“When we read about the parallels between the blues and religion, or how it historically served as an outlet for African American frustrations, those concepts resonate deeply with students. It makes them think about the blues in very different ways. For instance, looking at female artists from the 1920s prompts thoughts about female empowerment—the very same topic being discussed today regarding Beyoncé. There is a "blues philosophy" of life: facing things head-on to transform our emotional state.”

Scott Barretta: A Life Immersed In The Sounds of The Blues

Scott Barretta is an esteemed American sociologist, blues music scholar, researcher, and writer widely recognized for his extensive work in documenting and preserving the musical heritage of the Mississippi Delta. After growing up in Virginia and studying political sociology in the United States, he moved to Sweden in 1992 for doctoral studies at Lund University, where he began writing deeply about blues music and edited the country's premier blues magazine, Jefferson. In 1999, he relocated to Mississippi to become the editor of Living Blues, America's oldest continuously published blues periodical. Currently, he serves as an instructor at the University of Mississippi (Ole Miss), where he teaches specialized courses on the sociology and history of the blues.

(Scott Barretta / Photo by The Delta Center for Culture and Learning)

Beyond academics, Barretta has heavily shaped the public presentation of blues history as a principal researcher and writer for the Mississippi Blues Trail, authoring the text for dozens of historical roadside markers. He has also served as a head content consultant and exhibit writer for major cultural institutions, including the B.B. King Museum and the Grammy Museum Mississippi. A multifaceted media figure, he hosts the award-winning radio show Highway 61 on Mississippi Public Broadcasting, co-authored the book Mississippi: State of Blues, and co-produced the acclaimed documentary film Shake 'Em on Down about blues legend Fred McDowell. In recognition of his tireless efforts to share the cultural and social significance of the genre, he was honored with the prestigious Mississippi Governor's Arts Award for Excellence in the Arts.

Interview by Michael Limnios / Photos: © Scott Barretta Archive

Now that you are turning 61 yourself, how has teaching blues classes for 24 years influenced your understanding of the genre?

I’ve known many Mississippi musicians for over 25 years, and I think that plays a part. Many other genres are more youth-oriented, but the great thing about the blues is that you can still see your idols performing when they are in their 70s or 80s. It isn't as sad a spectacle as it sometimes is with rock or pop artists, who find it harder to stay relevant.

I turn 61 tomorrow. I wish I were back in Mississippi to celebrate my "61 on Highway 61," but right now I’m in Charlottesville, Virginia. Another important detail is that I’ve been teaching blues classes at the University of Mississippi for 24 years. It has been fascinating to observe how people come to understand the blues and its transformative, healing power.

The idea that "you play the blues to overcome sadness" is something that really needs to be communicated. Playing or listening to the blues is healing because people grapple with deep, everyday disappointments, and the music provides a way to overcome them—even if only temporarily, for that one night.

When we read about the parallels between the blues and religion, or how it historically served as an outlet for African American frustrations, those concepts resonate deeply with students. It makes them think about the blues in very different ways. For instance, looking at female artists from the 1920s prompts thoughts about female empowerment—the very same topic being discussed today regarding Beyoncé. There is a "blues philosophy" of life: facing things head-on to transform our emotional state.

Most people, including many African Americans, still hold the stereotype that the blues is simply sad music. Because they live in the same society dominated by pop culture, memes, and media stereotypes, young African Americans won't necessarily appreciate the music unless they actively engage with it. I have many African American students, and it’s always interesting to see how they react to my classes.

Many are surprised to discover the deep connections the blues shares with R&B, soul, country, and rock. So, as a teacher, what has surprised me most is observing how others interpret the blues and being able to address those misconceptions.

