Abstract
On a night early summer, I was upstairs at the Blue Note, floating on air, after experiencing a superb performance by vocalist-composer Cassandra Wilson. Her great big heart issuing from her voice, and her turning and tipping the song this way and that to make it new had touched me to the point where I had to thank her; so there I was on the second floor, waiting while the band packed up for the night. I browsed through the postcard rack, partly to choose souvenirs, partly to glimpse the faces of legendary people in the business and wonder at the fact that some of them had (at some time or other) claimed the stage downstairs for a few hours. I finally bought three postcards, one of Aretha Franklin, one of Cecil Taylor, and one of Howlin' Wolf and his band. I don't know where Howlin' Wolf was when this photo was taken, but he is strumming his guitar, looking up with his mouth open as if he were mid-song, talking back to the moon beyond the ceiling. One thing's for sure, he is gigging, telling it like it 'tis.
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