John Campbell
A Man and His Blues

Devils and Friends - Devil Friends and the Demons of Blues.

And from that moment we were four, John had joined us

Me, Jimmy, Luca and John indeed.

Luca is one of my two blood brothers, the one I sometimes wonder where the hell he is and how he's doing, a film-like character, with the right face and a life to tell. Almost toothless by now for decades, he has used every possible drug, alcohol always as a traveling companion, his mocking smile, his cunning face (very cunning), lean and tough like the Iguana (but where the hell do they put all that alcohol?!).

He has worked very little and often lived without a fixed abode. A life choice, no victimhood like many useless losers do, and most of all, a lot, but a lot of dignity. Among us, when we went out together, there was always a pact: he could only smoke and drink, no other shitty drugs - any smoke was his business, I took care of the rest, obviously.

We had a lot of fun, albeit rarely; it took me three days to recover. He has been challenged by noble death many times and has always, incredibly and damnably, won. I always told him that, as for him, Keith Richards “doesn't hold a candle.” Richards didn't start at 12, he didn't live on the street, but in hotels or houses with all comforts and even the whole entourage is not even comparable. Luca - Keith 4 to 1!

Jimmy is Jimmy (Page obviously). He should have sold his soul and, for that, lived everything that was in that way. He should have convinced Percy and Bonzo too, while Jonesy wouldn’t have sold it to stay in his quiet obscurity (compared to the others). I am me, the Count.

When one day the Rif - my other blood brother as well as a Master in musical matters - tells me “But do you know John Campbell?! Blues and Led Zeppelin, you definitely have to know him. Check out this version of When The Levee Breaks!”

The two Lps “One Believer” and “Howlin Mercy” and it was done: John was the fourth Devil.

A Man and his Guitar

Beautiful stories those of blues, there's everything inside although the dramatic part always prevails. The Blues is suffering, pain, passion, soul, sex.

From then on, John became my absolute best magnificent loser!

“I was so battered after the accident and the plastic surgeries that I looked like a mummy. I couldn't walk for quite some time, so I started listening to music... John Lee Hooker, Howlin’ Wolf, Muddy Waters, and playing their records. Through that music, I began to feel something I had never felt before. I couldn't talk because of the stitches on my face, so I became very introspective and realized that music was my salvation and that I would play for the rest of my life” ... he said many years later.

As a kid his passions were the guitar and Drag Car races; in one of these he had this dramatic accident. Thousands of stitches on his face, a collapsed lung, a damaged kidney, as well as the loss of an eye and various fractures.

It starts in perfect Blues atmosphere, you don’t die, but you suffer damnably.

After a long convalescence the fourth devil, at seventeen, dropped everything and left with just his guitar, no money, as a wandering musician. He played everywhere around Texas first with a trio, then alone, for few dollars in the shadiest venues among outcasts, bikers, drunks, truckers, in pool halls, gas stations, street corners.

He even sold his blood to change the strings of his beloved guitar.

A Man and his Guitar.

Every time he takes the stage he carries his physical pains with him, with which he has to live daily, the memory of the tragic accident, of that narrowly avoided death, of his choice to live playing the blues, of not being in harmony with others in this damned world.

His music, the Blues, as the only reason for living, the only way to communicate and, in his own way, feel happy.

He gained a decent reputation, especially in the southern State, even entered a recording studio for a first album in '75, but everything evaporated immediately, no success (the album - Street Suite - is often not even mentioned in the official discography). Another studio experience in '79, where he recorded an acoustic demo with 12 tracks, was completely forgotten and ignored until after his death (a CD will be released in 2000 with these recordings “Tyler, Texas Session”).

But with the blues demons there is no story; if they are inside you, you will have them forever, they never leave you for better or for worse.

The sacrifices bear fruit.

Around the mid-eighties, he moved to friends in New York where there was a very respectable new blues scene. He plays in various clubs, makes himself known in the environment, until guitarist - of course, Blues - Ronnie Earl, has him record an album.

Little more than a self-production, only two days of work, practically recorded live. Nine tracks between covers of historic pieces and his own. Amazing, genuine, and fresh, simple and intense at the same time. How the hell does this man play guitar?! And the voice?! Fabulous.

However, the promotion of the album is practically non-existent and everything quickly slips away into nothingness.

He also had to sell his beloved “National,” which belonged to the great Lightning Hopkins to eat.

The disappointment is huge, he ends up working in a guitar shop as a regular salesman.

Lost, destroyed, the worst period of his life... because, without his music, he cannot live.

A Man and his Guitar

Then in those blues life situations you can't explain... he “finds” his guitar again, starts playing with others in a Vietnamese restaurant. (yes, Vietnamese!) The word spreads, people come to hear that amazing blues guitarist, he gets signed by the historic Elektra, records two albums “One Believer” and “Howlin Mercy,” plays with many greats and in places that matter.

He is very happy, he is playing his music, touring America and Europe, now he is even popular in the environment.

But John is the fourth devil and this is a true Blues story.

Above all, he is my absolute best magnificent loser.

During a European tour, on the night of June 13, 1993, he had a heart attack and died. The wounds of the body never healed?! The demons?! After the concert, he wasn’t feeling well.... I can think that he felt his Blues approaching and went to dream it, forever.

But this is the end while here we are at the aperitif with the first album, where there are Him and his guitar. Only friend Ronnie Earl in some songs as second guitar and, to memory, drum bass and harmonica in the - fabulous - track “Judgment Day.”

A blues record cannot be explained or told, it has to be listened to and lived with all the soul you possess.

However “Going To Dallas” and “Bad Night Blues”, the first two, explain everything... then you certainly won't stop, nine shots one after the other, almost without breathing. Forget the “modern” blues of the great Stevie Ray or Clapton’s clean one. Who does he remind of?! The only one that comes to mind is him, Robert Johnson, fifty years later.

A Man and his Blues.

I met Luca a short time ago after three years. Because he is always on the street, I am more and more about my business. If he calls, I drop everything and run, he knows. We had only spoken for our birthdays, so close to each other that one phone call for both was enough.

On a “strange” street, I having breakfast and him coming back from God knows what night towards God knows what home.

It took just a look, no words, an intense and long hug... then “lightening up the mood,” as we were parting, a “Always forza Inter, Brother” said in unison. Stories of Blues.

Enjoy listening.

Bye Luca, Rest John.