I saw this talented man perform with his band so many times I stopped counting during the time I lived in a small isolated college town near the Canadian border, for a four dollar cover charge at one of the coolest intimate bars that ever existed. Playing the blues is a lot harder than it seems, and that's the point, it shouldn't be hard to express how freaking hard life is. Be careful you don't sound like a parody of your own emotions. I think anybody can sing and play the blues, I mean sure, go ahead, try. James Cotton is why I love the blues, the real blues. ![]() Maybe because I was always experiencing his performances in a bar and looking right at him just a few feet in front of me, I was never watching a performance, I was hanging out with James Cotton, suspended someplace outside of time, suspended someplace inside my head. ![]() Life was a pain in the ass, no it was agony, have another beer, this is all perfectly normal. When his band came to town, he'd walk into my youth drama already in progress, whatever it was that week, and remind me that no matter what was going on it was all very ordinary in the scheme of things. I remember the way James Cotton made me feel when he performed.
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