Godless Gospel

Racial Suffering and the Birth of the Blues

Godless Gospel

K.L. Orion

It was the day after the events described in my last Substack post (which you can read here: Congo Square) when we visited another very significant location for music. We were making our way down the winding Northern Mississippi roads playing a Robert Johnson CD. For those of you unaware of who Robert Johnson was, he was a blues guitarist, singer, and songwriter from the Mississippi Delta region. Born in 1911 to a poor African American family, he died at the young age of 27. But in his short time on this Earth, he made a profound impact that eventually became the stuff of legend. 

The story goes that Robert wasn’t a very good guitarist when he first started out. He got so frustrated that he eventually disappeared for months then reappeared as a guitar virtuoso. No one knows what he did during those months away, but myths claim he went to a crossroads to make a deal with the devil himself to get incredible guitar playing skills. Yes, he sold his soul to the Prince of Darkness, King of the Demons, the angel banished to hell itself for rebelling against God, the embodiment of evil Satan himself to get epic strumming powers (allegedly). Man literally signed his life AND afterlife away to an eternity of suffering just so he could impress chicks with his above average abilities in playing an oversized ukulele. 

The devil story clearly is problematic for a multitude of reasons. For one thing, I simply refuse to believe in a devil. That’s for a lot of different reasons which I will not dive into, as they could be made into a Substack post by themselves. But because of that reason, I cannot bring myself to actually believe in the devil tale. More logically speaking, why would someone sell their soul to the devil just so they can play some mean guitar? I mean, sure, music is a really important part of life. If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t be writing this Substack, nor last week’s. But are you willing to give into an eternity of the worst torture imaginable just so you can play some cool chords? If I were to sell my soul to the devil, I’d want some forbidden power or knowledge. The ability to play Guitar Hero like a god would be towards the bottom of the list for me. (I say that as if I did NOT take Music Theory I, where there were multiple times I considered selling my soul to ANYTHING to pass the next test, be it deity or demon.) 

Also, why would you disappear for MONTHS to go down to ONE crossroads to make a SINGLE DEAL with the devil? I’m definitely no expert in demonic dealings, but I don’t think it takes months to make one deal with the devil (deals with the real devils of this world, insanely rich people, are an entirely different story). I also don’t know if he had to research a ritual or if travel took a really long time, but months? Really? Finally, Johnson’s contributions to music afterwards was and is immense. To credit his talents and hard work to the devil seems very wrong to me. 

If you had to ask me, as much as I like telling the deal with the devil myth, I’d say Johnson disappeared to practice like hell (pun very intentional). Sure, maybe in his practice he got frustrated and went to sell his soul, but is that exactly realistic? I don’t think so. Whatever he did, he came back home with crazy guitar playing capabilities. He impressed people across the Mississippi Delta, got a few recordings that you can still listen to, then things got freaky. He died at age 27, but that’s not the end. For one thing, he became crazy popular after his death (all the best artists seem to suffer that fate). But the freaky part is the fact that he started the 27 Club. For those of you unfamiliar with the 27 Club, it consists of musical artists and celebrities who died at 27. Think people like Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, and Kurt Cobain to name a few. It’s this part of the story where I might start hearing you out on this devil nonsense. 

I bring up his story because it was that night we stopped at that crossroads of legend. It was an extremely brief stop, but very fascinating nonetheless. This place was (supposedly) the place where Robert Johnson made that infamous deal with Satan himself. The place where a single decision might have started the 27 Club. This was yet another place where a bunch of genres of music could trace their origins back to. 

This visit to the famed crossroads kind of reaffirmed an idea I got earlier that trip. Blues is a godless gospel, which isn’t exactly a revolutionary revelation. But it gives light to a depressing yet fascinating issue within the African American community at the time. 

