The Jinx Blues

Note: The following article was written by Bob Eagle, and originally posted to the “Blues-L” forum in January 2001. Other than a couple of very minor edits, here’s the article as it was originally published.

Here’s some exploratory ramblings on the word “Jinx” and its (possible) connections with the blues/Son House/et al.

JINX is the usual spelling in blues titles for a term which was earlier spelled “Jynx” in English. The term “jinx” has several specialized uses in blues parlance.

The term “jynx” entered the English language via Latin, but in a form effectively unaltered from the Hellenic Greek. The Hellenic “x” ending denotes the singular form, with the plural form (in English) spelled “jynges.” The “x” ending, being pronounced the same as “ks,” has led to the singular term sometimes being spelled “jinks,” probably erroneously.

The Greek word referred to the genus “Jynx,” a genus of birds allied to the woodpecker and known colloquially by the name “wryneck,” because of their ability to turn their head over their shoulder. This meaning had entered English usage by 1649.

However, such birds were used in witchcraft, and hence the term was also used in English, by 1693 (in the plural), to refer to charms, or spells. The term “wryneck” could also refer to a charm worn around the neck.

The term “jynx” was also used before the Christian era in Chaldea (the southern area of modern Iraq) as the name of an order of spiritual intelligences which formed part of the ancient Chaldean philosophy. That usage of the term had entered the English language by 1655.

However, as the glory of Chaldea preceded that of ancient Greece, the Chaldaic usage probably predated the Greek. Presumably the Chaldaic usage passed into Greek lore after Alexander the Great’s conquest of the area. Assuming that the Greek usage is connected with the Chaldaic usage, the wryneck may possibly have been regarded as a personification of the Chaldaic spiritual intelligences, and therefore took their name. In turn, that could explain the bird’s use in witchcraft, and why the term came to refer to a charm or spell.

Blues parlance does contain some examples of usage common to the usage of the term in white society, where a “jinx” is a person (or, less frequently, an inanimate object) whose presence brings bad luck, whether by some intrinsic lack of luck or by action.

Examples are: Ora Brown’s JINX BLUES (Paramount #12481, recorded c. May 1927); and Augustus (Track Horse) Haggerty’s I FEEL THAT OLD BLACK WOMAN IS A JINX ON ME (Library of Congress, recorded November 20th, 1934).

The term is also used in blues in the white sense, “to hex.” It is interesting that the meanings of “hex” include (as a verb) “to practice witchcraft (upon);” and “to bewitch;” and (as a noun) to mean a “witch;” and a “magic spell.”

It is also used in blues in the sense of a “hex,” used as a noun: for example, Gabriel Brown’s THE JINX IS ON ME (Gennett #5023, recorded May 2nd, 1945)

But also, as used in blues lyrics, “jinx” has some specialist meanings.

One principal meaning of “jinx” in blues usage is to denote a spirit of superhuman powers and (usually) mischievous bent, almost akin to a lesser devil. Compare its usage, with the meaning being obscured by bizarre syntax, by Charley Patton in his SCREAMIN’ AND HOLLERIN’ THE BLUES (Paramount #12805, recorded June 14th, 1929), most copies of which are credited as being performed by his persona, THE MASKED MARVEL:

“(If) I woke up in the mornin’, jinx all ’round your bed; (twice)
Turned my face to the wall and I didn’t have a word to say.”

In REVENUE MAN BLUES (Vocalion #02931, recorded January 31st, 1934) he sings:

“I wake up every mornin’ with a jinx all around my bed; (twice)
(spoken: “You know I’ll have them jinx hereafter”)
“I have been a good provider but I believe I have been misled.”

Other examples of the use of “jinx” in blues occur in:

Tampa Red’s JINX DOCTOR BLUES (Vocalion #1596, recorded January 28th, 1931);

Buddy Moss’ JINX MAN BLUES (Banner #33432, recorded August 9th, 1934);

Kokomo Arnold’s OLD BLACK CAT BLUES (JINX BLUES) (DECCA #7050, recorded January 15th, 1935);

Casey Bill (Weldon)’s JINX BLUES (Vocalion #03496, recorded September 3rd, 1936);

Red Nelson’s WHO PUT THESE JINX ON ME? (DECCA #7256, recorded September 9th, 1936);

Black Boy Shine’s GAMBLIN’ JINX BLUES (Vocalion #03687, recorded June 15th, 1937);

Son House’s JINX BLUES, Numbers 1 & 2 (Library of Congress, recorded July 17th, 1942);

Johnny Temple’s JINKS LEE BLUES (BLUEBIRD #B-8913, recorded September 11th, 1941);

Big Joe Williams’ JINX BLUES (Storyville LP #SLP 163, recorded October 16th, 1963) and JINX BLUES (Milestone LP #3001, recorded during 1964).