“I am a lecturer at the University of Mississippi, where I teach three very popular courses: Anthropology of Blues Culture, Sociology of Leisure and Popular Culture, and Sociology of Music. For a sociologist, the blues is a perfect fit, as we are always trying to address issues such as industrialization, migration, or discrimination.” (Photos: Scott Barretta / Scott Barretta with Dick Waterman)

You live in Mississippi and were involved in a major project: the Mississippi Blues Trail. Why do you think the Mississippi blues legacy continues to draw such a large and dedicated audience?

I can tell you how the Blues Trail began, because I was part of it from the very start. In two weeks, I’ll be at the Chicago Blues Festival on a panel celebrating the 20th anniversary of the Mississippi Blues Trail.

The Blues Trail was developed by the team—of which I was a member—that was creating the B.B. King Museum in Indianola. Indianola is a small town of about 10,000 residents, located three hours from Memphis and without access to a major highway. Nearby towns are also small; Clarksdale has a population of between 10,000 and 20,000, and Greenwood—where I live—is similar.

One of the ideas was: if people are going to visit this museum, how can we get them to stay longer in Mississippi? How can we make it more appealing for them to spend more time visiting the Delta?

Mississippi lies between Memphis and New Orleans—both famous for their rich musical traditions—and for years, music fans have traveled between the two cities.

Many people knew that Mississippi was associated with the blues, but they didn't necessarily realize that there was still a lot of music in the region. They weren't familiar, for instance, with Big Jack Johnson, who—as far as I know—was one of the best.

The Blues Trail grew out of a broader interest in developing blues tourism—or cultural tourism—in Mississippi, aiming to attract the many music fans traveling to the U.S. to visit Beale Street or the Stax Museum. In 2003, we began planning the B.B. King Museum, which opened in 2008. During that process, we thought: let’s try to get people to spend more time there.

The first two blues markers were prototypes. We created and installed a few markers—such as the one at the street corner where B.B. King used to stand and play gospel and blues songs on his guitar. He discovered that people would toss coins when he played the blues; he liked both genres, but he made money playing the blues.

In 2006, we applied for a federal grant to install nine markers. These markers were spread across the Delta, stretching from Clarksdale to Greenville, and then eastward through Indianola to Greenwood. Greenwood acknowledges Robert Johnson’s legacy because that is where he died. There are also markers for B.B. King in Indianola, Nelson Street in Greenville, and other key locations in Leland, Cleveland, Dockery Plantation, and Clarksdale.

Initially, we focused on towns that already had some experience with blues tourism—such as Greenville, home to the Delta Blues Festival, or Clarksdale, with the Delta Blues Museum (which had opened its library in 1979 but wasn't yet widely known). Then, in the early 2000s, the internet took off, Roger Stolle did a great job spreading the word about what was happening in the Delta, and Morgan Freeman founded the Ground Zero Blues Club.

We unveiled the first three markers in December 2006, and the State of Mississippi invited about 15 or 16 European music journalists; Tony Russell was there, as well as an acquaintance of mine from Norway. The reception was excellent. It turned out that many journalists liked the idea of visiting the graves of Charley Patton and Robert Johnson, going to Clarksdale to see live music, or visiting Dockery Farms. We received a lot of positive media attention with hardly any promotion. The first commemorative marker was placed at Charley Patton’s grave in Holly Ridge, and the governor was present, so we had strong government support.

That success and media attention led the state legislature to announce in 2007 that we would install 120 markers. We went from nine to 120! We received several grants from the National Endowment for the Humanities and federal arts agencies, as well as funding from the Mississippi Department of Transportation, since we were placing markers along the roadside. We reached an agreement where local communities would pay for half the cost of the markers, and our federal grants would cover the other half. The state of Mississippi was getting a lot of good publicity without having a huge budget for it.

Another remarkable aspect is that I began working on the trail in 2006 with Jim O’Neal and our graphic designer, Wanda Clark. The three of us have created every single marker—over 220 of them—working as the same team. If a government agency had tried to do it, there would have been endless bureaucratic meetings, and it would have been impossible to install even 10 or 15 markers a year. From an organizational standpoint, it’s a hard model to replicate, given that most government agencies experience changes in policy and personnel. We’ve been given the freedom to work, and it hasn’t been a huge expense for the government, so there’s nothing to criticize.

