Traversing Blues Trail 61 to Clarksdale in Mississippi

A sleepy little town, bohemian as it can get without any unnecessary attachments, Clarksdale's corners and streets are full of graffiti. It was a place devoid of too many humans, businesses and other extras that cities carry. Many claim that Clarksdale, Mississippi is the birthplace of blues. Many Blues Musicians started here and traveled up north to Chicago etc to seek their fortunes. Since then it has been home to famous blues musicians like Muddy Waters and Son House and Blues festivals and gatherings for people from around the world.

Morgan Freeman's Ground Zero Blues Club

 Ground Zero Blues Club covered in Graffiti

Clarksdale's eating places and bars like one owned by Hollywood actor Morgan Freeman, have everything rich, fried and filling. Ground Zero Blues Club even had its ceiling full of graffiti and apparently Shaquillle O Neal's shoes were hiding from the heat of southern cooking. Clarksdale's blocks are dotted with plenty of Blues tucked in its rickety spaces; this is what Clarksdale is; it is one of those historic dots on the Blues Trail, the road that took many Blues artists from the south to the north where the music evolved from a blue hue to one of  burgeoning business. 

In Clarksdale, you'll find plenty stories from current generations descended from Blues artists and musicians. Riverside Hotel, somewhat a dark, sun-less place with its curtains down but nonetheless was full of life and beds where Bessie Smith and  Duke Ellington had slept while en route to other places. We found succor in hanging outside the hotel on metal benches with its owner Zee; here passing musicians like RazorBlade stopped, chatted and gave us their philosophy of life plus sold us some CDs; the CD-buying-business was repeated throughout the trip.

RazorBlade and Me

Barry, Zee, Me

Zee is perhaps the best of hosts a hotel can provide; we shared jokes and guffawed till it was time to leave. This is also the place where Herman the Hermit lived and took my husband for a visit to the great Mississippi River; we now have mud from the big river which we can easily pass off as exotic chocolate from some unknown lands. 

While in search of Blues, we found Clint Eastwood looming large on the wall of the city along with many others sans guns. 

Clint Eastwood and I in Clarksdale, Mississippi

Wall Paintings in Clarksdale

Wall Paintings in Clarksdale

I thought we had lost our minds and way when we arrived at a desolate area known as Shack Up Inn. With the darkness of the night, no lights and absolutely miserable looking conditions of the place, I was ready to entertain some ghosts. This was supposed to be sharecroppers' shacks during America's slave era. We were going to stay the night here, in shacks complete with sheets of tin as ceiling and black and white photographs of people from the 18th century, tissue paper stuck in holes in walls, other knick knacks stuck wherever prior visitors thought was good, and of course graffiti. We were kicked out after one night because a horde of Norwegians had booked the entire place for their Blues' Show the next day in Clarksdale.

Shack Up Inn in Clarksdale (we stayed in this shack)

With Lightnin' Malcolm, Musician, in Shack Up Inn

Thanks to Big Malcolm or Lightnin Malcolm, who jumped in our Jeep and thus became our first unofficial guide; big man brought us to Red's, a small dark and red place with some loud Blues. Big Malcolm is a Blues musician and we ended up buying his CD plus got some pictures and signatures with him. Stan Street, an artist and musician from NY did a performance while we drank beer and bought some art while hanging around his chic art gallery; Deaks played his harmonica while we bought his CD; Steve Kolbus, the effervescent Salesman, who seemed to be everywhere, talked us into buying some of his CDs as well! All in all, we from up North got thoroughly played into buying plenty of music, one way or another. 

An exhilarating performance was given by Watermelon Slim; this Blues artist clearly outdid all rock performers despite having a few teeth; we bought more CDs. From ones who didn't sell us anything were crazies like Herman, Custard Pie and beautiful Marge.

Clarksdale tricked us; it only looked sleepy!

