Pacts With The Devil

The pros and cons of making a deal with the devil, particularly for musical talent.
 
Introduction:

• Host: Darren
• Topic: Pacts with the Devil
• Focus: Examining the folklore and cultural significance of making deals with the devil

Segment 1: Adam, Eve, Jesus

• Jesus in the wilderness being tempted by the devil before his crucifixion
• Reflection on Adam and Eve's original sin in the Garden of Eden
• Lucifer's rebellion and temptation, leading to his fall
• The enduring theme of trading something for forbidden knowledge

Segment 2: Lucifer

• Lucifer's desire for absolute power and attempt to overthrow God
• Comparison with human pacts for fame, riches, or power
• Exploration of the value of knowledge and the temptation to transcend humanity
• The story of Dr. Faustus and the theme of selling one's soul

Segment 3: Hermes, Apollo

• Discussion of Hermes (Mercury) as a guide and psychopomp
• The invention of the lyre and its connection to Apollo
• Symbolism of the crossroads in various cultures
• Crossroads as a liminal space and its spiritual significance

Segment 4: Devil’s Bridges, Crossroads

• Devil's bridges in Europe and their symbolic significance
• Burial traditions at crossroads in Great Britain and Ireland
• Reflection on the intersection of different realms and thresholds
• The association of crossroads with transition and change

Segment 5: Hoodoo, Voodoo

• Introduction to Hoodoo as a set of spiritual practices
• Crossroads in Hoodoo and its connection to African traditions
• The influence of Yoruba and Kongo people on crossroad symbolism
• Evolution of beliefs from Africa to the Americas, including voodoo

Segment 6: The Blues

• Exploration of the blues tradition and its connection to the crossroads
• Tommy Johnson's legend of making a deal with the devil
• Robert Johnson's mysterious talent and the crossroads myth
• Comparison of the blues legends and their stories

Segment 7: Bob Dylan

• Transition to the 20th century and the influence of Robert Johnson on musicians
• Bob Dylan's encounter with Robert Johnson's music
• The fascination with the supernatural and deals with destiny
• Reflection on the enduring impact of the crossroads myth in music

Conclusion:

• Recap of the various cultural and historical aspects of making pacts with the devil
• Reflection on the symbolic importance of crossroads in different traditions
• Acknowledgment of the enduring allure of these stories in folklore and music

See playlist of music mentioned below:

Don Giovanni (Commendatore Scene):
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7cb1QmTkOAI&ab_channel=MasterplanHD
Berlioz (Damnation of Faust):
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s_VhntYN1ew&ab_channel=medici.tv
Giuseppe Tartini (Devil's Trill Sonata):
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZkX8YyA4Wp4&ab_channel=AVROTROSKlassiek
Paganini (24th Caprice):
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PZ307sM0t-0&ab_channel=Ellingmint
Liszt (Totentanz):

https://www.facebook.com/TheMakersRage/
https://www.instagram.com/themakersrage/

Music by LiteSaturation from Pixabay

Chapters

• 0:45 Adam, Eve, Jesus
• 2:56 Lucifer
• 5:59 Hermes, Apollo
• 7:59 Devil’s Bridges, Crossroads
• 9:35 Dr. Faustus
• 13:48 Tartini, Paganini
• 16:54 The Blues: Hoodoo, Voodoo
• 20:21 The Crossroads
• 25:40 Robert Johnson
• 33:42 Bob Dylan

Transcript

Pacts with the Devil

Adam, Eve, Jesus

Hello, my name is Darren, and welcome to The Makers Rage podcast. Pacts with the Devil. Before being executed by the state for blasphemy, a certain Jesus of Nazareth went into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. You see, it was his contention that since the first man, Adam, failed so miserably when he was tricked - at least he said he was tricked, when in fact, he and his wife just wanted to know what all this knowledge of good and evil was about. The devil in the form of a serpent, an animal he knew well, but perhaps hadn't exchanged words with before, dangled before them like a toothsome treat the prospect of knowing things that are forbidden - the strongest temptation of all, it seems. And having responded positively to this prospect, condemned himself, his wife, his progeny, and all of humanity, to death, damnation, and eternal ruin. And before being cast out of paradise into the wilderness, complained to God about being promoted from darkness into consciousness, from the dead red clay to a being in the image of God, but unlike God, with a tendency to fall. 

