Now how bad-ass would you have to be to win an award called "Best Blues Album by a Louisana Artist"
Seriously. Babies cut their teeth on harmonica's in Louisana. The spices in the food make 'em wail that way. There ain't nobody that can sing the blues like someone who'se stumbled home through the french quarter in New Orleans. The rhythmn is in the sound of steps on the pavement, the rocking of the train, the ebb and flow of the tide.
Here's a site where you can find out more about his music, and a link to his myspace page and other articles. :-)
( I miss you Coco. Thanks for letting me play with You, and telling such fabulous stories! )