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Mr. Robert Johnson, refined artist who in twenty-nine musical paintings finely traces vivid shades, putting the signature to a comprehensive work that symbolically encapsulates his homeland, Mississippi: the dust of the roads, the rust of the dilapidated railroads, the cotton of the endless plantations, the smell of whiskey in the old black clubs, the poverty, the melancholy, and yet, the strong cohesion of his people, still trapped in a society that has very little of equality.
We are in the period preceding the second world war, and the American dream is already for many a bitter illusion. Great interest in music, especially in pre-war colored society, at times when even the music itself was undergoing some significant changes; Johnson, thus, learns to play the harmonica and only later will he approach the study of the guitar, certainly not aware of having in his mind extraordinarily innovative and revolutionary ideas, which would influence multiple musical genres. A mysterious figure, blurred by time and his own myth, the accursed artist in his ideal incarnation, personification of a modern Doctor Faustus who barters—an entirely appropriate term in this circumstance—his soul for an unusual skill with the guitar, and with a promise to become one of the greatest bluesmen in history, in an implausible yet certainly fascinating pact with the devil (a legend, this one, spread by Johnson himself).
It was after the death of his wife Virginia that he began to roam, defining the classic image of the “unbridled genius”, showing himself as a morbid lover of alcohol and women, but also as a tremendously talented musician (probably thanks to lessons given to him by two other eclectic and imaginative bluesmen, Ike Zinnemann and Son House). And it is precisely the figure of the woman that often finds space in his lyrics, an easy woman willing to quick adventures, alongside that disturbing and dark figure of the tempting devil: and so sin is the main theme, accompanied by despair and lack of faith in any possibility of redemptive ascent on the part of man, enmeshed in a perverse whirlwind of lust and ambitions, with no chance of escape. Lyrics, therefore, inconceivable for that era and decidedly bold, accompanied by the “vintage” sound of his acoustic guitar, which identifies rhythmic parts (with classic blues chords on the fourth and fifth string, often in 4/4) and small solo bridges on higher tones, enhancing the high notes of a Johnson who is an engaging interpreter of his works.
The box-set “The Complete Recordings,” composed of two discs (release date: 08/28/1990), gathers the complete discography of this great musician, remastered tracks that were originally and mostly recorded in a hotel room during some recording sessions organized by talent scout Ernie Oertle, shortly before his death. Even the last months of Johnson, however, were shrouded in an aura of mystery! There are those who are convinced he recorded a thirtieth track (hidden somewhere in Mississippi in great secrecy) and, moreover, we have not received any certain news about his death, except for the date of passing, August 16, '38: the usual legends tell us that he was probably stabbed by a jealous husband, others tell us of a death by poisoning and, as can easily be foreseen, there is a not insignificant number of rumors about it. In any case, he left an invaluable legacy for the evolution of music, despite his death coming prematurely, at only 27 years old, a sort of curse that struck other great artists, Brian Jones (first frontman of the Rolling Stones), Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison (singer of The Doors) and Kurt Cobain (leader of Nirvana), just to name a few, all disappearing at the ominous milestone of 27.
In conclusion, a fundamental artist, who brought to the attention of the public opinion (although exponentially more so after his death) the hardships of his America, rural America, black America, while at the same time leaving us important concepts that will be foundational to rock, contributing in some ways also to its birth.
"I'm a poor drunken hearted man and sin was the cause of it allBut the day you get weak for no good women, that's the day that you surely fall"
Tracklist Lyrics and Samples
03 I Believe I'll Dust My Broom (03:00)
I'm gon' get up in the mornin', I believe I'll dust my broom
I'm gon' get up in the mornin', I believe I'll dust my broom
Girlfriend, the black man you been lovin', girlfriend, can get my room
I'm gon' write a letter, telephone every town I know
I'm gon' write a letter, telephone every town I know
If I can't find her in West Helena, she must be in East Monroe, I know
I don't want no woman, wants every downtown man she meet
I don't want no woman, wants every downtown man she meet
She's a no good doney, they shouldn't 'low her on the street
I believe, I believe I'll go back home
I believe, I believe I'll go back home
You can mistreat me here, babe, but you can't when I go home
And I'm gettin' up in the morning, I believe I'll dust my broom
And I'm gettin' up in the morning, I believe I'll dust my broom
Girlfriend, the black man that you been lovin', girlfriend, can get my room
I'm gon' call up Chiney, she is my good girl over there
I'm gon' call up Chiney, she is my good girl over there
If I can't find her on Philippine's Island, she must be in Ethiopia somewhere
04 Sweet Home Chicago (03:04)
Oh
Baby, don’t you want to go
Oh
Baby, don’t you want to go
Back to the land of California
To my sweet home Chicago
Oh
Baby, don’t you want to go
Oh
Baby, don’t you want to go
Back to the land of California
To my sweet home Chicago
Now one and one is two
Two and two is four
I’m heavy loaded baby
I’m booked, I gotta go
Cryin’, baby
Honey, don’t you want to go
Back to the land of California
To my sweet home Chicago
Now two and two is four
Four and two is six
You gon’ keep on monkeyin’ ‘round here friend-boy,
You gon’ get your
Business all in a trick
But I’m cryin’, baby
Honey, don’t you want to go
Back to the land of California
To my sweet home Chicago
Now six and two is eight
Eight and two is ten
Friend-boy, she trick you one time
She sure gon’ do it again
But I’m cryin’, baby
Honey, don’t you want to go
Back to the land of California
To my sweet home Chicago
I’m goin’ to California
From there to Des Moines, Iowa
Somebody will tell me that you
Need my help someday, cryin’
Hey, hey
Baby, don’t you want to go
Back to the land of California
To my sweet home Chicago
11 Terraplane Blues (03:04)
Terraplane Blues
And I feel so lonesome, you hear me when I moan
When I feel so lonesome, you hear me when I moan
Who been drivin' my Terraplane1, for you since I been gone.
I'd said I flash your lights, mama, you horn won't even blow
(spoken: Somebody's been runnin' my batteries down on this machine)
I even flash my lights, mama, this horn won't even blow
Got a short in this connection, hoo well, babe, it's way down below
I'm gion' heist your hood, mama, I'm bound to check your oil
I'm goin' heist your hood, mama, mmm, I'm bound to check your oil
I got a woman that I'm lovin', way down in Arkansas
Now, you know the coils ain't even buzzin', little generator won't get the spark
Motor's in a bad condition, you gotta have these batteries charged
But I'm cryin', pleease, pleease don't do me wrong.
Who been drivin' my Terraplane1 now for, you since I been gone.
Mr. highway man, please don't block the road
Puh hee hee, please don't block the road
'Cause she's reachin' a cold one hundred and I'm booked and I got to go
Mmm mmm mmm mmm mmm
Yoo ooo ooo ooo, you hear me weep and moan
Who been drivin' my Terraplane1 now for, you since I been gone
I'm gon' get down in this connection, keep on tanglin' with your wires
I'm gon' get down in this connection, oh well, keep on tanglin' with these wires
And when I mash down on your little starter, then your spark plug will give me
fire
__________
Note 1: the Terraplane was a 1930's car model of the Hudson Motor Company, see a
picture and read more about it.
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