Jerron ‘Blind Boy’ Paxton can make a Tel Aviv club feel like a family gathering on a back porch in Mississippi. When you hear this multi-instrumentalist (piano, violin, harmonica, guitar, banjo) sing and play, it’s hard to believe that he was born in 1989, rather than 1889. Paxton has the smile of a mischievous child, the elegance of a bygone era, and a deep feel for the music, singing like an elder of the tribe. Singing the kind of songs that you learn from someone, sitting by their side, or in the intimacy of listening to an old record over and over again.
His fingers have a ragtime bounce on the piano, that glides into a soft caress; he powers the guitar and banjo with an energy that reverberates through the room, swift and strong. Quick and perceptive, there is an edge to his wit, that does not sting, but penetrates the listener’s heart and mind through laughter. Where some musicians turn inward, Paxton reaches out, his resonant voice infusing the room with energy, generating warmth and light.
Paxton may draw his inspiration from the past, recalling the blues musicians of the 1920s and 30s, but he is very much a troubadour of these times. Singing the Michigan Water Blues, where the Michigan water tastes like cherry wine and Mississippi water tastes like turpentine, he added a verse about the “Indians in South Dakota catching hell,” referring to the protests against an oil pipeline that would run under the Missouri River, the main water source for the Standing Rock Sioux tribe. In this he recalls the storytellers of old, the creators, instructors and preservers of culture, whose role was to educate as they entertain.
There is a sense in which Paxton makes subversive use of traditional blues and an old-time feel, the aura of nostalgia makes the audience more receptive as he explores risky and risqué themes. “Are there any Negroes in the crowd?” he asked, his friendly, open gaze turning toward the Tel Aviv audience. Looking around, he concluded, “Not at all.” Declaring his desire to “improve the education of the population,” he offered some solid musical advice: “Must not clap on the same beat you stomp on. It is awkward.” Paxton then proceeded to demonstrate proper, laid-back clapping. He is a very funny guy, and he is as smart and serious as he is funny. There is nothing random about Paxton’s word choice, deliberately employing words like “Negro” and “colored.” These words serve as a reminder that these songs, beautiful, moving, clever and funny, with the melodies that make you want to dance even when the words are mournful, these songs were not written for us. The raw material of these songs are the lives of people, people who sang those lives into music, people who have a history, and that history should not be forgotten.
Love songs, bawdy songs, and drinking songs merged with songs of the cotton fields. Paxton is a mesmerizing performer, moving from one instrument to another as the spirit moves him, playing each with élan and fire. One of my favorites of the evening was a song Paxton said his grandmother liked to sing: How I Got Over. The magical night was over all too soon. Coming back for an encore, Paxton closed the evening with the hilarious “When an Ugly Woman Tells You No,” and definitely left his admiring audience wanting more…
Image credit: All photographs are property of MUPERPHOTO, and may not be used without written permission from Victor List.
