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I'd Rather Be the Devil: Skip James and the Blues by Stephen Calt (10-Sep-2008) Paperback
This probing study uncovers much of the life and personality of one of the most talented, but disturbed, of bluesmen, Skip James. In documenting the singer's decline during the period of his greatest exposure, Stephen Calt challenges the values of blues enthusiasts and calls into question widely accepted beliefs about the blues genre, its history and its exponents.
- GenresMusicBiographyNonfiction
Unknown Binding
First published June 26, 2000
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Displaying 1 - 26 of 26 reviews
February 9, 2012
I couldn't finish this one, even though i like skip james's music a lot. The mixture of Calt's academic mean-spiritedness meeting the mean-spirtedness of an egotistical artist is a deadly tonic. mean-spirited is definitely the word for the book. and Calt is to blame for it. Although Skip might be a little self-obsessed, and probably would make for bad company, at least he made the music. Calt has nothing to show for himself except for his consistent meanness. Highly unrecommended.
August 8, 2012
Pungent, unsentimental and (presumably) definitive. Calt clearly has a massive ax to grind, but the quality of his analysis and the depth of his knowledge more than justify the occasional chippy attack on other blues-bods. Anyone wanting to balance the dyspepsia of this one should read the more measured and scholarly 'Escaping the Delta', but this is the mortal humus from which the blues, and ultimately Rock and Roll, were cultivated.
November 6, 2013
I have mixed feelings about this book. I love Skip James' music and this book provides a lot of history and information, but it all gets soiled and tainty by the writer's blatant bitterness. Truly sad that even the best intentioned white boys ended up being colonial exploiters of blues talents and that blues artists weren't doing it all purely for art's or god's sake, but at the end of the day Skip James left behind some of the most mind blowing recorded sounds within "popular" music.
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December 18, 2011I just finished this book and I'm unsure as to whether this is a biography or a character assassination. I applaud the author for not crafting yet another blues hagiography, but did he have to malign his subject so? I don't think so.
Seems like much of the cruelty the author accuses James of having lives inside of him.
Seems like much of the cruelty the author accuses James of having lives inside of him.
August 15, 2020
Fascinating, if unflattering narrative on the life of Skip James, but also other blues performers of the early part of the century, their comeback in the 60s as white audiences discovered their love for the blues and their impact on the history and culture of American and also global music.
The author met with and befriended Skip James and was intimately involved with the Blues revival of the sixties. He reveals that many of these musicians led extremely rough, even lawless lives. Their relationships with white people throughout the South was far more complex than how it is often portrayed in today's media.
The author also showed how the Blues Revival of the sixties wasn't necessarily profitable for these blues musicians. Many of the managers and record companies took advantage of them, making money for themselves, but not the blues musicians themselves.
I'd Rather be the Devil, not only provides a historical chronology, but delves into the rich, old culture of the South and Southern black people, combining their religious beliefs, intertwined with superstitions that preceded the introduction to Christianity and the hard determined grit the was necessary for survival in those pre-civil rights days.
The author met with and befriended Skip James and was intimately involved with the Blues revival of the sixties. He reveals that many of these musicians led extremely rough, even lawless lives. Their relationships with white people throughout the South was far more complex than how it is often portrayed in today's media.
The author also showed how the Blues Revival of the sixties wasn't necessarily profitable for these blues musicians. Many of the managers and record companies took advantage of them, making money for themselves, but not the blues musicians themselves.
I'd Rather be the Devil, not only provides a historical chronology, but delves into the rich, old culture of the South and Southern black people, combining their religious beliefs, intertwined with superstitions that preceded the introduction to Christianity and the hard determined grit the was necessary for survival in those pre-civil rights days.
November 18, 2022
Besides being most likely the definitive biography of one of the most contradictory, idiosyncratic, somewhat criminal, tight-lipped, frustrating and down-right secretive of the re-discovered blues singers of the 1920's and 30's who was rediscovered in the 1960's, this biography of Skip James is also extremely valuable for its skeptical and cynical look at such cliches as the "country blues (the author argues there isn't much difference between rural and urban blues of the 1920's and 30's)," "regional blues (apparently at that time the railroad and the travel it allowed made for minimal differences in blues styles and that regional differences occurred once the railroad era was over)," "delta blues (another meaningless distinction)," and "folk-revival (there was no previous interest in folk music to later revive)." He also offers a scathing critique that many so-called ethno-musicologists, blues experts, record collectors, liner-note writers and critics were just as blinkered and exploitive as the grabbing record-company "race record" conveyors of the past. An eye-opening look at the blues. - BH.
