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"What you floatin on?"

..."Roll-top desk"

gets me every time.

Guitarist / Singer


Born: 8 May 1911
Died: 16 August 1938 (mysterious circumstances)
Birthplace: Hazelhurst, Mississippi
Best known as:
The legendary blues guitarist of "Crossroads" fame

Name at birth: Robert Spencer



Robert Johnson was an influential Mississippi blues singer and songwriter who supposedly sold his soul to Satan "at the crossroads" in exchange for his remarkable talent on the guitar. Born and raised in Mississippi, Robert Johnson started playing blues guitar in the late 1920s. His wife and child died in childbirth around 1930 and he is said to have then devoted himself to the guitar. Part of the crossroads story stems from a report that he dropped out of sight for a while in the early 1930s and returned a much-improved guitarist. In 1936-37 he recorded at least 29 songs in Texas (San Antonio and Dallas), then returned to Mississippi to play and sing in clubs and bars. His mysterious death at the age of 27 added to the legend: on the night of 13 August 1938 something happened to Johnson in a bar in Greenwood, Mississippi and he died three days later.

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Robert Johnson

Robert Johnson's studio portrait, circa 1935 – one of only three verified published photographs
Background information
Birth name Robert Leroy Johnson
Born (1911-05-08)May 8, 1911
Hazlehurst, Mississippi
Died August 16, 1938(1938-08-16) (aged 27)
Greenwood, Mississippi
Genres Delta blues
Occupation(s) Musician, songwriter
Instruments Guitar, vocals, harmonica
Years active 1929–38
Notable instruments
Gibson L-1

Robert Leroy Johnson (May 8, 1911 – August 16, 1938) was an American singer-songwriter and musician. His landmark recordings in 1936 and 1937 display a combination of singing, guitar skills, and songwriting talent that has influenced later generations of musicians. Johnson's shadowy, poorly documented life and death at age 27 have given rise to much legend, including the Faustian myth that he sold his soul at a crossroads to achieve success. As an itinerant performer who played mostly on street corners, in juke joints, and at Saturday night dances, Johnson had little commercial success or public recognition in his lifetime.

It was only after the reissue of his recordings in 1961 on the LP King of the Delta Blues Singers that his work reached a wider audience. Johnson is now recognized as a master of the blues, particularly of the Mississippi Delta blues style. He is credited by many rock musicians as an important influence; Eric Clapton has called Johnson "the most important blues singer that ever lived."[1][2] Johnson was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame as an early Influence in their first induction ceremony in 1986.[3] In 2010, David Fricke ranked Johnson fifth in Rolling Stone′s list of the 100 Greatest Guitarists of All Time.[4]

Meeting with the Devil at the Crossroads

A “vision”, as told by Henry Goodman

Robert Johnson been playing down in Yazoo City and over at Beulah trying to get back up to Helena, ride left him out on a road next to the levee, walking up the highway, guitar in his hand propped up on his shoulder. October cool night, full moon filling up the dark sky, Robert Johnson thinking about Son House preaching to him, “Put that guitar down, boy, you drivin’ people nuts.” Robert Johnson needing as always a woman and some whiskey. Big trees all around, dark and lonesome road, a crazed, poisoned dog howling and moaning in a ditch alongside the road sending electrified chills up and down Robert Johnson’s spine, coming up on a crossroads just south of Rosedale. Robert Johnson, feeling bad and lonesome, knows people up the highway in Gunnison. Can get a drink of whiskey and more up there. Man sitting off to the side of the road on a log at the crossroads says, “You’re late, Robert Johnson.” Robert Johnson drops to his knees and says, “Maybe not.”

The man stands up, tall, barrel-chested, and black as the forever-closed eyes of Robert Johnson’s stillborn baby, and walks out to the middle of the crossroads where Robert Johnson kneels. He says, “Stand up, Robert Johnson. You want to throw that guitar over there in that ditch with that hairless dog and go on back up to Robinsonville and play the harp with Willie Brown and Son, because you just another guitar player like all the rest, or you want to play that guitar like nobody ever played it before? Make a sound nobody ever heard before? You want to be the King of the Delta Blues and have all the whiskey and women you want?”

“That’s a lot of whiskey and women, Devil-Man.”


“I know you, Robert Johnson,” says the man.

A box of hammers had intellectual superiority over Pete and Delmar.