Robert Johnson died at just 27 years old, some say as a consequence of selling his soul to the devil at a crossroads. But before his time came, he managed to record 29 songs, a scant body of work that nevertheless secured his artistic immortality as one of the most influential blues musicians of all time. It’s unfortunate that his recordings, all of them made between 1936 and 1937 in less-than-ideal studio conditions even for the time, leave something to be desired in the audio quality department. But now, some 90 years later, sound restorer Nick Dellow has been uploading relatively crisp digitized “test pressings” of Johnson’s songs to YouTube: last month, for example, we featured one of “Cross Road Blues” here on Open Culture.
In the video above, you’ll find a similarly higher-quality version of “Come On in My Kitchen,” a song acknowledged as an early demonstration of the young Johnson’s otherworldly musical power. You may notice that the title labels this particular recording as “take one.” Johnson also recorded a much different second take, which his label Vocalion Records released in 1937, possibly because it sounded less mournful and thus — according to record-industry logic — more viable as a hit.
Though take one now seems to be regarded as the “true” rendition of the song by his serious enthusiasts, the public didn’t get to hear it until 1961, when it was included on the compilation King of the Delta Blues Singers that did more than any other release to win Johnson his posthumous fan base.
It is, admittedly, not easy to imagine the first take of “Come On in My Kitchen” sweeping the dance halls, even with this sound quality much improved from the version on King of the Delta Blues Singers. But the reasons Johnson’s music has endured so long have less to do with his ability to get a crowd moving than with his combination of understated virtuosity and preternatural-sounding ability to reach into genuinely haunting emotional realms. Like many canonical singer-songwriters who died young, he seems always to be and remain somehow older than us, his listeners, even as we reach (and indeed pass) middle age. Occasionally, the release of never-before-heard recordings or pressings reveals the true edge of immaturity in such figures; with Johnson, it only deepens his legend.
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Based in Seoul, Colin Marshall writes and broadcasts on cities, language, and culture. He’s the author of the newsletter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Summarizing Korea) and Korean Newtro. Follow him on the social network formerly known as Twitter at @colinmarshall.