“The idea that "you play the blues to overcome sadness" is something that really needs to be communicated. Playing or listening to the blues is healing because people grapple with deep, everyday disappointments, and the music provides a way to overcome them—even if only temporarily, for that one night.” (Photos: Scott Barretta with Clarence‘Gatemouth’ Brown, R.L. Burnside, Bobby Rush & Lil’ Freddie King, and Jim O’Neal)

As a lecturer of sociology and anthropology, how would you describe the impact of the blues and its artists on broader sociocultural movements—including human rights, civil rights, politics, and spirituality?

I am a lecturer at the University of Mississippi, where I teach three very popular courses: Anthropology of Blues Culture, Sociology of Leisure and Popular Culture, and Sociology of Music. For a sociologist, the blues is a perfect fit, as we are always trying to address issues such as industrialization, migration, or discrimination.

When analyzing the blues, it is very difficult not to approach it from a sociological perspective. When people come to class, they expect to learn only about different musicians, but I cover topics such as the legacy of African traditions and migration. My class focuses heavily on Mississippi, and my view is that the Delta was so significant because it was a frontier zone. It was one of the last areas east of the Mississippi River to be developed; it was covered in swamps and forests. In the late 19th century, Black people migrated to the Delta from other parts of the South to build levees for water control, drain the swamps, and clear the trees. Only then could they uncover the fertile soil that was so well-suited for growing cotton.

The blues developed as all these young people moved into the area. When a group of young people gathers in one place, secular culture tends to flourish—drinking, playing music, and the like—which always benefits musicians. The Delta was a place where secular culture became very important, due to the large number of young people and the fact that society there wasn't particularly traditional. In an old, small town, people are expected to defer to priests or elders, but in a frontier-like area—such as cowboy country or major port towns—customs aren't dictated by the elders. It is music for the young. The blues flourished and gained popularity in these more secular areas, whereas Eastern Mississippi wasn't exactly known for a secular culture.

As a sociologist, I have students discuss topics like gender roles. We can see that when Ma Rainey and Bessie Smith finally gained access to recording studios or the vaudeville stage—specifically the TOBA circuit—they were able to step up and express thoughts and feelings that women couldn't voice elsewhere.

On those records, you can hear songs about same-sex relationships, where these women sang openly about being lesbian or bisexual. It’s amazing to see students’ reactions when they learn this today; they are surprised that, a hundred years ago, people were talking about these subjects—or about complaining about men and even killing their partners.

We analyze how female blues often focused on women feeling abandoned, whereas male blues tended to center on travel, since men were free to leave and do as they pleased. It’s similar to the situation in France, Mexico, or Greece. A twenty-year-old man might leave his village for Paris, Mexico City, or Athens, but a young woman wouldn't go to Athens unless her aunt was there to look after her. Men could go anywhere, so we discuss those gender roles.

We discuss politics and how Black blues artists could criticize certain situations, though they did so in a veiled manner; in Mississippi, it was impossible—especially when performing for a white audience—to openly criticize the system and exploitation. Such sentiments could only be expressed covertly.

When the blues was more overtly political—as seen with artists like Lead Belly, Josh White, or Big Bill Broonzy—their audiences in Northern cities were predominantly white leftists; that was their market. You couldn't record political songs and expect record labels to distribute them in the South; that would have been disastrous. Stores would say, "I don't sell music that criticizes racism."

For instance, Aristocrat released "Bilbo is Dead"—a song about the death of a Mississippi senator who was an avowed racist—and it likely never aired on WLAC radio. Sometimes the government censors things, but often it is the market that dictates terms: people have to worry about whether distributors or stores are willing to sell controversial products.

