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Cedell Davis

 

Cedell Davis

(After seeing Handel’s Messiah in English)


“Some people you can’t explain nothin to em.

They see it with their own eyes

But they still don’t get it”

 

Maybe the words aren’t an exact quote

Anymore than his guitar plays a tuned note

But I love his music & philosophy. 

 

Arkansas born & bred.

1933 Typhoid malaria got his legs.

1936 Polio got his arms.

When a gunman hit a bar he was playing he was trampled by a crowd

His movement is extremely limited.

 

But he still plays kick ass blues.

My favourite a lot of the time.

 

To the Western Ear raised on Western tuning & electronic tuners, it sounds ‘out of tune.’

When I was younger, my classically trained brother explained relative pitch.

It stuck.

 

In a universe of relativity of sound waves the odder the better. The more resonant the stronger.

 

Cedell plays clear.

 

Art is about communication.

 

“If you like fat women” & you’re anywhere near Arkansas, USA, he can tell you where to go.

 

He talks of the atom bomb. Whose cloud still hangs over us.

 

He says important things. You don’t need to be educated to be a philosopher.

 

He is clear.

 

But above all his sound is undeniable. Inimitable. Eternal.

 

A paralyzed guitar player singer.  Man he sings & plays like a beast.

“Become the song” my Irish dad implored.

 

Makes you wanna think. Makes you wanna imagine. Makes you wanna fuck.

 

The black soil of the Mississippi Delta sounds clear as a fog horn for refugees.

 

I realize Jesus’s story is the story of the oppressed. It’s not pure & frigid & rigid. It’s about getting hot, sweaty, dirty & bloody. But the European came with his measurement devices

Turned the message around

Said that God was him.

 

I say God is Cedell Davis & the poor & the incarcerated

Who somehow find a message of hope & love

 

When the Devil reigns from above.

 

 

Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2023.

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