Robert Johnson was by far NOT the first blues musician. Many blues musicians came before him just in his area alone. Southern African Americans traditionally have been extremely religious people, and it was some of those religious people who became the first enemies of blues. Blues wasn’t inherently Satanic. Actually, by today’s standards, most of it seems extremely mellow. It also wasn’t always sad. But it usually was sad and expressed depressed ideas. Unlike the once hopeful prayers present in spirituals and later gospel, blues was often hopeless. And sometimes, blues would be raunchy and contain strong themes. 

Robert Johnson didn’t get the devil association out of nowhere. His songs often contained Satanic references or themes. No, as far as I am aware, there were no hidden cult undertones or “if you play it backwards, it contains a secret message” things going on. It was just songs talking about sin or suffering using the devil and other hellish things as metaphors for those concepts. Songs like Cross Road Blues, Hellhound On My Trail, Preachin’ Blues (Up Jumped the Devil)... you get the idea. 

However, there is one song that is impossible to ignore when looking at this theme. A song by the very direct title of Me and the Devil Blues. This song alone is probably the main reason behind the devil myth. When I first heard this song, it actually surprised me how “mellow” it sounded to me initially. I live in the age of death metal, rap, and actually Satanic music. You know, songs that drop slurs every other word to get you with that shock factor. I expected a supposedly Satanic song written by a guy who supposedly made a deal with Satan himself to, well, go harder. But upon a later listen, I actually believe its simplistic yet poetic and depressing lyrics hit harder than most of your raunchy music nowadays. Here’s the lyrics from Musixmatch and a link to a recording of Johnson himself on YouTube: 

Early this morning

When you knocked upon my door

Early this morning ooh

When you knocked upon my door

And I said, "Hello Satan"

"I believe it's time to go"

Me and the Devil

Was walkin' side by side

Me and the Devil, ooh

Was walkin' side by side

And I'm going to beat my woman

Until I get satisfied

She said you don't see why

That I would dog her 'round

Now baby, you know you ain't doin' me right don't ya?

She say, "You don't see why", ooh

That I would dog her 'round

It must-a be that old evil spirit

So deep down in the ground

You may bury my body

Down by the highway side

Baby, I don't care where you bury my body when I'm dead and gone

You may bury my body, ooh

Down by the highway side

So my old evil spirit

Can get a Greyhound bus and ride

I think blues stem from a difficult truth African Americans were dealing with at the time. Not that long ago, they were held in slavery. Their ancestors prayed and prayed to God to be set free. Finally, they were. All should be good, right? No. Now a new kind of suffering began. They still were discriminated against. Most were impoverished. Many were illiterate. They got crap jobs often full of physical labor. Law enforcement abused them. They still were getting beaten. Their physical chains were gone, but the social ones were still there. They were still suffering. 

This reminds me of the Isrealites being led through the wilderness after leaving slavery in Egypt. Many began to lose faith in God, thinking their bondage in Egypt was better than the fate they faced now. I wonder if some of that same sentiment existed in the African American community of this time. 

I used Robert Johnson as an example of a blues musician “turning away from God” since he has probably the most famous association with the devil of any artist. But it wasn’t one of his songs that made me think about this interesting shift from unquestioned belief in God to lost hope in God. Actually, it was a song by Memphis Minnie and Kansas Joe McCoy. If you’ve never heard of those two, I wouldn’t be surprised. I only learned about them through Led Zeppelin. The song was When The Levee Breaks, referencing the Great Mississippi Flood of 1927 that killed and displaced countless impoverished African Americans. 

I heard the song many times before, but it was through a recent listen that I noticed one of the lyrics. “Cryin’ won’t help you, prayin’ won’t do no good.” In modern music, this line wouldn’t be the most blasphemous thing you’ve ever heard. It wouldn’t even make the list. But when you think about it, this line is a powerful statement. Sure, all your “devil music” using Satan to express sadness and sin can be used to show this lost faith in a God who was once the only hope for a race of people, but this line alone discredits God. It can mean either one of two things. One, God doesn’t have enough power to save you from the flood. Or two, God won’t listen to your prayers to save you from suffering. God doesn’t care. 

I think that speaks volumes about the situation African Americans found themselves in at that point in history, and maybe even still today.