September 13, 2020
This is a strange book. After meeting Skip James in the '60s, Calt, a fan of the music James recorded in the early '30s, gradually grows to dislike him as he endeavors to tell his story. Not your typical music biography. Worth reading if you're a fan of James and early country blues in general.
October 11, 2015
Good account of the life (the parts that he revealed) of Skip James and blues in general. It did, however, chronicle the singer's darker past, as a gambler, bootlegger, (alleged) murderer and pimp. As others have commented, towards the end of the book there is a descent into bitterness towards James' and other bluesmen's declining powers over time, a decline which is understandable given the circumstances of their lives and a break from performing that lasted for decades. This aside, it throws some light on an artist that I like, although I'm not sure if I would have liked Skip James the man. Still.
May 24, 2008
Easily the best book on the subject of country blues I've ever read. Calt doesn't go in for the romantic, and as such, no one comes out unscathed, not James and certainly not the white opportunistic collectors behind the "re-birth of the blues," John Fahey included.
December 11, 2014
Fascinating, definitive, caustic, scathing - these are just a few of the many adjectives that come to mind about this book.
On the one hand this is a fascinating portrait of, to my mind, the best blues performer of all time - Skip James. This book is full of interesting facts such as the background behind the legendary 1931 Vanguard sessions, some of James' influences such as Stuckey, and at the same time the homicidal tendencies of Skip James himself. Not only did he fantasize about gunning his ex-girlfriend down but as Calt relates, in his younger years, James was not afraid to pull his gun on someone. In one particular incident James killed an innumerable number of people at one of his local hoedowns, where he was secretly operating as a bootlegger as well.
On the other hand, this is a merciless assault by the obviously bitter and caustic Stephen Calt. Calt not only rips into James about how his born-again religiosity destroyed his musical ability, he totally discredits almost everything Skip tried to play or record post-1931. Which is weird. Go on youtube and listen to Hard Times Killing Floor Blues - both the 1931 version and the version recorded in the 1960s. Both are great in my opinion but the latter one is superior (obviously) in terms of sound quality, making it much more listenable but according to Calt, no, it's no good. Even Skip's slower version of I'm So Glad (which Cream later turned into a hit) was a flop according to Calt because it wasn't fast enough.
There are so many jaw-dropping stories in here, for example, his recording company in the 1960s made him do a recording even when he was in excruciating pain waiting for surgery, there was a possible connection between Skip James and Robert Johnson, either directly or indirectly, and finally, and most incredulously, Skip offered to name Stephen Calt (who was a young fawning fan of James' at the time - yet to turn into scathing critic) the benefactor of his will when he died.
There are so many stories in here which make this biography truly fascinating. But a word to the wise - take Calt's devastating critique with a truckload of salt. There is heaps of conjecture and bitterness in here, which sadly prevents this book from being a complete classic. Still worth the read. Highly recommended for blues enthusiasts. Thanks to Jeff for giving me a free digital copy of this book!
On the one hand this is a fascinating portrait of, to my mind, the best blues performer of all time - Skip James. This book is full of interesting facts such as the background behind the legendary 1931 Vanguard sessions, some of James' influences such as Stuckey, and at the same time the homicidal tendencies of Skip James himself. Not only did he fantasize about gunning his ex-girlfriend down but as Calt relates, in his younger years, James was not afraid to pull his gun on someone. In one particular incident James killed an innumerable number of people at one of his local hoedowns, where he was secretly operating as a bootlegger as well.
On the other hand, this is a merciless assault by the obviously bitter and caustic Stephen Calt. Calt not only rips into James about how his born-again religiosity destroyed his musical ability, he totally discredits almost everything Skip tried to play or record post-1931. Which is weird. Go on youtube and listen to Hard Times Killing Floor Blues - both the 1931 version and the version recorded in the 1960s. Both are great in my opinion but the latter one is superior (obviously) in terms of sound quality, making it much more listenable but according to Calt, no, it's no good. Even Skip's slower version of I'm So Glad (which Cream later turned into a hit) was a flop according to Calt because it wasn't fast enough.
There are so many jaw-dropping stories in here, for example, his recording company in the 1960s made him do a recording even when he was in excruciating pain waiting for surgery, there was a possible connection between Skip James and Robert Johnson, either directly or indirectly, and finally, and most incredulously, Skip offered to name Stephen Calt (who was a young fawning fan of James' at the time - yet to turn into scathing critic) the benefactor of his will when he died.