This dynamic played out later with rap, though the issue there was that groups like N.W.A. were already signed to major corporations rather than small labels. Later on, with the advent of soul music, the blues gained a reputation for representing old-school traditions; soul music featured much more direct political commentary from artists like James Brown or Sam Cooke, although some blues artists did adopt that approach as well.

As for religion, I discuss how it *complements* the blues—meaning it doesn't stand in opposition to it. If you’re having trouble with your girlfriend or wife, you maybe don't want to go to a priest. If you tell a priest about your mistress, he’ll say, "Well, you’re married; you can't have another woman." The blues is a way of singing about the pain in your heart and mind—about problems that religion won't necessarily cure. If you go to a priest, he tells you, "Go home, say the rosary a certain number of times, and pray."

On the other hand, if you sing the blues about your troubles or listen to an artist, you feel like you’re overcoming them—even if only for a night. The church says that if you live this life, Jesus will grant you eternal life in heaven, but heaven is a long way off. The blues is interesting because it allows you to connect with it; while it doesn't solve your problems, it makes you feel good for a night, and that’s not bad at all.

“As a sociologist, I have students discuss topics like gender roles. We can see that when Ma Rainey and Bessie Smith finally gained access to recording studios or the vaudeville stage—specifically the TOBA circuit—they were able to step up and express thoughts and feelings that women couldn't voice elsewhere.” (Photo: Scott Barretta)

You’ve met so many incredible musicians and personalities. Which encounters have been the most significant experiences for you?

I’d say the best experience I ever had was meeting Willie King; he was a huge influence on me. When I first visited Mississippi in the early '90s, what struck me most was seeing Junior Kimbrough and R.L. Burnside at Junior Kimbrough’s juke joint, or watching Big Jack Johnson play in Clarksdale, because it was proof that the music was still alive and well. It was like going to see Muddy Waters back in the '50s.

When I moved to Mississippi in 1999 being able to spend time with Willie King was perhaps the most profound experience for me; he was a blues philosopher and a civil rights advocate, as well as an incredible local musician. His idol was Howlin’ Wolf; he was a Muslim, lived out in the country, and dressed as if he had just finished a hard day’s work. He never dressed up, and neither his beard nor his hair was ever groomed. His life demonstrated that he wasn't overly concerned with appearance or chasing women.

Hearing him say things like, "God gave the blues to Black people to help them get through their troubles so they wouldn't go completely crazy," was incredible. It’s one thing to read Paul Oliver or religious scholars discussing these topics, but meeting Willie King was something else entirely. Some called him the "Bob Marley of the blues" because his music is transformative and powerful in its own right, yet when you sat down to talk with him, you were struck by his humility.

Willie spent his days visiting neighbors to see how he could help them, or championing political causes while living in rural Alabama—a place with a terrible civil rights record during the 1960s, involving police and dogs. Willie said, "God gave the blues to Black people to give them some peace, and then God let everyone else enjoy it," which I found interesting given the existing tensions. He viewed the blues as a gift that could be shared with everyone. That isn't necessarily the philosophy I adopted, but I was amazed to hear him say such things. Most blues musicians I know are just regular friends; we talk about other artists or people we know, and rarely discuss philosophical matters.

When I write articles for *Living Blues*, I try to find out what happened here in '53, '57, or '65. If you ask many artists about the meaning of the blues, some have a lot to say while others don't; not everyone is a philosopher. I was born in 1965, so by the time I started going out and seeing live music—back around 1981 or 1983—Howlin’ Wolf had already passed away, and Muddy Waters died shortly after. It’s easy to feel like you missed out, but I feel that by seeing the Burnsides, the Kimbroughs, Big Jack Johnson, and Willie King, I can catch a glimpse of the blues at its absolute best.

“When the blues was more overtly political—as seen with artists like Lead Belly, Josh White, or Big Bill Broonzy—their audiences in Northern cities were predominantly white leftists; that was their market. You couldn't record political songs and expect record labels to distribute them in the South; that would have been disastrous.” (Scott Barretta / Photos by The Delta Center for Culture and Learning)

Given these changes, what are your hopes and fears for the future of the blues?