Son House’s JINX BLUES, NUMBER 1 and JINX BLUES, NUMBER 2 (Library of Congress, recorded 1942) share virtually only the title verse in common with each other, that verse being augmented by a number of floating verses which generally describe the lonesome feelings of the rejected lover. House’s songs employ the melody and, in the case of JINX BLUES, NUMBER 2, a verse from Willie Brown’s FUTURE BLUES.

Ignoring small variations, Son House’s title verse runs:

“I woke up this morning with the jinx all around, jinx all around, around my bed; (twice)
You know, I thought about you now baby, and it like to kill me dead.”

Taking into account the sense of the augmenting verses, House is using the word “jinx” primarily to mean evil spirits, unless “jinx” is intended to convey an enveloping blanket of gloomy thoughts. The word “it” seems to refer to his reaction to his thoughts, rather than to “the jinx.” Several of House’s augmenting verses describe “the blues” in terms of it being a feeling rather than as a personification of evil.

Taking up again the Chaldaic notion of a “spiritual intelligence,” one possible explanation for the above blues usage for “jinx” is found in the notion of the two inner “voices” sometimes used in popular stories to highlight an inner personal conflict: one voice, the conscience, is intent upon influencing the person to be “good,” while the other wants to lead the person into error or mischief.

The notion is similar to the Latin term, “genius,” which originally referred to either of the two opposed, but personal, spirits or angels which were presumed to “attend” each individual.

However, the personalization may derive from an African concept similar to the “genie” of Arabic lore, or the “genius” of classical text. In the case of “genius,” each person was regarded as being possessed of a good and an evil genius that struggled for control of the soul and the mind. The terms “jinx” or “the blues” may represent the evil genius within the individual.

In Arabic, there is a term “jinnee” (sometimes “djinn” or “jinn”) which described a spirit at a level lower than that of the angels. Solid evidence is lacking, but the Arabic word may be related to the Latin word “genius.” The modern notion of a “genie” appears to have come into English as a result of the French adaptation of the Arabic.

Therefore it is suggested that the above blues usage of “jinx” refers to the more sinister of the pair of spirits seen as attending the blues performer. It is suggested that a person regarding himself as the victim of bad luck or misfortune would usually feel that the more sinister spirit was continually attending him.

Despite the fact that Charley Patton, in his REVENUE MAN BLUES, sings “a jinx,” the context of both Patton’s quoted songs, and the title of Red Nelson’s song, and the title verse of House’s songs, is that there is more than one jinx, as is illustrated by Patton’s reference to “them jinx” and by Nelson’s reference to “these jinx.” Possibly the word should, after all, be transcribed as “jinks,” rather than “jinx.” As an extension of that notion, it is possible that, in black usage, the term “jinx” is related to the verb used in Scots dialects, “to jink,” which means to trick, or to dodge or move elusively. In the context of modern contact sports, its usage is to mean to trick the opposition by nimble movement. This usage may be related to the idea of “high jinks,” referring to boisterousness or merry-making.

It is also faintly possible that the use of “jink” as meaning “to play a trick upon” some body, was applied to the situation where fate plays a trick upon someone, leaving that person feeling dejected or “blue.”

The term “jinx” is sometimes used interchangeably for the term THE BLUES. An example of the use of the latter term to refer to spirits occurs in Coot Grant’s HEY DADDY BLUES (King Jazz unreleased/ Storyville (Dutch) LP #SLP 153, recorded September 18th, 1947).

We Like Mike – Part 2

Every episode of Blues Unlimited always has a dedication to Mike Leadbitter and Simon Napier at the end. There’s a reason for that — because it’s our way of paying tribute to two passionate blues lovers who changed the shape of blues literature — and research — with their pioneering publication, Blues Unlimited magazine.

We recently asked some folks who knew Mike “back in the day” to write a few lines in his honor, and here’s what they had to say.