Jesus, being a man, thought he'd do one better by being tempted, not in paradise by a talking snake, but in the desert by the god of this world in all his fallen glory. And after fasting for 30 days, the devil came and saw right through his disguise: if you're the Son of God, turn the stones into bread. If you're the Son of God, throw yourself off this temple and let the angels catch you. Nope. Okay then. One last thing. See all these kingdoms, empires, the glory of them, they're mine, to give to whomever I choose. And they're yours, if you'll only fall down and worship me. Still not biting. Right so? See at the crucifixion. To be honest, I probably would have folded at the bread. But the question, What shall it profit a man if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul? Or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul? When it comes to knowledge, creativity? Well, that's the topic of this podcast. 

Lucifer

What's wrong with knowledge, though? Simply wanting to know more? Of the making of books there's no end, and we haven't even enough time to read all the ones we want in a single lifetime. Selling your soul for fame, riches, or power seems vulgar compared with doing so simply to be more knowledgeable. One can argue, though, that selling one soul to know more than anyone has ever known, to know as much as God, even, professes a desire to transcend one's humanity, one's mortality, the limits of one's understanding, in order to see the world as the creator sees it, in order to experience eternity as one who was eternal. The original sin wasn't Adam's and Eve's in the garden. It was Lucifers, who got close enough to absolute power to want to overthrow it. And for this, to quote Milton, "the almighty power hurled him headlong, flaming from the aeterial sky, with hideous ruin and combustion down to bottomless perdition." Adam and Eve got off easy by comparison. And being jealous of God's new favorites, he took on the form of a serpent and made his first attempt at seducing a human being to join him in perdition. And they succumbed. Easily. Pointing the finger of blame at each other, at the serpent, as children would. And we don't pity them. They knew the consequences, although we may regret their decision since it had long term implications on all of our souls, and of course on any future bargains the devil makes in exchange for our souls. For they must be done with the understanding that, due to original sin, the soul's value has depreciated somewhat, from that of our ancestors in the garden. 

And profane Dr. Faustus, Renaissance humanist bad boy and romantic hero who studied divinity and should have known better was nonetheless seduced by the dark arts, necromancy in particular, must've thought he was getting a bargain in exchanging his contaminated post-lapsarian soul for a couple of decades, living in pure voluptuousness. Indeed, Christopher Marlowe suggests there are some who would give up their souls for a shoulder of lamb. Although these perhaps need lesson or two in the art of the deal. Of course, the devil, being immortal, and already damned has nothing to lose in claiming yet another conscript, although tainted by original sin, for the final showdown with the Almighty. And all the fool wants in Exchange are a few fleeting experiences to enlarge his meaningless, transitory existence. But what if all I want is a shoulder of lamb, or to get good at the guitar say, maybe the devil will settle for less. Or since he drives such a hard bargain, maybe I should talk to someone else. 

Hermes, Apollo

Hermes, whom the Romans called Mercury, seems a more amiable chap, Quicksilver, fleet-footed, a guide to travelers. Temporally, like a patron saint of trade, commerce, or exploration, but also of pilgrimage, even of those who move between worlds, a psychopomp, one who guides the soul into the afterlife. He also invented the lyre from a turtle shell and the entrails of Apollo's stolen cattle. And Apollo didn't mind since he totally stole the idea to invent the Kithara, a seven-stringed instrument based on a lyre. It's no accident Kithara sounds like guitar. I certainly wouldn't mind having an agreeable and entertaining guide like Hermes to shepherd me past the three headed dog monster guarding the entrance of hell. One feels like he's guarding the entrance to prevent anyone getting out than getting in. Three heads, like the goddess Hecate, who had power over heaven, earth, and sea; a liminal deity, like Hermes, presiding over thresholds, doors, gates, rivers, frontiers. For the Greeks and Romans, these held spiritual significance regarding transitioning and going somewhere else, a change of direction, of planes of existence, three heads, one for each of the paths to the left, right, and before you, the fourth path along which you traveled to arrive there, is the one you'll take to go home once the meeting has concluded. Indeed, the ancient Greeks had a ritual of leaving supper at crossroads as offerings to Hecate at each new moon. Perhaps a ritual of protection, or of transition, the moon being so changeable - at its fullest, already waning. 

