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R.L. Burnside is dead. Long live R.L.


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James Gregory reports:

Celebrated blues singer-guitarist R.L. Burnside died at St. Francis hospital in Memphis, Tennessee Thursday morning, following an almost 3 week stay. While no official cause of death has been announced, a representative from Burnside's label, Fat Possum Records, explained that he had suffered a heart attack the previous year, and "never fully recovered." Burnside was 78 years old, and is survived by his widow Alice Mae, twelve children, and multiple grandchildren.

 

Born in Harmontown, Mississippi, Burnside was primarily a farmer and fisherman for much of his life, performing intermittently from the 1960s onward. While known regionally for his live shows, he gained mainstream exposure after becoming the first artist signed to Fat Possum in 1991. Burnside would go on to release ten critically-hailed albums for the label between 1992 and 2004, with his last studio LP A Bothered Mind issued in August of last year.

 

His eclectic blues shuffle and openness to experimentation (via indie and hip hop flourishes) attracted the attention of the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, who backed Burnside on 1996's A Ass Pocket of Whiskey. His 2001 album Burnside on Burnside received a Grammy nomination for best Traditional Blues Album, and his music has been featured in numerous films and television shows, including HBO's “The Sopranos”.

 

A post on the Fat Possum website notes that memorial donations for Burnside’s family are currently being accepted, and can be sent to the following address:

 

Freeland & Freeland Trust Account

Burnside Memorial

P.O. Box 269

Oxford, MS 38655

 

* Fat Possum: http://www.fatpossum.com/

 

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I was lucky enough to see him play in 94 also, on the waterfront in Philly. He fucking blew me away like noone ever has, and he was sitting down, pounding the drum with one foot and tearing the speakers apart with his arms. The next year I went to one of his shows in SLC. My friend Rich and I were the only people to sneak beer into the show (it was at a fine arts auditorium on a dry campus). We arrived late, got front-row seats anyway, and dammit R.L. was sick. So the late, great Junior Kimbrough closed the show and I learned that FatPossum was what blues was all about.

 

A friend of my has a funny story of forcing her way into R.L.'s trailer between sets at a blues fest in Oregon. She was so drunk that when she finally got in, R.L just laughed at her.

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