From John Broven:
For a man who died 44 years ago at the age of only 32, Mike Leadbitter continues to have a huge impact on blues, R&B and Cajun music research.  Operating in a world where there was no internet or Google and little academic interest, his work has more than stood the test of time. For example, in recently updating my 1983 book, South to Louisiana, I found myself regularly consulting his publications and, of course, Blues Unlimited magazine. The accuracy of his research, especially his discographical masterpiece Blues Records 1943-1970, is astonishing. I am proud to have known him as a school friend and beyond, and to be mentored by him. Cheers, Mike!

Note: The first edition of Blues Records was published in 1968. The second edition, which came out after Mike’s death, expanded the coverage to 1970.

From Gayle Dean Wardlow:
Mike Leadbitter was my first contact at BU as early as 1965 when I did an article on H. C. Speir. Mike was the researcher and Simon the business part of the magazine. Later I combined my research on Elmore James from his brother in Canton, Mississippi and Johnnie Temple — and Mike and I did the first in-depth article on Elmore as co-authors. Later BU published my stories on Blind Joe (Reynolds) Sheppard and King Solomon Hill (Joe Holmes) where I added additional information from Holmes’ wife and friends in the Sibley/Minden area of Louisiana. I also did one on the Two Willie Browns. Mike and I thought alike on research and he and Simon even visited me in Mississippi when they did a 1970s trip to Houston. He always sent me a letter of thanks for my articles and supported the ones that sometimes created controversy or differing opinions. Without BU there was no other place to publish new research, especially after 78 Quarterly folded after two issues in the late 1960s.

Pictured (above): Leadbitter and Wardlow’s ground-breaking article on Elmore James, from BU #91 (May 1972); (below): BU #147 (Spring 1986).

Finally, our last tribute comes from Bob Eagle:

I first came across Mike when I purchased some early Blues Unlimited issues from Tony Standish in 1964. Issue #12 was the current issue, and I managed to get all the previous issues from Tony as well. By issue #15 (September 1964), I was the Australian agent, Tony having happily relinquished that task. Graeme Flanagan replaced me as Australian agent at issue #64 (1969). I had been admitted to practice as a lawyer in 1969, and was trying to publish my own magazine, Alley Music, and the BU agency fell by the wayside. However, I remained friendly with both Mike and Simon Napier, and caught up with both men when I visited England in January 1972. I first actually met Mike at the Eddie Burns concert at the 100 Club on 18 January, along with Mike Rowe (whom I just caught up with this past September), John Broven, Robin Gosden and others, including (as I recently rediscovered) Michael Prince. I met Mike again the following day at his work, and we caught up several more times before I left for the States early in February, including the obligatory visit to Bexhill-on-Sea. At Bexhill, I met and stayed with Simon and Diana (and was thrilled to see Diana again recently but saddened by how sick she was). I remember Mike successfully drinking me under the table on several occasions. I was introduced to the English habit of pubs closing in mid-afternoon, and the equally English habit of finding other pubs that remained open illicitly. I caught up with Mike again in early August 1972, enjoying a Chinese meal together, and on 4 August we went to the Marquee together, to see Johnny Mars and the hilarious local band, Brewer’s Droop. I then returned home to Australia and a job in law, after 8 months of immersing myself in blues. I had, in the intervening months, sent articles for publication in Blues Unlimited, while also fulfilling obligations I felt for Jim and Amy O’Neal at Living Blues.

Michael Andrew Leadbitter was born in Simla, India on 12 March 1942, and was raised at Bexhill-on-Sea. He and Simon began Blues Unlimited in 1963 and Mike remained its publisher after Simon’s 1973 “retirement,” until his own demise. Mike toured the United States in 1967, 1968, 1969, 1970 and 1973, and compiled Blues Records: 1943-1966 with Neil Slaven. Mike’s enthusiasm for the music, and for life in general, knew no bounds. It was with great sadness that blues enthusiasts like me heard of his death on 16 November 1974 from tubercular meningitis, contracted during his last visit to the States. He was survived by his widow, Rose.

Originally published in 1968, Mike Leadbitter was working on a greatly expanded book-length edition of Delta Country Blues at the time of his death.


Thanks to our contributors, John Broven, Gayle Dean Wardlow, and Bob Eagle who sent in their remembrances. At some point in the future, we’ll have a “Part 3” of this tribute (sort of) — that tells the story of an intriguing blues mystery, of which Mike Leadbitter played a part (Sorry! No spoiler alerts…. yet!)

