"Hello, Satan, I believe it's time to go."

It’s only right that we start with the one and only Robert Johnson, and the song from which this wonderful blog got its name, “Hellhound On My Trail.” This song was recorded in a warehouse in Dallas, Texas on June 20, 1937. Johnson only recorded 29 songs, but his pioneering guitar work, unmatchable voice and innovative styling of songs has influenced generations of musicians. But his genius may have come at a price. Legend has it that Johnson went down to the crossroads in Mississippi and sold his soul to the devil; and “Hellhound” itself adds to the mysticism, as it portrays a man being swallowed by evil (is this starting to sound like an episode of The Twilight Zone?). This arguably makes him the most mysterious of all the Delta bluesmen, as he is considered the first member of the infamous “27 Club” and little else is known about him.

The lyrics are likely influenced by the idea that hellhounds (evil hell-spawn-type dogs found throughout mythology) were out to get sinners, an idea common in southern churches at the time.

I got to keep movin', I got to keep movin' Blues fallin' down like hail, blues fallin' down like hail Mmmm, blues fallin' down like hail, blues fallin' down like hail And the days keep worryin' me, there's a hell-hound on my trail Hell-hound on my trail, hell-hound on my trial

"Hot foot powder" was a concoction used to drive away unwanted persons and spirits, and Johnson's woman wasn't afraid to use it.

All I would need is my little sweet rider Just to pass the time away, huh huh To pass the time away You sprinkled hot foot powder, mmm Mmm, around my door All around my door You sprinkled hot foot powder All around your daddy's door, hmm hmm hmm It keep me with ramblin' mind, rider Every old place I go Every old place I go

To add to the myth that is Robert Johnson, it is said he was poisoned by a strychnine-laced bottle of whiskey. This song is full of desolate images and perhaps, for those believers, foreshadows the morbid death that was imminent.

I can tell the wind is risin' The leaves tremblin' on the tree Tremblin' on the tree Hmmm hmmm hmm mmm All I need is my little sweet woman And to keep my company, hey hey hey hey My company

Whatever the origin or belief, you can feel in your bones how Robert Johnson meant every word he sang and every note he strummed. Songs don't get more powerful, eerie or transcendent than this...