Crumb obviously loves the music. Here he is last month with an old 78 rpm record. I like it too. There are some surprises: somehow I'd never noticed before how ("Nobody can sing the blues like") Blind Willie McTell actually sings the blues; I'd anticipated something like Howlin' Wolf, but the voice is much sweeter, almost effeminate.
But I don't go completely overboard for the recordings. I'm sure it would be different if I were American, but all that Old Weird America mythologising that Greil Marcus does is just, well, mythologising — a creative fiction.
Crumb's portraits buy into the mythology, and then add a nostalgia that seems to romanticise the suffering those struggling and unregarded-in-their-lifetimes musicians almost certainly experienced. I don't like them much.
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