Devil’s Bridges, Crossroads

And bridges serve the same function, instead of two crossing roads, a road crossed by a waterway. Hence all the 'devils bridges' around Europe I guess, especially in Germany. In Great Britain and Ireland, there was a tradition of burying criminals and suicides at crossroads to help them transition, no doubt; and prevent their ghosts from lingering in this realm. But, alas, I can find nothing in the literature to suggest that Hecate or Hermes will help me to get good at the guitar in exchange for some supper at the crossroads. Besides, things never seem to end well for gifted musicians in the ancient world. The musical gods are prone to jealousy. Poor Marsyas, for example, was skinned alive by Apollo for presuming to play the oboe, or aulos too well. Orpheus, despite being able to make inanimate objects dance to his music, and who worshipped Apollo exclusively, was nonetheless ripped to shreds by Thracian maenads - crazed Karens in service to Dionysus, who it seems felt neglected by the gifted musician's exclusive devotion to his rival. Say what you want about the devil, he's rarely jealous of men and women, especially since we fell and were kicked out of the garden. Only of God. You can be as good as Apollo on a lyre or guitar and suffer no consequences. No immediate ones anyway. And damnation can wait. 

Dr. Faustus

So how to go about summoning the devil? Well, the 1587 work Historia Von D Johann Fausten, written by an anonymous German author, describes the character of Faust inscribing magic circles at the crossroads to summon the devil. The circles were supposed to form a protective barrier, the Crossroads being as mentioned a liminal place where beings can move between realms. The circles were to ensure entity other than the devil with whom you have an appointment, who could drag you to hell prematurely. Think of the worst place imaginable. Well, hell is worse than that. But it can wait. First, I must live a rockstar's life and dying young is fine by me. It's better to burn out and fade away. No one wants to live long enough to be over the hill, to have your best years behind you physically, intellectually, and only slow decline to look forward to. Each passing year, a little thinner on top, a little wider in the middle, unable to run as far, remember as much - 27 is a good age, when both one's physical and mental capabilities are at their peak. 

The physical decline happens faster, of course, as Byron observed: "But now at 30 years my hair is grey. A wonder what it will be like at 40. I thought of a peruke the other day (a peruke's a type of wig). My heart is not much greener, and in short, I have squandered my whole summer while 'twas May, and feel no more the spirit to retort. I have spent my life both interest and principal, and deem not what I deemed my soul invincible." So, if the the soul's not invincible, make a deal with the devil and exchange it for something more lasting, like fame perhaps. But as Byron continues, "What is the end of fame? This but to fill a certain portion of uncertain paper. Some liken it to climbing up a hill, whose summit, like all hills, is lost in vapour." What about eternal life? Well, if you ask for that, don't forget to stress that eternal youth as part of the deal. The Cumaean Sybil forgot about this, and ended up living hundreds of years getting older and older until all that was left of her was a withered bulb hanging in a jar. "And when the boys asked her, 'Sybil, what do you want?' She answered, 'I want to die'."

Christopher Marlowe's Doctor Faustus asked for 24 years of lubricity and bliss to indulge every sense, satisfy all his curiosities without recrimination. Why 24 years? Perhaps Marlowe wanted to draw a parallel with the hours of the day to suggest that the years like hours are fleeting. Because when you're young, 24 years is a long time. But time seems to pick up pace as we grow older, so it's best to give up the ghost before the final sprint towards the finish line. In the end, of course, Marlow's Dr. Faustus regrets his fate, curses his parents for having him, but then quickly takes it back and decides to curse himself instead, and Lucifer for depriving him of the joys of heaven. Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, who wrote his own version of the legend in the great closet drama, Faust, couldn't bring himself to damn his hero. Mephisto is ultimately defeated. And the angels take Faust's body and their arms and carry him up to heaven. It seems love a continual striving, in the name of love, has redeemed him. The book of John begins "In the beginning was the Word." In Faust, Goethe writes "in the beginning was the deed". No matter what bargain you strike to condemn your immortal soul, in God's eyes, you can redeem yourself by subsequent actions. I personally prefer Marlowe's ending. It's more dramatic, for one thing. Like Mozart's Don Giovanni getting dragged down to hell at the end of the opera. 