There are so many stories in here which make this biography truly fascinating. But a word to the wise - take Calt's devastating critique with a truckload of salt. There is heaps of conjecture and bitterness in here, which sadly prevents this book from being a complete classic. Still worth the read. Highly recommended for blues enthusiasts. Thanks to Jeff for giving me a free digital copy of this book!
August 23, 2021
Stephen Calt was the Mikey of popular music historians: he didn't quite HATE everything, but he disapproved of most things. As a young blues fanatic he was a confidante of Skip James and the experience eventually shook him to the core. "Had I known how our lives would intersect over the next four years," he writes in a chapter recounting how he met James as a a beardless youth at the Newport Folk Festival, "I would not have initiated that first conversation." Calt doesn't just disapprove of James the murderer (and he's on solid ground there for sure); his tut-tutting extends to barrelhouses, bootlegging, drinking and more activities indulged by humans. His skewering of Beatniks, record collectors, and other American mutants of the 20th century is calm and merciless. At the same time he insists on James' artistic greatness, based on a handful of his 1931 Paramount sides, and makes his argument in great detail. These days many cultural observers fall into "separate the art from the artist" or "reject both the badly-behaved artist and their works" camp, and this has always struck me as a really (excuse me for putting it this way) dumb and non-constructive binary. Calt's approach, in spite of his idiosyncratic near-priggishness, points to a more tenable way of looking at things. Also, this is a helluva "read" as they say.
February 9, 2009
Skip James was a blues innovator, a sour, murderous pimp who also happened to be . . . a piano tuner!
May 7, 2009
I would have given this book five stars for the bio bits, but the author spent too much time showing off his music theory knowledge.
September 2, 2010
Being the only biography of James I've come across, it's good for the information, but Calt comes across as extremely cynical and even hateful, even to his subject matter.
November 28, 2011
Frustrating, mean-spirited book.
March 30, 2024
Interesting read – it is obviously about Skip James, but it is also very much about the author himself and his disenchantment with blues revivalists and the romanticisation of blues music. I found it compelling enough, but also think Calt's judgements cloud the narrative of James' life, so if you're looking for a straight biography of the man, go elsewhere.
The best parts of the book are those that emphasise the crassly commercial nature of blues singing during its heyday. Becoming a bluesman was simultaneously about desire for profit, and a means of expressing a masculine ego. Really, the best contemporary comparison here is with rappers, and I don't mean in that corny "bluesmen invented rap!" way, but in the way both styles of music have a strain of nihilistic violence at the core of them. Bluesmen were involved in lower-level crimes and often double times as pimps, bootleggers, and so on; they were ludicrously hostile to each other and ultra-competitive (James certainly was). Many of them would die premature deaths at the hands of jealous associates, lovers' husbands, double-timing crooks, etc. Misogyny was baked into their worldview as an expression of their own pressurised social position. In other words, I'd never thought of XXXTentacion and Charley Patton as having much in common until I read this book.
Some parts of the book are confusing – Calt seems to simultaneously think of James as both a fantastic musician and a pedestrian one, even during his "peak" years when he recorded his best works. Calt also seems to take a lot of what James' says at face value when some skepticism is warranted; the most galling example is when Calt recounts James' "spree killing" story of shooting wildly at a dancefloor full of people. Calt takes this to be true, but I'm wary; surely if James really did massacre a whole bunch of people at his own juke joint, word would have spread?
The author states that murder rates where high in rural black communities at the time, and that the authorities, media, etc didn't care to investigate since black life had no value in their eyes. I can believe that, but I can't believe that nobody else – including Bentonia residents or other bluesmen – would fail to bring it up, when the author is happy to report every other remark or rumour James' associates made about him. More to the point, James was prone to fantasies about spree killing, as the author notes near the end of the book – in the 60s he had repeat (but unfulfilled) fantasies about going on a some kind of a shooting spree triggered by street hoodlums.
As far as I can tell, most of Calt's attacks on popular blues faux-history have been borne out by contemporary research done by people like Elijah Wald... albeit in a less cynical manner. Calt does seem to over-egg the pudding at times. Still, it's worth a read.
The best parts of the book are those that emphasise the crassly commercial nature of blues singing during its heyday. Becoming a bluesman was simultaneously about desire for profit, and a means of expressing a masculine ego. Really, the best contemporary comparison here is with rappers, and I don't mean in that corny "bluesmen invented rap!" way, but in the way both styles of music have a strain of nihilistic violence at the core of them. Bluesmen were involved in lower-level crimes and often double times as pimps, bootleggers, and so on; they were ludicrously hostile to each other and ultra-competitive (James certainly was). Many of them would die premature deaths at the hands of jealous associates, lovers' husbands, double-timing crooks, etc. Misogyny was baked into their worldview as an expression of their own pressurised social position. In other words, I'd never thought of XXXTentacion and Charley Patton as having much in common until I read this book.
