I don’t know what I expected when I showed up in Mississippi. I had some vague aspirations about getting out into the legendary Delta to see pieces of the Blues Trail, but I wasn’t sure how realistic it was to cover all of that ground in the short time I had. I thought it would be cool to visit the Crossroads, but everybody I know that has been there told me it’s literally just an intersection in the middle of nowhere. So I wasn’t sure it was worth the drive. This probably doesn’t sound like the beginning of a great article. I really thought of the Blues mostly in the past tense so I wasn’t expecting to find anything in Mississippi but some history. But OHHHHH MAMA! I have never been more wrong in my LIFE!
Big shout-out to America’s favorite couple, Will & Chelsea, for hosting me and being so incredibly down with the following adventure.
Close Encounters With The Blues
@F Jones
F JONES! What a place. We came here with very little information. We knew it was supposed to be a seedy, late-night, bar that had historically been associated with blues shows, and was hailed by many as being a good time, so we decided we’d check it out. But there was one catch—apparently, this place was not worth coming to before midnight. Word on the street was that prime-time here is 12:00am-4:00am. To which we responded, “PSHHHHHH yeah right. Too old for that noise.”
We resolved to arrive at 11:30pm and leave by 1:00am, so at least we could say we had seen it.
People say that Mississippi is poor, so I knew what to expect in a theoretical sense, but driving over here at night really made the economic plight of this place real. When we parked, we walked 2 solid blocks where literally every single building front was boarded up. Until finally we found F Jones. It was basically a little blue cube with a door. It all felt a bit sketchy, but we paid the $10 cover and went in.
Inside, F Jones is pretty much what you want from a blues bar in Jackson, Mississippi. Red lights. Black and white tiled floor. Neon beer signs. Bathrooms where the doors won’t close. Small stage area. Out back there is a large outdoor area with benches, and a window cut into the back of the building that looks straight into their kitchen so you can order drunk food like wings to heart’s content. And not an un-abandoned structure in sight!
Now, let me just take a moment to build up the gravity of my and Will’s opinions on music. We play together in Nashville, aka Music City. And that is a nickname that is more accurate than any outsider could ever realize on their own. If you’re in the scene, it’s a crazy place. We are inundated with music from talented players and artists all the time. We have played alongside some incredible folks—some that you have probably heard of! So we know what the fuck we’re talking about.
Maybe it was the fact that live music is only just starting to come back after COVID, or maybe it was the alcohol talking, but I can think of few other times in my life that I have been this electrified by a performance. It was unreal. UNREAL. As soon as the band came out and locked-in, I was on the edge of my seat. The rhythm section held it DOWN. The bass player had some of the tastiest licks I’ve heard. And the girl on drums KILLED it up there, completely taking control of the band’s dynamics. But when the frontman launched into his first solo… here’s actual footage of people in the crowd:
This guy could PLAY! And we kept the drinks coming. After a few songs, I asked the bartender who the hell was onstage. “JAMELL RICHARDSON!” was his response. Here’s his website, Instagram, and Spotify, just so you know where you can go find him. Through my drunken conversations with people at the show, I learned that he’s actually based in Mobile, Alabama and that the world-class rhythm section holding down the fort behind him were Jackson locals that were just sitting in with him for this show. The details are a bit, *ahem* fuzzy, but I remember the logistics dictating that they had likely not been able to rehearse before this, which made the performance all the more impressive. I was also told that Jamell gives all the proceeds of his music to his family back in Mobile. So that’s cool. Here are some pictures I snapped during the show.
Growing up playing the guitar, there were always people around me that really loved Blues music, but I never really connected with it until this night. I think it’s a genre that really needs to be experienced live. Somehow the magic doesn’t quite come through in recordings. Anyway, this is where I thought the story would end, but our little foray into the Jackson Blues scene turned out to be more on-theme than I realized at the time! So let’s skip over the 4:00am bedtime and painful following morning, and skip to the part where we load into the car and get out into the Delta.
Entering The FABLED Mississippi Delta
This region is preceded by its reputation. Everybody in America knows something about the Mississippi Delta, but a relative few have any idea what this place is actually like.