Tartini, Paganini

The influence of the Faust legend on 19th century composers was immense. Beethoven, Wagner, Mendelssohn, Berlioz, and many others wrote pieces depicting Faust as an ultimately redeemable romantic hero. But trading your soul for musical talent is more shrewd than doing so for knowledge. The devil is a great deceiver and the knowledge he grants you may be at best unreliable. But if he tunes your guitar and hands it back to you, it is easy to test there and then whether you can play it better than before? And despite afterwards, being contractually obligated to play the devil's music, you reconcile yourself to this fate, since he has all the best tunes. Giuseppe Tartini would have attested to this, who said that he dreamt the devil appeared to him and played an incomparably virtuosic tune on the violin, which Tartini tried to recall upon waking, and published the results as the devil's trill Sonata. You can imagine how it thrilled the audience to hear a composition but the devil himself, and no doubt Tartini earned a few ducats and gilders in the process. He was also among the first to cultivate both the look and reputation of one who dabbles in the dark arts. The gaunt, cadaverous look was certainly fashionable among 18th century violin virtuosos and none evinced both the look and the playing more completely than Niccolo Paganini. 

His long, thin fingers, aquiline features, his 'flashing eyes and floating her', his palor, almost vampyric, and he self-consciously cultivated the reputation of being in league with the devil. Spectators even claimed they saw a figure like Mephistopheles whispering into his ear as he played, and he played as one who was marked for damnation yet happy with the arrangement, and it caused a sensation as he toured around Europe, with onlookers blessing themselves and fainting, believing they were witnessing a supernatural talent. His influence on subsequent virtuosos of every instrument was immense, including Franz Liszt, who adopted a similar look, but hedged his bets in later life by becoming a priest. Alas, the technology didn't exist to record their performances; all we have are accounts of those who witnessed them, and of course their compositions. And modern performers give us some idea at least of what it was like to witness Paganini play the 24 caprices as if Mephisto was whispering in his ear. There's no evidence Tartini, Paganini or Liszt made a deal with the devil at the crossroads though. Perhaps they did it from the comfort of their own beds. If you want to play the blues though, it seems a trip to the Crossroads may be a prerequisite. 

Hoodoo, Voodoo

Hoodoo is a set of spiritual practices, traditions, and beliefs, which African slaves brought to North America and kept concealed from slaveholders. The origin and significance of the crossroads in hoodoo likely comes from central and west Africa, in particular, among the Yoruba people, who have a trickster deity called Eshu Elegba residing at the crossroads. And similar to the ancient Greek practice of leaving supper at a crossroad for Hecate, the Yoruba did the same for Eshu Elegba. But since the names of African deities are lost during the Trans-Atlantic slave trade, crossroad deities are unnamed and in Hoodoo. In voodoo, Papa Legba, may be cognate with Eshu Elegba ,for this is a Lwa/Loa or messenger to the spirit world. So a kind of liminal deity again, linking the West African Eshu Elegba with the spirit of the crossroads in Hoodoo, who, having lost his original name, was identified with the devil. For the slaves, conversion wasn't exactly a choice. And it's no surprise that the practices they brought over from Africa, were condemned by their Christian masters as devil worship. And once the slaves had converted en mass, they would come to regard hoodoo beliefs and customs with suspicion at best.The more ardent converts agreed with their masters in deeming them diabolical; and yet many of the customs survived well into the 20th century, post-abolition, especially in the South. And although Christianity had by then completely displaced Hoodoo and other African belief systems brought over by the slaves, one feels certain customs were held on to out of reverence for their ancestors and nostalgia for the land they were stolen from. 

