Robert Johnson’s story is based on a fascinating part of African Folklore.

And a good reminder that if you are a young black man living on a plantation in rural Mississippi with a burning desire to become a great blues musician, don’t take your guitar to a crossroad near Dockery’s plantation at midnight and let the devil tune it.

Or you will lose your soul.

I live among snakehandlers at the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains in rural Georgia. Not only do they take up snakes in the name of Jesus, they run blow torches up and down their arms, and drink strychnine out of Mason jars.

Their backwoods tradition is to put a rattler’s tail inside their guitars cause “If’n you ain’t too scared to sneak up on a rattler and snatch his tail, then the devil cain’t make you too scared to play in front of folks.”

The preacher from their church heard us play at a bluegrass festival over in Tennessee, and asked me if we’d come perform at his church.

“Well, sure brother, We’d be rightly proud to if you’ll just run the mics out to the parkin’ lot cause ain’t no way I’m steppin’ foot in your church with those snakes runnin’ loose in there.”

Needless to say, we didn’t get the gig.

Roxie (who is fixin’ to go squeeze a lemon till the juice runs down my leg)

Recovery Rocks!
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