A Happy Night Out

CW Stoneking makes me believe in collective reincarnation. There can be no doubt that within his skinny white body resides the souls of the founding fathers of back porch blues. Close your eyes while he is performing on stage, and you can smell the alleys and side streets of New Orleans, feel Mississippi mud ooze between your toes, and taste fried catfish and collard greens.

When I first heard him, he and his primitive horn orchestra were live in the studios of Triple J radio. The deep and gravely voice that stammered and stuttered through the interview did not prepare me for what a marvellous showman he would be live on stage. He introduced each song with a short story punctuated with charm and humor (or, if you prefer, humour). The stories became increasingly outrageous as he progressed through his set, beginning with a believable yarn about the first blues song he heard on one of his daddy’s cassettes to a tall tale about arriving on the shores of Africa in a life raft, having used his banjo to paddle across the Atlantic. I couldn’t help but wonder if he invented the stories first, and then penned a song to fit.

We stuck around after the show to get autographs. I fully expected him to just shuffle through the line of people waiting, but he had a protracted conversation with each of his fans, and he was just as amusing and charming as he was on-stage. He and his wife were also married in Reno. He loves San Francisco. He was Cleopatra in a previous life.