Besides the Yoruba people, many other ethnic groups from the same region in Western and Central Africa were enslaved and brought to the Americas. Most, but of course not all, came from countries on the Atlantic coast, the Slave Coast as it was called. Among them, the Kongo or Bakongo people, who perhaps due to overlapping geographically, with the Yoruba, shared with them at least, a spiritual attachment to crossing pathways. In the Yowa, or Bakongo Cosmogram, we see a symbolic representation of what Crossroads only typify - a circle whose centre is the point of intersection of two perpendicular lines, the lines extending outside the circle, a little like the Zodiac symbol (and that's no accident, as we'll see), except each of the four lines are topped with a smaller circle, and there are arrows indicating the clockwise rotation: perhaps to represent the movement of the sun across the heavens, mirroring the movement of the soul between the realms of the living and the dead, in the process of reincarnation, in which the Kongo people believed. And they believed that communication between the realms of the living and the dead occur at the centre of the symbol, where the cross is. The fact numerous cosmograms have been found underneath plantation homes suggest this symbology wasn't immediately eradicated upon the slaves arrival in America. 

The art historian Robert Farris Thompson writes this, "coded as a cross, a quartered circle or diamond, a seashell spiral, or a special cross with solar emblems at each ending, the sign of the four moments of the Sun is the Kongo emblem of spiritual continuity, and renaissance par excellence. In certain rites, it is written on the earth, and the person stands upon it to take an oath or to signify that he or she understands the meaning of life, as a process shared with the dead below the river or the sea, the real sources of earthly power and prestige in Kongo thinking. The intimation, by short-hand geometric statements of mirrored worlds within the spiritual journey of the sun, is the source and illumination of some of the more important sculptural gestures, and decorative signs pertaining to funerary monuments, and objects designated for deposit on the surface of funerary tombs, or otherwise connected with funerary ceremonies, and the end of life." What stands most to me in this passage, as pertains to the topic of this podcast anyway, is the fact that in certain rites, the cosmogram or cross is drawn upon the earth and stood upon to take an oath, or to affirm one's belief in the meaning of life, as a process of moving between the connected realms of the living and the dead. Not exactly the same as what the Greeks believed about Hecate, but uncannily similar. 

Perhaps the cross is a mythic archetype people across cultures associate with threshold guardians. Interesting but hard to prove. Or perhaps, despite their many differences, what the Greeks, the Kongo and others had in common was the sky, and seeing the sun being born and dying each day, only to be born again on the next, made them see in a simple cross, an emblem not only of this process, we're in the human process of moving from birth to death. And if you're Kongo to birth again. And of course, the Greeks believed in metempsychosis, or the transmigration of souls. So given the significance of the cross among the slaves arriving from West Africa, especially, or anything that looked like a cross - two crossing roads, a bridge and a waterway, a cosmogram drawn upon the earth to take an oath upon, it wasn't the greatest leap from this to taking oaths upon Christianity's great symbol. But one feels the distinction was clear early on between swearing on the crucifix, say, and going to the Crossroads at midnight to conduct another ritual. 

The Blues

Take the blues man, Tommy Johnson: born on a plantation in Crystal Springs, Mississippi 1896, and died at the ripe old age of 60. Not bad for someone who made a deal with the devil. He was a friend of the gravelly voiced Charlie Patton, who as far as we know made no such deals. Tommy Johnson's voice had sweeter tones and a haunting yodelling falsetto, which you can hear on songs like 'Cool Drink of Water Blues', an ode to having one's thirst slaked after a long day toiling under the sun. You can almost taste it. Anyway, by the time Tommy Johnson came along, the practice of selling your soul to the devil at the Crossroads was well established, and it wasn't knowledge people wanted - for who would ask that of the devil, being the father of lies. Instead, the ritual was done to acquire facility at various manual and bodily skills, such as playing a musical instrument, throwing dice, or dancing, all skills that can be tested before an audience and which of course can prove lucrative. Tommy Johnson claimed he went to the crossroad around midnight and met a 'black man' who by this time was conflated with the devil. It seems no words are exchanged. But there is a tacit understanding of why the meeting is taking place. The black man takes the guitar and tunes it. The deal is struck once the guitar is offered back and accepted. The black man disappears, and the guitarist returns a virtuoso, destined for a short, glorious life and marked for domination. Like Paganini Before him, Tommy Johnson even cultivated a sinister persona to encourage the perception that he is the devil's business partner. As for my own assessment of his work: a fine guitarist, a better singer. I have 'Canned Heat Blues' and 'Cold Drink of Water Blues' in my playlist anyway. But if he really did strike a deal with the devil for his talent, he was shortchanged, indeed, compared with his namesake, Robert Johnson. 

