Blues town, green grass fields small like cool water springs in the summer thunderstorm.
Clarksdale MS: Old men, gray hair, gray voices full of stories. Earthly sounds, metal strings. All imagination comes together; weaving a tapestry of sound, color, age, experience and true life tales. Real smiles, honest gestures of sharing everything life can give.
Fish, catfish, tastes like the smell of brown floeing rivers... a little hard to swollow but filling and healthy. Travelers, migrants, nomads and workers come together to remember the sounds of the past, so to be inspired to create the sounds of the future.
The Blues, howlin blues. NOthing blues. SOome people read about this life of blues and care, some read and do not care. Old man, pimped out, white hat, white suit, white shoes and 2 white teeth. But old Razor Blade is happy singing the blues with rhythms of 2's, 8's and 16's and the crowd says "aaahh haaah" he says "You ain't tellin on me know is ye. Aaaah Haah". Stories of cotton pickin, women, babies and more women. Stories of music, familiar names, familiar faces sounds and places. That is the land of the blues.
Riverside Hotel, colorful rooms, colorful characters. Use to be home for the dead and the Dying... a hospital long time ago. Taking into its walls the voices of Bessie Smith, Ike Turner and Muddy Waters. Now the walls are filled with stories, stories it shares every night with the visitors it recieves. Just watch as the music unfolds in your room. The only rat in the house is a man named Rat, the owner that will be your father for a day.
The blues... stories in a life time told with music and happy imagination to all!