Some parts of the book are confusing – Calt seems to simultaneously think of James as both a fantastic musician and a pedestrian one, even during his "peak" years when he recorded his best works. Calt also seems to take a lot of what James' says at face value when some skepticism is warranted; the most galling example is when Calt recounts James' "spree killing" story of shooting wildly at a dancefloor full of people. Calt takes this to be true, but I'm wary; surely if James really did massacre a whole bunch of people at his own juke joint, word would have spread?
The author states that murder rates where high in rural black communities at the time, and that the authorities, media, etc didn't care to investigate since black life had no value in their eyes. I can believe that, but I can't believe that nobody else – including Bentonia residents or other bluesmen – would fail to bring it up, when the author is happy to report every other remark or rumour James' associates made about him. More to the point, James was prone to fantasies about spree killing, as the author notes near the end of the book – in the 60s he had repeat (but unfulfilled) fantasies about going on a some kind of a shooting spree triggered by street hoodlums.
As far as I can tell, most of Calt's attacks on popular blues faux-history have been borne out by contemporary research done by people like Elijah Wald... albeit in a less cynical manner. Calt does seem to over-egg the pudding at times. Still, it's worth a read.
April 7, 2021
One of the most caustic biographies I've ever read. Skip James' volatile personality and views, along with the Calt's bitter disposition, make for a fairly grueling read. Fans who find themselves enamoured by James' music and enigmatic cult status will likely have a reflexive gut reaction on learning more about this previously mysterious figure, especially if they're not comfortable with their artists and public figures being less than savoury characters.
This reads very much like a bad dream that seemingly lasts all night. Impossible to decide whether to read this as a total hit piece on Skip James, or to admire Calt's willingness to write the truths he found during his time spent with James. It's a very biased account of James' life either way, and we'll never know for sure how true this portrait is, and if anything is obscured or left out for the reader.
A necessary alternative document on the blues, if you choose to go along with Calt's perspective, and one that adds a great layer or depth and complexities to its subject, and to other great blues writing of the past forty years. But certainly a deep cut read mostly for hard fans of Skip James or pre-war blues in general, and even then I'd day it's a 50/50 on whether that crowd enjoys the book.
Either way, my main takeaway is that the world that the 'country blues' was born out of was not as idealized as white fans of the 60s would like to think, and sometimes the artists themselves were equally as complex.
Never meet your idols has never rung so true.
This reads very much like a bad dream that seemingly lasts all night. Impossible to decide whether to read this as a total hit piece on Skip James, or to admire Calt's willingness to write the truths he found during his time spent with James. It's a very biased account of James' life either way, and we'll never know for sure how true this portrait is, and if anything is obscured or left out for the reader.
A necessary alternative document on the blues, if you choose to go along with Calt's perspective, and one that adds a great layer or depth and complexities to its subject, and to other great blues writing of the past forty years. But certainly a deep cut read mostly for hard fans of Skip James or pre-war blues in general, and even then I'd day it's a 50/50 on whether that crowd enjoys the book.
Either way, my main takeaway is that the world that the 'country blues' was born out of was not as idealized as white fans of the 60s would like to think, and sometimes the artists themselves were equally as complex.
Never meet your idols has never rung so true.
June 18, 2018
Just finished reading this during a trip to the Bentonia Blues Festival. See
First of all, the author is an authoritative and sfor much of James’ later life. He is also well versed in the social history and country blues in general. He is one of those ‘Blues mafia’ guys, collector of 78s, etc.. that made a living off ‘being there’ on the scene./22-33:: was
That being said, he takes a bit too much artistic license in piecing together many of the ‘blind spots’ in James’ earlier life, that time between his famous Grafton recordings in 1931 and his rediscovery in the early sixties. He rather boldly suggests that James was a hardened criminal and a violent man. Pure conjecture.
My only other beef is that he is one of those boomer Blues mafia guys that completely dismissed the notion of a ‘Bentonia school’ of blues. It’s this kind of elite snobbery that hurts the genre and acts as some sort of pseudo intellectual shackle and chain on the art form.
Incredibly, he is derisive about many local blues greats, such as Jack Owens and Henry Stuckey (the man who brought back crossnote tuning from WWI). Regarding the former, he derisively calls him a ‘strummer.’ In a sense, it will be a great thing for the Blues when this generation of so-called experts (however reluctantly) passes the torch to a more objective, younger generation.