Shack Up Inn in Clarksdale

Steve the Salesman/Musician

Private Session by Artist/Musician Stan Street, Gallery Ham Bone

OPEN sign is a joke: in search of food, exhausted

Iconic Crossroads of Highway 61 and 49

Crossroads of Highway 61 and 49

Iconic Crossroads sign of Highway 61 and 49, is what made my sis-in-law finally become overwhelmed with emotion. This is the site where allegedly Robert Johnson sold his soul to the devil! We got thoroughly sold ourselves and promised to return there, again, sometime in life, when the Aussies come back for another trip to America.

Frenzy of Heavy Metal Music

If there's anything that can drive people in a state of frenzy then it has to be headache-inducing-head-banging-Metal. If you're going for the kill, this is the music that one must hear. Not only will it explode the enemy's head, it will pretty much cause an explosion of your own head as well. In case, you ever had a chance to see live Metal Show, you'll see on stage, the machoest of macho men, the alpha males, the kind every girl dreams of till her ear drums are ready to give up all pretense of sound. Lead guitarists and Bass guitarists, each occupy between three to four feet of horizontal space with their leg-spread, six feet of vertical height, with an additional few feet above to allow for leaping, jumping and landing on stage or off onto the heads or into arms of frenzied fans. Girls wait for such immense weights to fall on them; boys and men don't mind it either; after all Metal is the rite of passage!

So what is Metal? It is as generally described as thick, massive sound characterized by highly amplified distortion and loudness beyond loud. Heavy Metal performance styles are often associated with ultra masculinity, aggression and machismo! Urban Dictionary describes it as a type of music characterized by a cacophonous wall of sound and accelerated tempo achieved through distorted electric guitars playing fast-paced riffs, with the driving drumbeat often utilizing hypersonic double bass rhythms. Other sub genres besides Heavy metal are Death Metal, Thrash Metal, Drone Metal, Post Metal, Sludge Metal, Speed Metal, Glam Metal and other choice Metals.

There is no voice like that of Heavy Metal. If Satan enjoyed or played music, he would do it the Metal way. For music, there is rumble followed by thunder and finally by doom. Yes, it's those Metal Guys belting out sounds straight from the belly of the beast. Those vocal cords have to be made of steel! Drums are hit with all possible might, guitars are played with a vengeance, words or something sounding like words are spat out to the tune of thunder. Leaping, jumping, sliding, clawing, racing on stage on one leg with long wavy hair, clanking chains, smashing heads, shattering drums, and generally breaking things are part and parcel of a Metal Show.

It is difficult to say who feeds off whose energy and madness. Metalheads are just as senile as their heroes, the Metal Men. Just in case, Metal Bands see any signs of dissipating energy in the lunatic world also known as 'crowds', pyrotechnics are there to provide all necessary fire and heat. Smoke bellows out from all corners of the stage and entire bands look ready to explode. The crowd responds, creates a space called the mosh-pit and in that pit they descend like zombies; their participation restricted to pushing, shoving, spitting, flinging themselves, spinning heads, falling, getting trampled, screaming and doing the same again and again. These are pits where youngsters, teenagers, and senile adults  allow themselves to get crushed, mashed and packed into unrecognizable forms.

Nothing but black is worn on stage by Metal Bands; black jackets, black shirts, black shorts, black pants, black bandanas, black socks, black boots and thick black kohl laden eyes and make-up. If they never wore anything, that would suffice as well on account of their bodies being covered in tattoos. Guys without deadly black glasses or big buckle belts or long tongues would be a disgrace to Metal. Chains, steel, multiple rings, nose rings, belly piercings, tattoos, skull heads, snakes, dragons, swords, guns, fierce looking beasts, all stick to Metal like magnets.

This Metal melts metal and human skulls simultaneously. As blinding green lights and red lights explode, Metal Concerts transform into furious sounds and mounds of forms swaying in unison with the inevitable hand gesture of the forefinger and little pinky thrust into darkness.