songwriters,inc.magWHOLEMAG

3
A lettor to
the editor...
Dear Sir,
I am not the kind of man who likes to make a
stink. But I was just down at Shelly’s Porkpie Shack
in Shreveport, Louisiana talking with a few folks
having a high-time when I looked up and saw
in one of those spindly racks behind the
counter your magazine with The 100
Greatest Artists of All Time. I recognized
some of those faces on
the cover except a bleach haired
kid that looked like Jesus on reefer
and like I said I don’t like to make
a stink but I didn’t see any mention
of Rabbit Foot Baker not even in
the tail end with that Black Sabbath
fellow biting the head off that poor
bird. Real music is made in backyards
and barrelhouses that smell of piss and
blood.
That’s slow, man, real slow. That’s the creeping up
of real music on you and I understand you don’t
get that where you’re reading this (my great grandson
Dennis Jr. is typing on the computer for me because
my thumping hand has gone slack). I’m a
hundred blood in me young. I cut my first guitar
strings
from wires on
our porch screen. I went with the
Rabbit Foot Minstrels from 1910 until the war.
After the war I showed everyone in Chi-town - Big
Bill, Tampa Red - excuse my language sir but it’s
God’s honest truth - like when I met everybody’s
favorite Robert Johnson he smelled like he had
just done surgery and then fell face first into a gin
bath. Scrapper Johnson - how to really dig in ‘til
your hand don’t feel like yours no more and you’re
bleeding on somebody’s brother’s guitar. You want
to know who wrote that lick to “Lucille?” No it
wasn’t me.
The clown went to town and I saw him
and I gave him a high five. I hope this
design turns out cool. That was Dupie
McClure, the had slanty eyes. I don’t
see him in your magazine either. As
I said before I don’t like to make a
stink but you need to get your staff
to do some more research like
when those two white boys from
the Smithsonian in Washington,
DC came down to do some real
recording, like a scientific thing. The
slow creep of a knife on some old strings
that’ll gut you just as clean, a sound that’ll
make you cry for being happy. That’s the
blues, man. My grandson Dennis Jr. says
you also publish your magazine on the internet
God
which he says
Bless.
more see these days.
5SOS TESTED,
5SOS
APPROVED