The delta itself is the flat area between the Mississippi and Yazoo rivers. It’s basically 7,000 square miles of flood plain. Before the advent of American history, this area was apparently forested, but white settlers quickly turned this into one of the richest cotton-producing areas on the continent leading up to the American Civil War. And the engine that powered this region was slave labor. In fact, this area was so heavily rural and agricultural, that black slaves made up the VAST majority of the population. In many counties in this area, the black slave population was double the white population.
After the Civil War ended, there was a point where 2/3rds of all independent, land-owning farmers in Mississippi were black. This was, however, a brief moment in history, as the white-controlled state legislature soon enacted a series of oppressive laws to rob blacks of their land and re-oppress them, which served their purpose until the Civil Rights Movement came along in the 1960s. And it was through this struggle where Mississippi largely earned its present national reputation as being one of the most backward places in the country. And nowhere embodies quintessential, rural Mississippi like the Delta. It’s been called "The Most Southern Place on Earth."
The history of the Delta is key to its identity—and we’re going to get into some of that history shortly—but I think the big thing you need to know about this place in the modern context, is that it’s REMOTE! There is no fast way to get in and out of this region. Even getting to Jackson, which is the capital of the state, can be tough because the airport is so small and under-serviced. And this makes some sense because the population of Mississippi is tiny. The population of Jackson is only 166,383, and the next largest city in the state after that is Gulfport, with a population of 71,676. These are small places. But the Delta makes Jackson look like Atlanta. Here are some shots out the window from the many hours we spent driving back and forth across this dusty, barren landscape.
The Crossroads
Of all of the history in the Mississippi Delta, there is one story (and site) that stands out above all others. Know simply as “The Crossroads,” it is the place where Robert Johnson is said to have famously sold his soul to the Devil. Oh—you aren’t familiar with this story? Well then let me read you in…
Johnson was born in 1911 in a small town in rural Mississippi, but his parents were forced to take him and move away by a lynch mob. He first got a taste for the blues in Memphis, but when his mother married a sharecropper, they relocated to a plantation in the Mississippi Delta. And this is when—legend has it—he made his famous deal with the Devil.
At this time, although he badly wanted to be a blues musician, he hadn’t yet developed as a talent. Notable bluesman Eddie "Son" House, was quoted explaining Johnson’s lack of skill at that time, saying ““…such a racket you never heard! ‘Get that guitar away from that boy…’ people would say, ‘…he’s running people crazy with it.’”
Well, the story goes that he found himself (and his guitar) out on a particular crossroads near the Dockery Farms plantation at midnight one night, when the Devil appeared to him in the form of a large black man. He took Johnson’s guitar, tuned it, and played a few killer blues songs in a distinct style. Johnson’s deal was that he would sell his soul to the Devil in exchange for masterful blues guitar skills.
This exchange is detailed in his songs, but did it really happen? Apparently, it has been confirmed that he really did get crazy good at the guitar one day, seemingly overnight. House later recalled seeing Johnson play again after the alleged events of The Crossroads; “He was so good. When he finished, all our mouths were standing open.” To make this all even weirder, a few years later in 1938, he died at the age of 27 under mysterious circumstances. In fact, he apparently went missing and the public did not hear anything about it or connect the dots that he had passed away for decades! The cause of death is unknown. So, there is definitely lots of room for spookiness and the supernatural in that story.
This spot where Robert Johnson supposedly made a deal with the devil is a real place. But where is that place? This has long been the subject of some debate, but officially the site is recognized as the intersection between Highways 49 & 61 (a.k.a. North State St. and Desoto Ave.), in Clarksdale, Mississippi. Today it’s literally just a random intersection in a tiny Mississippi town, but there is a monument in the street to mark the spot. Many folks that we spoke to in Mississippi told us other locations that they believed to be the REAL Crossroads, but we made the drive up here from Jackson anyway, just to say that we saw it. It was a LONG drive for an underwhelming site, but the mythology surrounding it is too good not to explore.
