NICK DERISO: You would call Johnny J.’s stuff rockabilly, but that’s too small of a space. He’s got some blues in one corner, some echoey 1950s-era balladry in another. Carl Perkins, Fats Domino and Buddy Holly are party guests. This is the point where blues, jazz, country and rhythm musicRead More

Back in, oh, October of last year I got a wild hair and raved on a free form electrified cello performance by that late, lamented demon of the bowed bass, Tom Cora. The name of the stringed stream of conscienceness was called “Halleluhjah Anyway.” Back then, I made mention ofRead More

The title of this Chicago song, named after a Greek character who eternally pushes a rock up hill only to have it roll back down, is sadly ironic.

They are, these odds and ends, the last great treasure left by one Sam Maghett — better known as Magic Sam. This god of the tremolo embodied (just as fully, but with far less fanfare) the same gritty and adventurous West Side Chicago swagger more commonly associated with Buddy GuyRead More

by Mark Saleski I love to collect books about writing. Old ones, new ones. Books about technique, books about process. My favorite among these is the writing memoir. An older example of this might be Hemingway’s A Moveable Feast. More recently, there’s been Steven King’s On Writing. At the topRead More

NICK DERISO: Finding an impressive record by Lionel Hampton, known for both his harmonic and rhythmic sophistication, is easy. Finding one that delights as much as its intrigues anymore, however, is rare. His legacy, now more than ever, is secure: Born in Louisville, Ky., in 1908, Hamp would record hundredsRead More

NICK DERISO: I must admit, even now, an abiding love for the inner-ear damage that “Purrrr,” this long-forgotten hard-pop release, offers. But there’s more to it: Hollyfaith’s debut on Epic is, in some ways, perfectly done guitar-focused music, raunchily loud but then welcomely tender — and, in no small way,Read More

NICK DERISO: This song, issued in the wake of the devastating attacks on New York City in 2001, nearly overwhelmed me with grief the first time I heard it. I thought of my father. He’s been dead 20 years this summer, and I must admit that — like everything fromRead More

This record was, Blanchard told me, his love letter to Miles Davis. In retrospect, it was the beginning of his ascension from young lion into modern standard bearer, too. Born in New Orleans, and brought up in one of the final incarnations of Art Blakey’s traveling finishing school the JazzRead More

NICK DERISO: Cephas and Wiggins, America’s best remaining champions of the easterly Piedmont blues tradition, somehow never really made it. I mean, Robert Cray-type made it. Stevie Ray-type made it. A shame. Self-taught harp player Phil Wiggins, from Washington D.C., met John Cephas as the 1960s blues revival was inRead More