If the music means that much, why wouldn’t you want to know more from the people who knew him and are still alive? The stories and the information that he uncovered are priceless.” But Corcoran, found the vital missing percent: He made the drive to Teague, he knocked on doors, he found people who knew Washington Phillips. “Anyone can get on the internet and find 99 percent of the information that’s already out there. “The reason our label exists and supports people like Michael Corcoran is because for some people, this music means the world,” says Lance Ledbetter, who co-runs Dust-to-Digital with his wife April. But through the legwork and dedication of semi-retired Texas music journalist Michael Corcoran and Atlanta’s Dust-to-Digital archival record label, nearly 90 years after his final recordings were made, Phillips’ story can be told. When Phillips died, a secret history of pre-war gospel blues was born a mystery shrouded in speculation and mistaken identity. The songs he recorded for Columbia Records between 19 were a blessing sent from heaven above, transcending time and obscurity with psychedelic revelry. But to a niche group of musical fanatics, he was a touchstone. To the locals, Phillips was an eccentric old black man from rural Freestone County.
He was 74 years old, and had made the trip to Teague’s Department of Welfare Services that day from nearby Simsboro on the back of his mule-drawn wagon.
Washington “Wash” Phillips died after falling down a set of stairs at City Hall in the small town of Teague, Texas.
THE OLD MAN FROM FREESTONE COUNTY: Washington Phillips poses with his two zithers circa 1927.
0 kommentar(er)
