Wednesday, August 10, 2016

Used Car Dealers and Relative Obscurity

Well, sir, the boys and girls drooling and scrumming for "power" in the beltway are managing to make everybody else look classy. These are not leaders, mine or anybody else's.

I'm so proud to be a hillbilly singer.

Those nuts who live to find the next impossibly rare 78 prefer the blues singers from the '20's who never sold diddly. Oh, they loved Robert Johnson until Columbia rounded up all of the material and packaged it for the masses. Once Eric Clapton and the stratocaster boys went on down to the crossroads, that was it. They went back to Mississippi looking for some blind street singer who left behind one record that sold in single digits. They needed a new altar.

Pardon my bragging here but don't I have a bright future ahead of me? I seem to remember that it was my pal, Sylvie, who first suggested death as a career move. As distasteful as I find the subject, I'm aware that I move closer every day.

For over fifty years I've been making records and none of them have ever sold. Dang. Keep and eye on me.

1 comment:

  1. Stay exactly where you are. No exits, no wingless flights, no weighted swims, no safety checks to see if they've made bumpers that can stand impacts of over 2.8 mph yet. Feet on the ground, hands guitared, eyes squinched up in the spotlight. Write. Play. Speak.