Link for Part One

The “Blues LP Advertisement” Project — Part 3

Not that anyone was waiting on pins and needles, necessarily…. but…. we’ve been a bit behind these past couple weeks. So, without any further ado, here’s the final installment in our series, which sprang to life as a series of advertisements that were inspired by (or were theme and variation on) existing blues LP covers.

These ones, however, are a bit different, in that their inspiration comes from elsewhere. The first one might take a moment, simply because the inside reference isn’t necessarily a blues one, but here’s a link in case you need a little help jogging your memory.


The next one, quite frankly, never came out quite to our satisfaction. Although we liked the idea of centering it around Lightnin’ Slim’s famous rallying cry (“Well, blow your harmonica, son!”), and thought the subtlety of having a picture of Son-ny Terry was a nice touch — after seven different versions and various color schemes, we gave up. It is making its first (and last) public appearance in this post.


Finally, that brings us to our very last ad. And quite frankly, it is our favorite. The inspiration struck after finding a picture of Son House on the internet, in which someone had added radiating sunbeams to the background, creating an image that one might interpret in a couple of different ways (religious, of course, being one of them). And, since Charley Patton has often been referred to as the “father” of Delta blues, we thought it all fit perfectly together. Although we don’t know who did the photo-shopped Son House picture, the drawing of Patton is by legendary cartoonist and illustrator, R. Crumb (just to give credit where credit is due!) The words, of course, will probably be familiar to anyone who ever spent a Sunday morning in the pew of a church.

That’s it for now! Our next post will be part two of our tribute to Mike Leadbitter, Simon Napier, and Blues Unlimited magazine.

We Like Mike

Once upon a time in a little English seaside town, there lived a boy who loved music. Not just any music, but a particular kind of music. One that came from a far away land, way across the ocean….

Chances are, unless you’re the kind of blues fanatic who obsessively reads liners notes, bibliographies, and footnotes, you might’ve missed an anniversary this past week. On November 16th, 1974, the blues world lost one of its most passionate and tireless champions. A young British writer and researcher, named Michael Andrew Leadbitter. He was born in India, but grew up in the town of Bexhill-on-Sea, in Southeast England.

In a memorial written at the time of his death, John Broven says that he first met Mike in grammar school, in 1953. It wasn’t until four years later, in 1957, that they became friends — apparently talking about the rock ‘n’ roll hits of the day that captured their imaginations — by Elvis, Bill Haley, and Fats Domino. By the age of 16, Mike’s “formal” education was done. In his memorial, Broven hints at a persona that was a bit of rebel (“it was the age of James Dean, the Beat Era,” he writes), which was complimented by a seemingly natural curiosity and a photographic memory. “You could almost say,” says Broven, that “he was born to be a researcher.”

Broven says he lost touch with Mike after school let out, in the summer of 1958. A couple of years later, when their paths crossed again, Mike introduced him to Simon Napier, who Broven says he knew “just as one of the ‘big boys’ at grammar school.” Simon, often described as the one who handled the business end of Blues Unlimited, was three years Mike’s senior, having been born in Manchester, England, in 1939 — moving with his parents to Bexhill-on-Sea when he was fourteen. Napier later wrote about his future business partner and co-editor:

I first met Mike in 1955: he was intrigued by the fact that that I preferred Nappy Brown’s “It’s Really You” to the hit side, “Don’t Be Angry.” Some time later, he accosted me as I biked home with a treasured 78 of Chuck Berry’s “Down Bound Train” (in those days, 45s didn’t appear till weeks later; couldn’t wait), and invited himself home to hear it! A long and firm friendship was born — even then he was abstracting data from Jazz Journal’s list of recent U.S. releases, poring over R&B mags, compiling label lists and wondering who the hell Tippo Lite was; cursing over the fact that Ray Charles was winning Billboard Triple Crowns without a U.K. release, and tuning in faithfully to AFN’s [Armed Forces Network] Negro music shows to find out what the Cues, the Jacks, Google Eyes August, and Joe Hunter were doing. I was still fairly mainstream, digging Fatha Fats Domino and the Fontaine Sisters simultaneously, acquiring the definitive Hank Williams collection and standing in the Dominion cheering Bill Haley to the rafters….

