Lister

By Nicolas Jespersen
Translation by Tobias Bindslet

Loose overalls, sleeves rolled up to his shoulders, John Deere cap, old-school tattoos on his arms, and a bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand. If a believable blues uniform exists, Seasick Steve’s farmer look is a perfect example.

With his faithful three-stringed guitar and generous storytelling, Seasick Steve has made blues into anything but antiquated wreckage. We met the seasick guitarist for a conversation before the concert at Pavillion Friday evening. Here, he humbly rejects the restrictive blues label:

”I don’t see myself as someone playing the blues. I just focus on playing. The only thing that matters is, whether it rocks or doesn’t rock – and that’s where my interest lies.”

He runs his fingers through the unruly beard and states:

”It just isn’t very useful to be labelled with the blues term, because what most people know as the blues, is just a bunch of middle-aged gentlemen with pony tails, who sit around singing ‘Sweet Home Chicago’, even though most of them probably never have been in Chicago.”

Steve smiles disarmingly, and he is obviously not a guy that bothers with other people’s attempted definitions, but rather focuses first on his own musical expression.

I tell him about the fact that some have named him the life buoy of blues, but that ungrateful task is not something the artist can really accept.

”I must admit, that I really can’t take responsibility for saving blues. My only responsibility, I think, is to myself and I mainly want to entertain people.”

Intact instict for survival

At just 13 years of age, Steve took on life on the road, where he made a living by, among other things, playing music at random places in the American states. Steve explains enthusiastically:

”All the fundamental parts of me and my music are from the time I spent as a homeless, where the roads were my parents. That time definitely made me more self-reliant, and it also gave me the strength to survive by very humble means.”

It’s clearly not a huge pyramid of needs that dominates Steve’s life, not back then and not today. And if necessary, he would be able to do it again today:

”If I had to do it today, I would still do fine. I’m convinced that at anytime, I can walk out the door without a coin to my name and still be alright.”

He realises, though, that it is not the most glamorous life imaginable.

The wandering Jack Kerouac of blues has spoken, and when you listen to the quiet calmness of Steve’s words, it really is easy to believe. Who knows – maybe we will once again see the strong-willed, long-bearded hillbilly on the endless highways with his faithful guitar in hand?