If there are more gigs, more musicians will say, "Well, now I’m going to play the blues instead of Motown classics or gospel." Many Black musicians from Mississippi—like Mr. Sipp or various artists from Jackson—have one foot in Southern soul and the other in more traditional blues. Keith Johnson is like that, too.

Since there are more opportunities for blues, they play it alongside other genres. There are so many excellent Black musicians who play gospel, and if they get the chance to play the blues, they won't find it hard to adapt. They probably won't sound like those Aristocrat or Cobra Records singless—the 1950s music we love so much—but rather like Albert King, B.B. King, or other well-known artists. But they can learn a lot just by using YouTube. YouTube is the main way young people discover music these days, so social media and YouTube are incredibly important. If you search for something you like on YouTube, a suggestion pops up on the right—something like, "Someone just uploaded this 1976 John Lee Hooker concert from Belgium"—so you can discover a lot that way.

When I interviewed Mr. Sipp, he was a gospel star who had grown a bit tired of the genre. He found out the Blues Foundation was holding a regional blues contest in Vicksburg the following week, so he wrote five blues songs and won. What he told me was truly fascinating. I asked him how he’d done it, and he said he’d been a fan of B.B. King since he was a kid. Any 50-year-old African American from Mississippi knows Johnnie Taylor, Little Milton, Bobby "Blue" Bland, and Denise LaSalle—they’re constantly on the radio—or the younger Southern soul artists. He recorded for Malaco Records as a gospel artist, so it wasn't a huge leap, since he was already writing gospel songs. You might have heard blues artists say that blues and gospel are the same thing—you just swap Jesus for "baby."

But what Mr. Sipp said was: "When you're in church, if you don't get people on their feet, you've failed. You don't last as a church musician if you can't get everyone to stand up and clap." He said he applied the same approach to the blues: making eye contact with everyone, wearing suits to perform, and putting on a show. Many white blues bands look like guys who just got together in basements or garages wearing everyday clothes, which shows a lack of professionalism and showmanship.

It has been exciting to see Keith Johnson—Muddy Waters’ grand-nephew—in Mississippi. He started out as a gospel musician before turning to the blues. At first, he played "Got My Mojo Working"—you know, "everything's gonna be alright this morning"—and "Mannish Boy." Of course, if you’re going to play Muddy Waters songs, those are the ones you’d choose. But he eventually moved beyond being a mere Muddy Waters imitator, developing his own songs and delving deeper into religious themes. Keith appearing on magazine covers matters because it means he can play the King Biscuit Time Festival or the Chicago Blues Festival, or go on a blues cruise and connect with people.

Plus, he has a real entrepreneurial spirit.

I have great faith that the blues will endure, though the aging of the traditional blues audience remains an issue. The people who attend Blues Foundation events or established festivals are now over seventy. That older white demographic—the die-hard fans—is fading away, so we have to consider what will take its place. For years, the blues simply wasn't "cool" to young people—it wasn't something they wanted to engage with—but I’m hopeful that, with some of these young artists, that’s changing. They aren't going to become pop stars, but the way people discover music is vastly different now.

When we were young, you had to go to a store and search the blues section. With any luck—even in Greece—you could find records from England on labels like Charly or Flyright; today, however, it’s exciting to see how people are connecting with younger artists.

There is a new generation of artists—like Jontavious Willis, Christone "Kingfish" Ingram, Rell Davenport, and D.K. Harrell—who are in their twenties and phenomenally talented; they are really breathing new life into the scene. They grew up in the social media era, so they follow and communicate with each other regularly—which is very different from the 90s. Marquise Knox is a bit older, around 40, but that’s what gives me hope. I miss not being able to see Big Jack Johnson playing at Red’s Lounge, but I still see a lot of really exciting things.

(Photo: Scott Barretta)