In 1962, Napier and Leadbitter founded the “Blues Appreciation Society.” A year later, in April 1963, they launched Blues Unlimited magazine. The initial print run was 200 copies, which, according to several accounts, sold out almost immediately. Napier settled in as the editor, and would go on to hand-type the first 100 (or so) issues of the magazine, which at first, was just a simple mimeographed affair. By issue number five, Mike was listed as “R&B Editor,” and by 1965, was named co-editor. Between the two of them, Napier’s love of prewar blues meshed perfectly with Mike’s expertise on the postwar era. Where the two of them “met in the middle” (so to speak), was a mutual admiration for the music of Elmore James. Although Mike typically handled the LP reviews of ’40s and ’50s reissues, and Simon usually the earlier stuff, it’s a rare treat to see Napier, in the pages of Blues Unlimited, wax poetic about the slide guitar legend they both loved and respected so highly.

Going back to those very first issues — now, rare collector’s items — it’s nothing short of amazing to behold just how much both Mike and Simon knew at the time. Although today, information is taken relatively for granted in the “easy access” of the internet era, back in those days, if you wanted to find something out, you had to either dig, or know where to look for it. Fortunately, as the Blues Revival of the 1960s unfolded, Mike Leadbitter would be at one of the most unique junctures of the blues universe. Thanks to the magazine, information filtered in from all corners of the globe, and Mike — who, along with his photographic memory and natural curiosity, also apparently had the ability to collate vast amounts of data — took advantage of his unique position, and made full use of it, in his capacity as one of the magazine’s editors. [By the way… Mike also possessed a considerable knowledge of Cajun music; how he managed to accomplish that is a bit of a mystery!]

In the pages of Blues Unlimited, Mike and Simon constantly encouraged people to go out and talk to the artists, musicians, and producers who made the music — that were still around and could be interviewed. An early piece on boogie woogie legend Pete Johnson was particularly heart-breaking (“Pete Johnson – Today,” Blues Unlimited 8, January 1964). James Wertheim, a twenty year-old college student, befriended Johnson, and sent in an article. He described how this beloved piano giant still received letters from fans all over the world, yet was living humbly in Buffalo, New York, in ill-health, and scraping by on fourteen dollars a month — which was all that remained from his Social Security check after his rent had been paid (Wertheim goes on to mention that small royalty checks and donations from fans managed to find their way to him occasionally; according to one source, after the article appeared, Johnson became a member of ASCAP, which helped him to receive royalties on a more regular basis). This would be just one of several such “causes” that Blues Unlimited would bring to light, thanks to the platform the magazine afforded, and also, thanks to their readers (who in some cases, such as Juke Boy Bonner, sent in donations so he could get into a studio and record a new single).

Although Mike and Simon’s reviews and articles tended towards the positive and supportive end of the spectrum (one astute reader complained that it would take some £300 a year to purchase all the LPs that were earmarked as “essential” — almost $4,500 today, adjusted for inflation), Mike, in particular, was not afraid to tell the truth, as he saw it. In a rather excoriating review of the book Robert Johnson by Sam Charters, Leadbitter takes the revered author to task, in part, for publishing information gleaned from the pages of Blues Unlimited without giving due credit, and padding the book with lyric transcriptions and “vivid descriptions of crumbling Delta towns, dusty roads and sticky red mud.” He goes on to say, “I personally like and admire Sam Charters and can’t understand why he produced this bullshit for me to review.” What follows next reveals a key insight into Mike’s personality:

Perhaps [Charters] wanted to get his oar in before Steve LaVere and (reputedly) Mack McCormick get their interviews and pics in print. Who knows? Whatever, it’s about time that we got some of the facts about Johnson from those who know. I’ve never been one to sit on vital data just for kicks or money and I rather resent those who do. Blues, like science, is best served by those who share the fruits of their research….

After celebrating their tenth year anniversary, in the Spring of 1973, it was announced that Simon Napier would be stepping down. Assuming the reigns with issue 103, in the fall of 1973, Mike Leadbitter became the sole editor. With the magazine sporting a fresh new look, it seemed that a path was set, and the future assured. Mike became busier than ever, working for Hanover Books in London, writing articles and liner notes, working on a new book, making corrections to his magnum opus, Blues Records, and still — in his part time — making sure that Blues Unlimited was regularly published, according to schedule.

Starting the next year, however, troubling reports started filtering in. “This issue was somehow put together during a long bout of ’flu and even as I write this I have a feeling that it may finally appear a little later than usual. If it does, please forgive me,” he wrote in issue number 107 (April/May 1974). In his next editorial, little seemed changed:

By the time it was decided that I had an unspecified (?) ‘virus’ and not ’flu, BU 107 was already way behind schedule and your once chubby editor lost two stone [i.e., almost 30 pounds]. In spite of aching head and trembling limbs (no lie), I began work on this issue, to get it out on time, before seeing proofs of the previous one….

