Words Of Condolence For A Los

Resting in the Blues

"Early this morning, When you knocked upon my door ...

and I Said" Hello Satan. I believe it's time to go ". "
(early this morning when you knocked on my door / and I said" Hello Satan. I think it's time to go ")

knew some Robert that came from south by the Mississippi , where the river opens up and flows into the delta. He was recently married to a young girl. He said he loved the music, knowing how to play guitar and harmonica. But we all regard this as an inept, just brought to the music: the instrument was awkward and pathetic, absolutely deadpan, moreover, was enough a few evenings with guitars in hand to prove it.
His wife was expecting a child, and both had moved down to Robinsonville . From here on we only know that she died during childbirth and that Robert, quell'impacciato guitarist, he disappeared.

"I got to keep moving blues ... 'falling down like hail ...
There's a hall-hound on my trail. "
(I have to move / come down like hail blues / There is a demon hell on my trail)

For a whole year no one saw or heard news of the man. In the end no one was missing its clumsiness. Someone thought he recognized a shadowy figure that was around a guitar at night among the tombstones of cemeteries across the Mississippi Delta.
fact is that Robert Johnson reappeared, but could not be more different and distant from the image-conscious and off, mortified at the beginning of the unfortunate player.
where he had been during those months? Those who had met him? What he saw because his vocals resonate like a cry so harrowing and ice? What had happened to his hands, that so wonderfully "made to speak" guitar strings? Who or what had done to his voice that stamp so deep and painful? No one could explain it.
He began playing in clubs. All they remained amazed, shocked, and he had the blues , seemed to have seen things that nobody else could imagine, horrors ancestral, that every time they took life from his vocal chords from his guitar.

"I Went Down to the crossroad,
fell down on my knees"
(I came down to the crossroads / and I fell on my knees)

They started a strange rumors. He showed no signs of anything ever, but the songs speak in his place ...
You heard of a midnight, a dark midnight of one of those desperate days of wandering. Poor Bob fell on his knees, overwhelmed by the darkness that hung over her shoulders, perhaps turning desperate prayers to God or the Devil. One of them answered.
In that desolate intersection, an area unknown, unknown in the night, Robert was approached by a strange figure. They talked about - what was said, who knows? - Maybe Robert continued to moan and whine about his knees, pleading ... So I went
transfigured, so he began to sound like nobody else in the world, singing stories of nightmares, screaming and crying with the notes.
But he was not. Wildly addicted to the bottle and the easy sex, barely connects him to the old Robert: I was like damn, damn. It is said that in the back of his black eyes shine brightly and evil ... a body without a soul.

And maybe it was really soulless, when his fame was growing, when his blues was celebrated throughout the delta, where had kept a record with any recording session, just then was recalled : death, suffering, after days of agony, for reasons that no one ever understood.
of him that there remained some unsettling memories and recording ... He had the blues, had its price.
Ask around, you will indicate that the end did what was left of the soul of Robert Johnson his death ...

"Me and the Devil
Was walking side by side"
(Me and the Devil / walking side by side)