critic or authority I answer to is myself and I am harder to please than any audience or authority.