Horror's Bluesman

How my horror novel has become synonymous with hill country blues.

With the success of Gone to See the River Man, many readers have reached out to ask me more about blues music, particularly Delta blues and music rooted in Mississippi hill country traditions. Part of this is because the titular River Man is himself a blues musician on top of being a specter of cosmic horror, and another part of it is that I’m hardly shy about expressing my deep love of this brand of music. Without this obsession, my most popular novel never would have come to be—at least, not in its current form.

Not only does Gone to See the River Man feature the character of a bluesman, but it is also steeped in the very nature of the blues itself, honing in on the dark legends that surround the genre, be they the story of Robert Johnson going to the crossroads to sell his soul to Satan in exchange for being a master guitarist, the story of Huddie William Ledbetter earning the nickname of Lead Belly after surviving stab wounds to the chest (while he was in prison for murder), or the eerie true crime tale of Pat Hare recording a song called “I’m Gonna Murder My Baby,” and then doing exactly that.

Much of blues music (as well as ragtime and jazz) has its roots in “Negro Spirituals”, as they were called. These are the songs slaves would sing on plantations, the rhythms and melodies of Africa carrying over to America. This music became gospel songs in the 1800s as a result of the efforts to convert the then slaves to Christianity. It’s worth noting that the lyrics to these slave spirituals often reference the language of the Old Testament, with a focus on liberation from being bound.

Even long after the Emancipation proclamation, African-Americans suffered greatly, particularly in the rural south, with arguably the worst location of all being Mississippi, where the Klan was at the height of its power and lynchings were abundant. While songs were made about these horrors, such as Billie Holiday’s harrowing “Strange Fruit”, the lyrics of most blues songs were inspired by other general miseries suffered by blacks, including poverty, prejudice, and just plain old heartbreak, for like any other form of music, songs about love permeate the blues. Perhaps because of that, many of the songs are also upbeat instead of filled with despair, putting focus on new love, good times, and sunnier days ahead.

And there are many, many songs about sex.

Most of these were sang in code to avoid censors, such as Muddy Waters’ “Tom Cat”, “If It Don’t Fit (Don’t Force It)” by Barrel House Annie, “Banana In Your Fruit Basket” by Bo Carter, or Junior Kimbrough’s “Work Me, Baby”, but certainly not in the case of the bawdy Lucille Bogan, who daringly gave us the ultra-filthy “Shake ‘Em Dry II” and “Til’ the Cows Come Home.”

But another mood of the blues is one of horror… even supernatural horror.

Songs about the Devil, like the aforementioned Robert Johnsons’ “Me and the Devil” and Skip James’ “Devil Got My Woman.” Murder ballads like Bessie Smith’s “Send Me to the ’Lectric Chair” or the blues standard “Stagolee.” And countless songs about death and the reaper, including “Death Don’t Have No Mercy” by Rev. Gary Davis or Son House’s “Death Letter Blues.”

My love of the blues began at a young age. I recall getting B.B King and Howlin’ Wolf cassette tapes in my preteens and falling in love with them. The incredible guitars; the infectious rhythms; the haunting bellows and gravely groans. Most kids didn’t listen to old blues legends in the 1990s, just as most of them don’t listen to their grandparents’ music now, but something about the blues drew me in.

Perhaps I related to it because I grew up in the south. Perhaps I related to it because I’m bipolar and have suffered with “feeling blue” to great extremes all my life. Or perhaps I just knew great fucking music when I heard it. Hell, probably all three, right?

As I got older, my heart was given to heavy metal, but I still carried an appreciation for blues and ragtime and listened to them often (and besides, heavy metal is the child of rock ’n roll, and rock ’n roll is the child of the blues). Over my lifetime, the blues became a more prominent force in my soul, and now, in my aching forties, this brand of music has become my favorite, with particular focus on Delta blues, which differs from Chicago style or other types. There is something about this kind of blues that haunts me, perhaps because much of it echoes with the old ghosts of true suffering. But there’s also the hypnotic nature of the melodies and the downright primal nature of the rhythms that fill my head with spooky imagery and rattle me to my core.

An obsession with the music of Junior Kimbrough was instrumental in the birth of Gone to See the River Man. In my mind, his songs are synonymous with the novel. I can’t think of one without the other. Of course, there are many other artists and songs that I associate with the book (and I even made a playlist for those interested), but Kimbrough’s work was particularly influential. With the exception of his chilling “You Better Run”, about a woman fleeing an armed rapist, most of Kimbrough’s songs don’t delve into horror, but it’s the music itself that I find hauntingly ethereal. It puts me into a trance-like state where dark, nefarious images are fed to me by the invisible muse all writers feed from.

There are other blues artists from the same region who have this same effect on me.

Jimmy “Duck” Holmes not only makes hill country blues as incredible and haunting as Kimbrough’s, but he also regularly delves into dark lyrics, with songs like “Evil” and “It Had to be The Devil.” His album “Cypress Grove”, is one of my absolute favorite records. It’s not the type of music you just put on in the background while you fart around and talk with friends. It’s music to listen to intently with the lights down low. I would argue there’s no other choice. Put on the track “Goin’ Away Baby” to see what I mean.

R.L Burnside and Robert Belfour are two others who similarly manage to rope me in by my very soul, but that’s not to say they’re alone. With Gone to See the River Man, I tried to recapture through storytelling what all these bluesmen (and women, like Koko Taylor) make me feel.

And people notice.

As I said, folks turn to me after reading the novel, fascinated by its folklore, and ask where they should begin their journey into the blues. Even when I was doing an interview in Germany, a member of the audience brought it up. While one could start chronologically, or start with the greats, I think a better route initially is to just dive right in. With that in mind, I offer you another playlist I put together called “Lowdown Dirty Blues”, which is less of a playlist and more like a radio station, given its huge and ever-growing track list. Just throw this baby on (or on shuffle) and let the blues take you somewhere as special (and perhaps as chilling) as it has taken me.

I’m currently working on another novel inspired by southern blues and old country songs, which is actually not much like Gone to See the River Man (I actually think fans of Full Brutal will appreciate this one most), which just goes to show how wide the range is of both the music and the blues-soaked mind of the horror writer it inspires.

I couldn’t be prouder to have become known as Horror’s Bluesman, as one fan kindly dubbed me, and I can assure you I have many more books coming that will underline that. Stayed tuned for a big announcement this summer, one I know my loyal readers have been yearning for.

Until then, keep reading, and try to enjoy the blues rather than just have them.

Your pal,

Kris