In issue 109 (August/September 1974), Mike’s health issues were starting to sound ominous:

Sorry to turn this into a health bulletin again, but London’s clinics and hospitals are rapidly disturbing my life. After nearly six months of treating me for everything but, they’ve at last decided that my continuing  illness is being caused by an infection of the lungs. In spite of the dark hints about TB and the like, they’re still not very sure about what I’m suffering from and I really don’t know what they plan next. Any sort of confinement in hospital, be it only for further investigation, would play havoc with BU’s timetable, and I’d like to warn you that there may be delays over issues or other odd happenings.

“It was… clear to his friends that he was taking on too much work for his own good,” John Broven wrote in his tribute. “He was becoming run-down healthwise…. We all thought he was getting better during the summer but in early October came the sad news that he was critically ill in hospital with meningitis. He never recovered.”

The next issue, number 111 (December 1974/January 1975), announced the tragic details of his passing:

“Michael Andrew Leadbitter,” wrote Simon Napier, “…died of meningitis in London’s Brook Hospital, on the evening of Saturday, November 16th, 1974. He was 32 years old, and a leading light since 1963 in the revival of interest and study of blues.” Of the many unfinished things Mike left behind, was a manuscript he’d been working on, about the blues musicians of Mississippi. Simply called The Delta Blues Book, John Broven reported reading an early version of it in 1974, and referred to it even then as a masterpiece. Forty-four years later, blues fans still hope, and await its publication.

In 1975, Blues Unlimited magazine was re-organized under a new editorial team, spearheaded by the capable hands of John Broven, Bill Greensmith, Mike Rowe, Neil Slaven, and Bez Turner. It would soldier on, for another twelve years, with additional editorial members coming in, and others going on to new things.

In 1987, Blues Unlimited published its last issue. In the previous years, its appearance had become more and more sporadic, and the challenges of publication (never an easy thing, mind you) — now with one third of the three-man editorial team living overseas — was just too much burden to bear. As suddenly as it had appeared, Blues Unlimited simply faded away. Although planned to be a special on Detroit blues, issue number 150 never hit the newsstands.

Simon Napier and Mike Leadbitter were tireless champions of the unsung, the unheralded, and the unknown — always making sure, of course, that the “known” folks received some coverage too. And although the magazine never had (as far as we know, anyway) a “formal” editorial policy, if they had an informal one, it would be this: that there is no such thing as a blues artist who is unimportant. During those early days, it’s hard to know whether or not they had a grasp of the magnitude of the work they were doing. With the benefit of hindsight, what they achieved was nothing short of remarkable — a priceless archive of articles, interviews, concert reports, photographs, news happenings, and contemporary record reviews, that, by today’s standards, is simply irreplaceable. In each and every page of Blues Unlimited, their love and passion for the music, and the artists that made it — was always front and center.

After Blues Unlimited, Simon Napier went on to run the family antiques business, and in partnership with Robin Gosden and Bruce Bastin, launched the highly respected Flyright record label, which encompassed a mail order department, a distributorship and publishing business, and a retail record shop. He was actively involved in the community of Bexhill, helping to umpire stoolball matches (“a unique Sussex game,” writes John Broven), lingering over games of chess, lending a hand in the local musical theatre, and eventually becoming President of the Bexhill Chamber of Commerce. Simon Napier died in his sleep on December 1st, 1990, at his home in Cooden, a suburb of Bexhill-on-Sea, where Blues Unlimited magazine was first published. He was 51 years old.

In 2015, the blues community welcomed the publication of Blues Unlimited — Essential Interviews from the Original Blues Magazine, edited by Bill Greensmith, Mike Rowe, and Mark Camarigg, and published by the University of Illinois Press. The project had long been a vision of Greensmith’s, and after many years, finally saw the light of day — a testament to the legacy of the world’s first English language blues magazine, and the two men who helped pioneer modern blues journalism.

