While countless others preceded him in dying an untimely death, it could be argued that Robert Johnson was the founding member of rock's infamous 27 club. Like many of his fellow alumni on that list, Johnson faced his share of troubles, which in retrospect read like a CV of The Blues itself... Born into a huge and impoverished family, he left his hometown of Hazelhurst, Mississippi at the age of two, in the wake his father's forced exile to Memphis at the hands of a lynch mob. He eventually made his way back to Robinsonville, Mississippi, where he came under the tutelage of Son House, lost his first wife in childbirth, and began to draw accusations of having sold his soul to the devil (can Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison, Kurt Cobain or Amy Winehouse claim any of that?). Johnson then made his way to Martinsville, where he perfected the technique taught to him by House, as well as that of Ike Zimmerman, and began his career in earnest as an itinerant musician, playing the juke joints and dance halls of pastoral, humid burgs across the South, sleeping wherever he landed and with whomever he managed to seduce...
All of this backstory is, of course, little more than legend. Johnson was an obscure figure in his day; little was documented of his own experience, and what is known about him is as much rumor as fact. All that's really left to posterity is a scant collection of recordings, which were unearthed in the early '60s and would prove hugely influential to pretty much everyone to come along after Elvis. Whether you're a fan of the Beatles, the Stones, Dylan, Clapton, Zeppelin, the Ramones, P-Funk, Van Halen, the Replacements, Slayer, Nirvana or Interpol, you owe at least some debt of gratitude to Robert Johnson. Neither Vol. 1 nor 2 of King of the Delta Blues Singers, which together comprise most of Johnson's recorded output, is exactly an easy listen by contemporary standards. The recordings obviously betray their primitive 1930s technology, and Johnson's brand of Mississippi Delta Blues, a niche product at best in its own time (estimates put Johnson's sales at about 5,000 records during his lifetime), is far from calibrated to 21st Century ears. That said, without it, what we listen to today would probably sound significantly different, and likely not for the better. So get your hands on a copy, give it a listen or two, pay Johnson his homage, and if you never take it off the shelf again, at least you'll know where your New Wave, your Emocore, your Black Metal, etc. come from.
Some other thoughts:
#423, The Mama & The Papas' Greatest Hits: John Phillips' tight, crisp songwriting and his band's four part harmonies bridged the gap between the pristine Surf-pop of Jan and Dean and the Beach Boys, and the hedonistic Cali-rock of Steve Miller and the Eagles. Like Fleetwood Mac after them, the band was beset, and ultimately doomed, by internal conflict and relationship issues. And just to put a persistent rumor to rest, Cass Elliot did not choke on a sandwich; she died of a heart attack.
#422: The Best of the Girl Groups, Vol. 1 & 2: Not a single track from the Supremes or the Vandellas on the whole thing, but most of the rest are represented, including a few that are all but forgotten to history. It seems ludicrous nowadays, but taking into account the conservative cultural climate of early '60s America, one can almost understand how the Shagri-Las singing about wearing the class ring of a motorcycle riding rebel could put the fear of God into Eisenhower Republicans with teenage daughters. Good thing they didn't have GG Allin to deal with back then...
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