Robert Johnson

In late 1948, the American record producer, music critic, and Delta Blues revivalist, John Hammond, sent a scout down to Mississippi in search of Robert Johnson, with the aim of coaxing him up to perform in Carnegie Hall, alongside other blues musicians. John Hammond had been an early champion of Johnson's, whose records were by 1937-38 most definitely doing the rounds, even in New York. And shortly after the release of his first record, 'Terraplane Blues', Hammond wrote that he was, "The greatest negro blues singer who has cropped up in recent years", and that "he makes Leadbelly sound like an accomplished poseur." Huddie Leadbetter or 'Leadbelly' was something of a celebrity at this time, his gravelly voice hearkening back to Charlie Patton. His criminal past and morbid lyricism certainly appealed to depression era men and women of across the race divide. I suppose Hammond heard in Johnson not only a better singer and guitarist but saw in his one and only publicity photo a younger more marketable prospect who, unlike Leadbelly, didn't go to jail for murder. 

Alas, the scout reported that, in fact, Johnson died several months earlier under mysterious circumstances. So in one of music history's great what ifs, instead of the 27 year old Johnson finally getting his big break in New York City, he became the first notable inductee of the 27 Club, depriving the mostly white audience of seeing for themselves why Hammond regarded him so highly, why he dominated the juke joints of the Mississippi and beyond. Why seasoned blues man like Son House and Willie Brown, who were also his rivals, were equivocal when asked to account for the speed with which he acquired his technique. But, by all accounts, he was a spectacular showman. And yet all that was left for the New York audience to appreciate in December 1938 was a spotlight on a gramophone in the middle of the stage, which played two songs, two of the 29 recordings he did in total 'Walking Blues' and 'Preaching Blues', with Hammond praising Johnson lavishly from the stage. The music historian Ted Goya noted here, "If only through the medium of recordings, Hammond used his considerable influence at this historic event, to advocate a position of preeminence for the late Delta bluesman." Several years later, the musicologist Alan Lomax himself went down to Mississippi in search of Robert Johnson to record him. It seems he also wasn't aware that he had died. But his legend was already taking shape.

Son house recounts that when Robert was young and living in Robinsonville, Mississippi, not two miles away from where Son House was residing at the time. He apparently used to hover around the musicians at a local juke joint looking for an opportunity to play. He didn't have his own guitar at a time, it seems. So he waited until Son or someone else stopped for a rest so he could practice in front of the crowd, which according to Sons didn't go down too well. In fact, his playing was so bad, people in the crowd approached Son or Willie Brown, begging them to take the guitar off the boy before he drove them mad. You can imagine the effect this feedback must have had on the aspiring musician, although by all accounts he was an excellent harmonica player. Anyway, according to Son, he disappeared for six to eight months, going off to Arkansas or somewhere. And when he showed up again, this time with his own guitar slung over his shoulder, he asked Son for another opportunity to play. The other musicians were reluctant to let him considering the fiasco of the last performance. But Robert insisted that he'd fare better this time. And besides, he wanted them to see what he'd learned. I think you can guess how the whole thing went down. And so, all of a sudden, everyone began to wonder how it is possible for someone to have acquired such a mind blowing facility with an instrument they could scarcely play before in such a short period of time. There can be no other explanation than that he went to the crossroads. 

Well, in fact, there was another explanation: having been informed by his mother about his biological father, Noah Johnson, Robert went to his birth town in Hazelhurst, Mississippi, in search of him. It was also while in Hazelhurst that he met his mentor, Ike Zimmerman, who had a reputation for being the best guitarist in Southern Mississippi. It seems Robert finally found an instructor who took the time to teach him what he knew. And part of that was practising in the graveyard at night. For there, unlike in the Duke joints back in Robinsonville, no one would complain about his bad playing. In fact, Zimmerman insisted that when he played there alone, the haints or ghosts surrounding him, would gently encourage him as he practised and improved. So they picked a large grave where they could sit facing each other. And over the course of several months, it seems Ike taught him everything he knew. And once he got his technique down, the rest was practice. And the haints, I'm sure, played their part. Once he returned to Robinsonville, and blew everyone away with his playing, and the rumours began spreading of him going to the crossroads and handing his guitar to the devil so we could learn to play the devil's music better than anyone else in town, far from squashing the rumours, Johnson, like his earlier namesake, Tommy Johnson, encouraged them, even doing so directly and unambiguously in the music itself. And this is reflected in some of his song titles: 'Me and the Devil Blues', 'Hellhound On My Trail', 'If I had possession over Judgement Day', 'Preaching Blues', mentioned earlier, with the subtitle 'Up Jumped the Devil'. And, of course, the oft-covered 'Crossroad Blues'. 

