JOHNNY WINTER
He comes on stage, guitar slung low, all in black — ready to rip off some of the meanest, most aggressive, music imaginable. It’s blues, it’s rock, it hardly matters. The proportions of the man aren’t measured categorically. The past must’ve been intense, it must’ve have seared him .... a freak when that wasn’t stylish, when that was horrifying.
JOHNNY WINTER
He comes on stage, guitar slung low, all in black — ready to rip off some of the meanest, most aggressive, music imaginable. It’s blues, it’s rock, it hardly matters. The proportions of the man aren’t measured categorically. The past must’ve been intense, it must’ve have seared him .... a freak when that wasn’t stylish, when that was horrifying. And in the south.
He was born there, in Beaumont Texas. Febuary 23, 1944. A Pisces. Frequent zodiacal place of habitation of freaks of one sort or another. Later that year, the war coming to an end, his father moved the family to a cotton plantation in Leland, Mississippi. The irony is obvious, especially to Johnny. It’s been the source of some criticism; the plantation owner’s son, an albino at that, growing up digging the blackest music there was. But he can still laugh about it. “Daddy didn’t make it in Leland, though, so he gave up and we moved back to Beaumont, where Mom’s family lived. Dad’s a realtor now and still sings.