Singing At Blind Blake's Grave [VIDEO]

Blind Blake is my favorite guitarist. He makes the strings dance. The hokum rag. The blues jive. There’s almost nothing (of any significance) known (or remembered) about Blake. From where I’m sitting, he’s better than Blind Lemon Jefferson, Robert Johnson, and Tampa Red – combined. There’s only one photo of Blind Blake.

His first records were cut in 1926, his last in 1932 (and that’s debatable). He was one of the first stars of the blues, one of Paramount Records biggest selling artists. He recorded 80 tunes (or so) for them. Close your eyes and imagine what ragtime piano would sound like played on the guitar: that’s Blind Blake.

He may have been born in Florida, maybe Georgia, possibly Virginia. Might have happened in 1896. May not have. May have married a sweet lovin’ gal named Beatrice in 1931. May not have.

So that’s his life. But what about his death? The good Reverend Gary Davis said Blake was hit by a streetcar in Milwaukee. Big Bill Broonzy told a tale of Blake being so drunk (and fat) that when he fell on a slippery sidewalk during a Chicago blizzard he simply couldn’t stand back up – and froze to death.

None of that is true. Blake lived in the Brewer’s Hill neighborhood of Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Why’s it called Brewer’s Hill? You can thank Schlitz and Blatz (and several other breweries). Hank Aaron lived in Brewer’s Hill. So did most of the blues greats that recorded for Paramount at their Grafton, Wisconsin headquarters.

Blind Blake died in 1934 but you can still go visit and hang out with him today. Funny how that works, isn’t it? My wife Kitty and I did. You can find Blake hanging out at the Glen Oaks Cemetery. There’s a cheap old guitar that looms over his grave, casting dark shadows in the cold Wisconsin winters. Oh, and there’s a hat for tips, so bring a few bucks. We did. Didn’t want the Ghost of Blind Blake to haunt me for being a stingy bastard.

This video is in honor of Blind Blake, whoever you are, cutting through the madness of this thing called life, leaving a legacy of tunes in your wake. May we all be so lucky.