2023 Edit: I wanted to circle back and include something interesting that has really been sticking with me. In Adeem The Artist’s song “Going to Hell” there is a verse that goes as follows:
“Well I met the devil at the crossroads and I asked if we could make a deal. He seemed puzzled so I told him a story and he said ‘None of that shits’ real. It’s true I met Robert Johnson and he showed me how the blues could work. The white man would rather give the devil praise than acknowledge a black man’s worth.”
Food for thought.
What Is Delta Blues? And How Does Robert Johnson Fit In?
The origins of the blues as a whole are pretty mysterious. Some foundational elements of it are thought to have come over from Africa with the slave trade, but the “big picture” is that this style of music evolved over generations as the music of slaves on plantations across the American South. It was the early 1900s when any sort of broad cognizance of this style of music emerged, and by this point, there were already a few different regional variations in existence. One of the earliest of these regional variations came to be known as “Delta Blues,” and although it already existed in some form or another at the start of the 1900s, it was not actually recorded until the late 1920s.
Robert Johnson was not the first Delta Blues player, but he was close to it. He was one of just a handful of guys playing in this style when the record labels first became interested in recording it as “race records.” Some of his notable contemporaries included Freddie Spruell, Big Joe Williams, Charley Patton, Howlin' Wolf, Garfield Akers, and Tommy Johnson (no relation to Robert Johnson). These musicians paved the way for more notable artists that would follow like John Lee Hooker, and Muddy Waters. The significance of Robert Johnson’s music was not realized until after his death, but he has since become something of a legend.
And while we’re on the subject, it should also be noted that Blues as a genre is the headwaters for almost every popular modern music you’ve ever heard. It pre-dated, inspired, and influenced in one way or another the development of Jazz, Soul, Gospel, Country, Rock & Roll, and Hip Hop, and nearly everything in between. The influence of Delta Blues specifically was particularly strong with the British Invasion bands, such as Cream, The Kinks, The Who, The Rollings Stones, and The Beatles. Ever heard of them? All hail the blues!
Dockery Farms
I mentioned earlier that Robert Johnson’s famous deal with the Devil went down at a crossroads near Dockery Farms. This is a plantation where Delta Blues was supposedly born. Apparently, Charley Patton, Robert Johnson, Howlin' Wolf, and many others all lived here, which made it the place-to-be for the music scene in the Delta in the early 1900s. Today it’s just a few old buildings on the banks of the Sunflower River, but it’s an important stop on the Blues Trail.
Club Ebony + Other “Juke Joints”
Historically, black blues players like Robert Johnson would play most of their live gigs at places called “Juke Joints.” This is a very specific term that refers to these black-run clubs in the American South. These places generally were lively all night long, which starts to give me some context for F Jones 😂. As the years go on and the proprietors of these establishments start to pass away, many of these places, sadly, are closing. Po’ Monkey’s Lounge is a well-known example of one in the area that shut down a few years ago.
BUT there are some that are still running. Club Ebony is one of them. It was famously owned by BB King until his death. It wasn’t open the day we showed up, but I snapped a couple of pictures out front. We went to a couple of others too and I will say that these places really feel like they are frozen in time. They are tiny, run-down, and so full of character that I can easily picture them existing exactly as they do today in the 1960s, and seeing BB King himself walk into one of them holding a couple of guitar cases.
Here’s a Google street view of Club Ebony to give you a feel for how unassuming and random these places feel today.
Bentonia Blues Festival
@Blue Front Cafe
Another juke joint that we attempted to visit was the Blue Front Cafe, which is the oldest still-running juke joint in the state, located in Bentonia, Mississippi. When we rolled up to this little town, it was clear that the Blue Front Cafe was fixing for some sort of event that night. We walked up and were greeted by a short, swarthy, bald, white man in a neon tank-top, gym shorts, trucker sunglasses, and crocs. He told us that the final night of the Bentonia Blues Festival was that night and that we should come back that evening if we wanted to experience some “real blues.” “Everybody’s gonna be here tonight!” he insisted, “hundreds of people!” Performers for that night included many local, players, including the famous Jimmy “Duck” Holmes, the last of the Bentonia bluesmen. Honestly, I had never heard of this guy, but I also was not a blues aficionado prior to this trip. After experiencing blues nirvana at F Jones the night before, we were stoked to hear what was sure to be a more traditional form of Delta Blues out here.
