Dear Sir Jason,
I believe the Rock player we do not speak of -- He
Who Must Not Be Named -- is none other than Lord
Voldemort, a former Wizard of high regard who's
talent has been altered by the force of Rock.
Sugar Blucifer is indeed another fallen Archangel
of Blues... and I'm afraid that you, my son, tread
dangerously close to the Abyss. But fear not, for
there is hope yet.
Good Sir Jason, I pray thee, remember the Founding
Fathers of our good brotherhood, the long-dead
Wizards of antediluvian antiquity -- The Duke of
LittleWalter, Sir Walter of Horton, the Lords
Sonnyboy of Williamson (I and II), Duke Sonny of
Terry, Sir Paul of Butterfield, Sir William of
Clarke, Sir Junior of Wells, Sir Jimmy of the Reed,
Lord George Duke of Smith and even Sir Jazz of
Gillum.
Remember these titans of Blues and you shall
withstand the pull of the Dark Side and, should you
occasoinally cross the threshold of Rock, you shall
always be able to return to your Holy Roots.
Those roots live deep in your soul... let your
every run up the Scale of Truth ring with Heavenly
Blue Notes, celebrating and the honest toil of thy
noble soul. Let thy rig always be purified by the
Vacuum Tubes of Power, let thy tone always be
buttery smooth, yet cut nasty and deep, as only a
tweed Fender can. Let thy chops be ever fresh.
Play well, my brother, play well. Fear not the pull
of Rock, as long as you keep the Founders in your
heart.
Harpin' in Colorado,
--Squire Mojo Red