And yet, for Johnson, who may or may not have gone to the crossroads, possibly did so as a joke. And he even if he did, he may or may not have believed it had any effect upon his playing. But he knew from his community and the family members that shunned him, that he didn't have to strike a deal with the devil to damn his soul. Playing the devil's music is sufficient for that. And since he was refused access to his son by his deceased fiance's parents, because he played the devil's music, he must have been conflicted. But he knew it was that or sharecropping. And was neither money nor glory in sharecropping. So with a devil haunted soul, he accepted his lot as a vagabond and travelling blues man, hoping that, if he persisted, the right person would hear him play, as he performed on the street with his hat on the pavement; that he'd get an opportunity to record, so someone like John Hammond in New York would hear him and perhaps invite him to New York City to play before an audience in Carnegie Hall. And this was the trajectory he was on, but he died before any of it came to fruition, allegedly poisoned by the husband of one of his lovers, but this was never confirmed. The investigation didn't last long. No one was arrested. No one in the community had anything to say to the police about the matter. And the police were glad of it. Just another dead blues man - probably had too much to drink. And the black community didn't exactly push for a conviction. After all, Robert Johnson play the devil's music. 

Bob Dylan

About 23 years later, in 1961, after reading a rave review of Bob Dylan's concert in Carnegie Hall, John Hammond signed him for Columbia Records on the spot. Real name, Robert Zimmerman, of course. No relation to Ike (lol)There were certainly some other parallels in the early careers of the two Roberts. Although there is less mystery surrounding Dylan's disappearance from Greenwich Village to hone his own technique in the Midwest, stealing as many records from friends and acquaintances as he could, in order to expand his repertoire no doubt. When he returned to Greenwich Village in January 61, he was ready to be launched on the national stage. After signing him, Dylan remembers Hammond giving him the opportunity to listen to Johnson's 'The King of the Delta Blues Singers' LP prior to its release on Columbia later that year. In Chronicles, Volume One, Dylan writes "Before leaving that day, Hammond had given me a couple of records that were not yet available to the public. One was called King of the Delta Blues by Robert Johnson. I'd never heard of Robert Johnson, never heard the name, never seen it on any of the compilation blues records. Hammond said I should listen to it, that this guy could, "whip anybody". From the first note", Dylan continues, "the vibrations from the loudspeaker made my hair stand up. The stabbing sounds from the guitar could almost break a window. When Johnson started singing, he seemed like a guy who could have sprung from the head of Zeus in full armour. Over the next few weeks, I listened to it repeatedly, cut after cut, one song after another, sitting staring at the record player whenever I did, and felt like a ghost had come into the room, a fearsome apparition." 

I remember feeling the same way. The first few seconds of 'The King of the Delta Blues Singers' just features the sound of Robert Johnson's feet creaking the floorboards as he takes his place next to the microphone and starts to sing "I went to the crossroad, fell down on my knees..." But does this mean his talent was supernatural, that the credit doesn't go to him, to his own hard work and endless hours of practice? But to a bargain he made at the crossroads with the devil. Being in league with the devil is certainly more romantic. Practising alone in the graveyard, or alongside a mentor who played the instrument far better than he. And though the devil isn't God, he is immortal and very like a god compared to us, despite being damned. And just being noticed by a supernal being is enough to set you apart from the common clay. In an interview with Ed Bradley in 2004, Dylan was asked why he continues to tour so prolifically. Dylan responded mischievously, "It all goes back to the Destiny thing. I made a bargain with it a long time ago. And I'm holding up my end." Smiling wryly, Bradley asked him who he made a deal with. Dylan laughs and says "With the chief commander of this Earth and the world we can't see." Well, at 81 years old, and a Nobel Laureate (deservedly, btw), he certainly got a better deal than most...