…We have lost a cornerstone, not only of BU, but of the whole blues world, musician and enthusiast alike. It wouldn’t be too extravagant a claim to say that he has almost single-handedly raised the standard of blues journalism far beyond the vagaries that we all thought so fascinating in the first days of BU. Many others of greater or lesser renown have done much of the research work that was fundamental to an understanding of the development of blues styles and tracing the musicians and their careers. But it was Mike who by amassing an encyclopedic knowledge of names, dates and recording information, was able to ask the right questions at the right time, and by so doing, illuminate a previously unsolvable mystery. As his knowledge and writing skill developed, his articles and interviews became models of factual accuracy and background detail.

— Neil Slaven, from a tribute in Blues Unlimited 111.

Over the next week or so, we will publish some reminiscences from those who knew and worked with Mike Leadbitter at Blues Unlimited. Stay tuned for that….

P.S. We were told a long time ago — by a source we regard as highly reliable — that a group of English gentleman gathered yearly on the anniversary of Mike Leadbitter’s death, and proudly drank copious amounts of beer in his honor. We hope that somewhere, the tradition still continues.

P.P.S. Although we’ve currently lost track of its whereabouts, Arthur “Big Boy” Crudup’s recipe for home made corn liquor is ensconced somewhere in the pages of one issue of Blues Unlimited magazine. If we run across it, we’ll let you know….

Link for Part Two

The “Blues LP Advertisement” Project — Part 2

Continuing where we left off last week, here’s a few more for you. Once again, the idea was to have fun promoting the show, while paying homage to a few of our favorite blues LPs.

1) We’ve always loved Lightnin’ Hopkins, and we’ve always loved the artwork on this LP. A little bit of photoshopping was definitely involved…. but, since we’re talkin’ Lightnin’ Hopkins here, we figure it was worth all the time we spent neatening it up a bit!

2) Speaking of favorites, this one was irresistible. We spent a little time trying to “match” the typeface, and have to say we think it came out pretty close to the honoring the original. As for whether or not the original LP had either a white background or a cream-colored one, we’ll leave that for collectors to debate….

3) Once again, inspiration lent itself pretty easily when it came to this long-time fan favorite….

4) Finally…. that leads us to our last advertisement to be inspired by an LP cover. Once again (as with the Howlin’ Wolf/Elmore James one from last week), there’s a definite “inside joke” here. Long time blues fans will immediately “get it,” but for those who might be in the dark, the caption at the top refers to a heated exchange (most of it unrepeatable in public) between record label boss Leonard Chess and Sonny Boy Williamson, on the topic of what constitutes a small town, versus what a “little village” might be (which was the name of the song Sonny Boy was attempting to record that day, before Chess so rudely interrupted him). We were tempted to honor the “original language” between the two of them to reflect this now legendarily infamous exchange, but in the end, thought the better of it. If you “get” the joke, we’re pretty sure you’ll get a chuckle out of it….

Next week…. we’ll feature the last of the bunch (whose inspiration was from other than old blues LPs), plus, our absolute favorite from the whole series!

The “Blues LP Advertisement” Project

So, this wasn’t really a “project” per se, but…. a couple years ago, we thought it would be a good idea to try and promote our humble little radio show while paying homage to some of our favorite LPs (or, in the case of entry #3, perhaps ones that were, well… LOL… uh, “infamous,” shall we say). The main idea was to get the word out about the kind of music we like to play around here at Blues Unlimited.

Some of these we thought came out pretty good, and maybe others missed the mark a bit. You be the judge…. and next week, we’ll have a few more for you as well. The long and short of it…. don’t worry! We’re not giving up on the radio show business to become high-powered ad executives on Madison Avenue anytime soon!

1) Muddy Waters. This seemed like an obvious place to start…. right?

2) Next up was Howlin’ Wolf. This took a bit of photoshop “wizardry” to get the typeface right, and although we had fun doing it, weren’t too sure the end result was really worth all the time it took.

3) Next up, somebody near and dear to our hearts…. Elmore James. The inspiration for this one came pretty easily, and we figured that die-hard blues fans would “get” the inside joke.

4) Speaking of which, this ended up being one of our favorites from the series. Although it helps to know the inside reference, we like to think it speaks for itself really. And besides… Mississippi Fred is one of our all time favorites!

That’s all for now! More next week….

Hello to all our fans and listeners!

We’re really excited about our brand spankin’ new website! We figured after 8 years of production, 229 episodes, and more than half a million words that have gone into our radio program scripts, it was about time we had a place of our very own on the web. Welcome, and stay tuned… we’re glad you’re here!

(and… in case you’re curious… that amounts to about seven or eight thousand pieces of music. We don’t have an exact count on that yet. We’ll have to get back to you…)