Otherwise, an informative read.
First of all, the author is an authoritative and sfor much of James’ later life. He is also well versed in the social history and country blues in general. He is one of those ‘Blues mafia’ guys, collector of 78s, etc.. that made a living off ‘being there’ on the scene./22-33:: was
That being said, he takes a bit too much artistic license in piecing together many of the ‘blind spots’ in James’ earlier life, that time between his famous Grafton recordings in 1931 and his rediscovery in the early sixties. He rather boldly suggests that James was a hardened criminal and a violent man. Pure conjecture.
My only other beef is that he is one of those boomer Blues mafia guys that completely dismissed the notion of a ‘Bentonia school’ of blues. It’s this kind of elite snobbery that hurts the genre and acts as some sort of pseudo intellectual shackle and chain on the art form.
Incredibly, he is derisive about many local blues greats, such as Jack Owens and Henry Stuckey (the man who brought back crossnote tuning from WWI). Regarding the former, he derisively calls him a ‘strummer.’ In a sense, it will be a great thing for the Blues when this generation of so-called experts (however reluctantly) passes the torch to a more objective, younger generation.
Otherwise, an informative read.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
May 23, 2024
I've read a whole bunch of biogs/autobiogs of blues 'musicianers' over the years, but never one quite like this. The author has a unique confrontatinal style, and Skip James was a confusing character, to say the least. A fascinating read, albeit somewhat disquieting. Having read this, I'm not really sure if I actually know any more about Skip James than I did before!
Thanks to Mark Harrison for the heads up on this one.
Thanks to Mark Harrison for the heads up on this one.
March 25, 2024
educational, grating, tedious, fascinating if its your thing its your thing but i don't think it was my thing.
January 9, 2025
A enjoyable book with a lot of history of the times included. My only grumble, sometimes it went on to long about the times and not Skip James. But its only a little grumble, a good read.
September 29, 2024
It's hard to explain how grungy this book made me feel at the end of it. Obviously James was a very difficult person to interact with, but all the inferences that the author made about someone who was obviously extremely cagey .... ? Even with all those hours of tape, how could Calt *really* know the mind of someone who was so set on keeping their real thoughts from him? Yet he makes all these grandiose conclusions about what James thought and felt, even down to telling the reader what James's views on religion and spirituality were. And then at the end Calt "hints" at what *he* thinks might have been the missing piece of James's life, based on some song lyrics and Calt's own gross inferences? Ugh. Just, no. Also, Calt pretty much hates on everything - the bluesman's lifestyle, much of the blues genre itself, the 60s folk and blues scene, other blues players who weren't Skip James, white blues fans, and the record companies who moved in and predatorily sucked James's music out of him (even while he was ill in the hospital) while always avoiding paying him (that hatred is justified). Anyway, at the end of all this, wow. I'm not a big fan of books that are just paeans to the amazingness of an infallible artist, but this book just doesn't seem fair.
ETA: I found this review by Peter Guralnick and it sums up a lot of the petty smallness about this book. https://oxfordamerican.org/magazine/i...
ETA: I found this review by Peter Guralnick and it sums up a lot of the petty smallness about this book. https://oxfordamerican.org/magazine/i...
November 9, 2016
A disturbing, cynical profile of Skip James, the cultures he lived in, and the music he played. Skip James was a misanthropoic and misogynistic man, slightly paranoid and ego driven, who lived a rough and tumble life but nonetheless carved out a piece of eternity with his beautiful and unique blues styling. The author respects his music and was apparently a friend to James in his later years, but he doesn't seem to like him, or many of the 1960s folk music figures he encountered.
Most of the author's takes on how James was cheated have the ring of truth to them, but they are disturbing to read about in such great detail
Most of the author's takes on how James was cheated have the ring of truth to them, but they are disturbing to read about in such great detail
April 21, 2016
This real-life tale details the arc of the pioneering gambler, bootlegger, murderer, and (seemingly incidental) guitar genius Skip James, who didn't die at 27 on a crossroads in the delta, but managed to survive the juke joint era and pass away just as the 60s folk revival turned him into a hero.
A solid and refreshing biography which exposes the traditional bluesman archetype as fundamentally racist and self-serving.
A solid and refreshing biography which exposes the traditional bluesman archetype as fundamentally racist and self-serving.
August 6, 2011
Some ok information about Skip James, but you have to get past Stephen Calt's poor writing style and obnoxious personality, which pervades the book. My recommendation is to skip the book and listen to Skip's recordings.
April 21, 2015
ever hear the song in ghost world?
Displaying 1 - 26 of 26 reviews