Clarksdale was just meant to be an overnight stop on route to New Orleans. Our friend Sam from London recommended the stop. It’s a really small place but loads of blues and soul singers have come from there and as Sam puts it– “it’s right on the famous crossroads where Robert Johnson sold his soul to the Devil himself for guitar chops. I tried but got laughed out of town, turns out there’s a limit to what he can do.”

Sam recommended we stay at this ultra cool place called the Shack-Up Inn where people stay the night and gather in the bar area to play some Blues. Upon arrival, Tim and I instantly fell in love with the place. Our pics don’t do it justice so please visit Shack Up Inn (cover photo credit: Austin Britt). The place developed organically as it’s really just a collection of junk and eclectic antiques serving as your essential amenities and barns and grain silos serving as the roof over your head. The place was so cool we immediately booked in to stay another night.

The evening got even cooler. We headed to downtown Clarksdale to listen to some blues. A guy they call $5 Barry took us to Ground Zero Blues Club which is co-owned by Morgan Freeman. Ground Zero is all graffiti and seems to be a popular destination for out of towners and locals alike. We heard a great band there and as we were listening, a local old boy that goes by the name Josh “Razorblad” Stewart saw an easy target and made a beeline for me. He claimed to be one of the original Delta Blues boys. Alas, after protesting his $20 price tag, he sold me his CD for $10 and I feel like I own a little part of history there.

The evening progressed and we ended up at Hambone to watch some of the amateurs practicing their chops. Of special note here, is the fact that I realized I should be starting another blog titled- “the places I try to get a glass of wine in the South.” For it was at this venue where I requested a glass of just “red” (knowing there wouldn’t be a wine list) and was served a red looking liquid squeezed from what looked like a hospital IV drip bag. The bartender looked at us as he squeezed the bag and said, “Don’t tell anyone you saw me do this.” Tim’s reply was, “I’m more concerned I can see you doing it!” Suffice to say, the wine sucked but the Blues were great. By the way, I’ve decided I’m going to learn to play the harmonica as it’s become my favorite instrument.

The next evening, we gave $5 Barry another call to take us into town to hit up Red’s, a popular Juke Joint in town (the place, like all of these Blues Clubs in downtown Clarksdale looks from the outside as if the buildings are condemned and probably should be if in fact they’re not). $5 Barry was coming in handy as there was a big police blitz in Clarksdale titled “click it or ticket” which was really just an excuse to pull people resulting in a few bands refusing to play that evening. Anyway, onto Red’s. We listened to a band called “Howlin’ Wolf” and you could see why they were popular especially amongst the locals. After Red’s we hit up the New Roxy and let me tell you, it was anything but new. Basically it was an old cinema which had a collapsed roof but has been resurrected into a killer Blues venue.

The next morning we made a quick coffee stop which turned into more of an hour long coffee stop as the owner of Yazoo in Clarksdale, Bubba, took fancy to the Trans Am and bought a TART T-shirt to represent.

Now, onto New Orleans, let’s see if it has half the character and characters as Clarksdale, Mississippi.

Dione, May 23rd, 2015