We also asked if we could see inside the Blue Front Cafe, and we were promptly brought in to meet none other than Jimmy “Duck” Holmes himself! We had a conversation with him, but he had such a strong accent, made worse by the mumbly-ness that comes with being an old man, that I struggled to catch everything he was saying. He was a super nice guy though! We resolved to return that night on our way back to Jackson.
I was struggling to imagine that all that many people would actually be here for the festival. The Delta had just felt so sparse and remote that I couldn’t imagine a large crowd of people existing here. But when we rolled back up at sunset, there was already a party going on! We found a parking spot, made our way across the train tracks, and joined the crowd that had formed around the front of Blue Front Cafe. It was an interesting mix of people. It was probably 60% black, 40% white, and 99% local. We were the 1% that were out-of-towners (as far as we could tell). It was BYOB, so we cracked open the drinks that we had brought and just took it in.
As the night wore on, the music never stopped. We chatted with the colorful cast of characters in the crowd around us and felt very welcomed into this community! We explored the surrounding area, from a giant bonfire happening in a neighbor’s backyard, to a bar that had only plywood for its floor, walls, and ceiling. It was quite a place! And I was amazed at how comfortable I felt because… these were not my people.
In fact, I feel like I need to do some unpacking of the social dynamics that were at play here. Because they were surprising to me.
To be totally transparent, I had entered this experience a bit wary of the types of people that I would meet out here in rural Mississippi. But, by the end of this night, I liked these people! And I was even feeling convicted for my tribalist mentality going into this.
Everywhere I go I am always writing articles about how travel helps break down your prejudices by showing you that people are the same everywhere you go in the world. Well, it turns out that I needed to listen to my own advice here in Mississippi more than almost anywhere else I’ve visited.
Years into the Trump era, the culture war feels like an actual war sometimes, and that’s why this felt like such a powerful event to me. Not only did it give me a thought-provoking look into rural Mississippi, but it also showcased a level of racial coexistence that is honestly hard to come by elsewhere in the U.S. We’re still a pretty segregated country! But later, because I was curious, I stalked some of the white folks that I met on Facebook. Sure enough, they were all sharing the ignorant Trump bullshit that you’d expect, including a few remarks in particular that featured some scorchingly blatant racism.
For the life of me, I do not know how to reconcile this with what I experienced at this festival. I have to assume that almost no black person is going to be cool with people who share “Blue Lives Matter” content on their social media, and yet, the friendships I observed here seemed to cut across racial and political lines and seemed, from the outside, to be genuine! It reminded me of the days when your racist uncle was just some guy, not a potential soldier in the fight against democracy. It really makes you think about just how much the news we consume warps our reality. I still believe that we can all be friends and work together if we had more events like this to help us come together… but given our current state of affairs, I’m not feeling very optimistic about it right now. HOWEVER, this has been trending better since I deleted all the news apps off my phone a few weeks ago. I’d recommend it! I’m feeling less polarized already.
I don’t have any solutions to offer or grand insight to share. But this experience definitely gave me some stuff to chew on.
Here are some more pictures from the festival as evening turned to dusk turned to night. It was a vibe. 10/10 would recommend. Here are a few pictures I took on the back half of the night. Apologies for the graininess of some of these photos. I did my best. 🤷🏻♂️
That’s it for Mississippi! This was quite an experience. It felt like a far-away land, but and it all exists 5-7 hours away from where I live now (Nashville). What a world. I am gonna give one last plug for Jamell Richardson here—if you ever get the chance to see him live, do that shit!—but I think I have to go with Robert Johnson for the track of the day today.
Up next, South Boston (aka “Southie”)!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Peter was born & raised in Columbus, Ohio, and started this blog when he moved from Boston to Hanoi (Vietnam) in 2014. After years based in Nashville working on his band, The Great Palumbo, he now resides in London, UK.
