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Id Rather Be the Devil Skip James and the Blues

Saturday, September 19th, 2009

Id Rather Be the Devil Skip James and the Blues



Skip James (1902–1969) was perhaps the most creative and idiosyncratic of all blues musicians. Drawing on hundreds of hours of conversations with James himself, Stephen Calt here paints a dark and unforgettable portrait of a man untroubled by his own murderous inclinations, a man who achieved one moment of transcendent greatness in a life haunted by failure. And in doing so, Calt offers new insights into the nature of the blues, the world in which it thrived, and its fate when that world vanished.

User Ratings and Reviews

5 Stars What A Read!
It would certainly be wise to take everything Calt says about James with a grain of salt. He seems to have very bitter memories of the Country Blues revival in general, and all of the so-called “white guitar nerds” who befriended and, as Calt states, cheated many of the original Blues musicians whose careers had been brought back to life. I don’t know for a fact if James killed one man or many men, or robbed a bank, or hated all women; all I know is that this is what Calt alleges. The book is still great to read, though, because of its vividness. Calt also puts forth a theory that the beginnings of the Blues lie in a hymn that was taught to slaves. This is also considered quite a questionable theory in the Blues world. In addition to this, Calt has also said some negative things about the great Dick Waterman, who did and is doing a great deal to help the original Country Bluesmen and their living family members, respectively. One thing Calt is well aware of is that James was a genius, at least at his 1931 sessions, and that he never got the fame nor the recognition that he rightfully deserved, with John Hurt being favored by Country Blues fans. This is an excellent read, though the accuracy of the material is questionable, and is really in stark contrast with Elijah Wald’s “Society Blues”, a biography on Josh White, which paints its main character as a wonderful, heroic, gentle human being.

5 Stars A real biography
It’s a crying shame this is out of print and so expensive. It’s one of the best books of any kind I’ve ever read. It made me feel uncomfortable at times, challenging as it does so many predisposed ideas about the blues, treatment of black people and the music business. Calt has strong opinions and obviously his own axe to grind. But his musical analysis of James’ work is masterly and incisive. It’s a timely reminder that a great musician does not necessarily a good person make. If you like your myths about the blues kept intact, avoid. If you are open-minded and crave a good read, seek this book out. But listen to the music first.

4 Stars An in-depth study, but watch for biases…
For those interested in James and his music this is probably the most thorough biography available. Stephen Calt tends to be vitriolic and is often none to kind in stating his opinions about James’ behavior or those of other blues musicians discussed in the book. That’s fine, such bluntness is refreshing from the candy-coated, politically correct “criticisms” often present in biographies.
However, Calt does have one habit that is, in my opinion, a reprehensible practice for a biographer. He tends too much towards conjecture. Instead of stating events, he often extrapolates what people are feeling, thinking, or might have done in a given situation. This kind of “completion” can get in the way of allowing the reader to draw his own conclusions.
All in all though, if you are interested in Skip James you would do well to read this book.

5 Stars No One Said It Was Going To Be Easy . . .
What we have here:1) The lengthy and always compelling transcribed oral-autobiography of Skip James, a brilliant, idiosyncratic (and none too nice) blues musician from Bentonia, Mississippi whose greatest work was done in the 20’s and 30’s. A cynical fascinating tale of violence and feigned redemption, petty compromise and amoral cultural brilliance in the Jim Crow South. 2) A tour-de-force critique of the early 60’s Folk Scene and the misguided, patronizing white college students who “rediscovered” blues musicians like Son House, Mississippi Fred McDowell and Skip James. Told by a man (Stephen Calt) who, to his lingering shame and horror, played more than a bit part. A scathing dark comedy about race, art, America and ostensibly good intentions, which Tom Wolfe would’ve given a kidney to have penned.3) Pages upon pages of detailed technical musical analysis that, alas, is all too often prejudiced by the ambivalence and still festering rage of Calt. 4) A minor yet compelling intellectual memoir in which — twenty-five years after James’ death — Calt tries and fails miserably to reconcile all of the above.The end result is a deeply flawed, mashed together work of incendiary history, cruel insight and all manner of self-delusion. A messy harrowing work of great worth and constant interest.

3 Stars Five star story, two star delivery
No other comprehensive biographies of Skip James exist as of today, so Stephen Calt is your only choice if you want to learn about the man. The detail can be exhaustive at points and the information itself is well presented, but this book is a complete failure as a biography. For whatever reason, Calt adopts an extremely negative and nihilistic tone as narrator for the entire book and is unremittingly condescending to James and southern black culture in general. Calt regularly speaks in hyperbole and presents his own opinion or perception of a given incident as fact. Calt also loves to project himself into the story; this is permissible in first-person situations where he was actually present, but more often than not he wasn’t and is merely guessing at what he thinks happened. This is fine practice in a story, but not in a book touting itself a biography.

One other HUGE issue is Calt’s complete disregard for ethnocentric language. In one particularly heinous incident, on page 325, Calt asserts that an adult James “…was too much the plantation darkey…” to encourage white musicians to explore black music. This term should only be acceptable in a vignette recalling the roots of southern black culture and music; used in this context, it’s simply a racist and condescending judgment of a man for whom Calt seems to harbor a strange Freudian jealousy.

Weird book; weird author; weird musician. I guess it all fits. At least there are tabs for “Devil Got My Woman” in the appendix.

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