Today marks the 40ieth anniversary of bluesman Alan “Blind Owl” Wilson’s suicide in Topanga Canyon, California, on Bob Hite’s property. Blind Owl is an oft-forgotten member of the fabled 27 Club and his death marked the first of three 27s over the course of the fall of 1970; Janis Joplin and Jimi Hendrix were to follow.

Alan Wilson grew up in a Boston suburb and studied music at Boston University. From an early age he was, using a contemporary label, an ardent conservationist and environmentalist. Out of all the musicians who played Monterey in ’67 or Woodstock in ’69, Wilson truly held nature sacred, both in actions and in words. Canned Heat’s Future Blues record included a short plead in the gate-fold where Alan Wilson urged people to save his beloved California Redwoods from extinction. At the time, logging posed a huge threat to the last swaths of these primeval, majestic forests.

Instead of sleeping in hotels while on tour, Blind Owl preferred to roll out his sleeping bag in nearby fields and spend the early morning hours collecting samples that he’d stuff in a huge botany book that he liked to travel with.

When it came to playing music, Blind Owl’s chops on the harmonica and guitar, be it acoustic, electric or slide, was in a sense unrivaled. He possessed an in-depth knowledge of all forms of the blues and a true blues scholar. During the Hooker N Heat sessions, which took place shortly before his death, he proved seasoned enough to follow John Lee Hooker’s odd beats every step of the way. You can hear Hooker mutter in amazement that the pale, bespectacled kid always seemed to know where the old master was going. “You musta been listenin’ to my records all your life!” Hooker says. But Hooker was just one of many masters whose style Alan Wilson knew intimately. Six years earlier, in 1964, Wilson taught Son House, who had long retired from music, to play the songs House had recorded back in the 1930s.

While Alan Wilson’s chops were top-notch, he suffered with severe and chronic mental illness. His bandmates in Canned Heat provided support, but probably not the kind of stability someone like Wilson needed. He had already attempted suicide a couple of times before he did himself in with a handful of reds and a bottle of gin.

During the research for The 27s–The Greatest Myth of Rock & Roll, manager and friend Skip Taylor told us that when he discovered Alan’s body, the musician finally looked peaceful and happy.

Wilson’s songs and music live on through “On the Road Again” and “Up In the Country,” but his talent covers obviously much more than the famous hits. Seek out his work with John Fahey, the aforementioned Son House and John Lee Hooker, as well as “Five Owls” and “Raga Kafi” from Living the Blues‘s trippy “Parthenogenesis.” Yup, that’s Wilson on the hypnotic sitar.

Skip Taylor is currently shopping around a “solo” record that features released and unreleased Alan Wilson material with and without Canned Heat. We’re not holding our breath for this one, but hope it’ll be released sometime in the not-so-distant future.

Be sure to listen to the Stephen Stills clip below where he dedicates “Blues Man” to our tragic guitar hero.

While Willy Brown and his headstone is making headlines, there is a continual search to find physical evidence of the blues era’s men . There are no known photos of Willie, but it would make sense given the times, the vagabonding lifestyle these men lived and the likely chance anyone in the audience was carrying a Canon… that being said, the past few years have surprisingly brought to light 2 new photographs purported to be that of 27 Club founder, Robert Johnson.

The first was featured in the November 2008 issue of Vanity Fair magazine. An avid guitar collector, Zeke Schein, claims he now owns the third known photograph of Johnson, and that he bought it off of eBay.

The seller advertised the photo as that of a “young BB King” but Schein was convinced otherwise. $2200 had the item shipped and delivered. Upon closer scrutiny, Schein believed the man to the left of “Robert” to be, none other than that of Johnny Shines, well-known traveler and companion of Johnson during their heydays. The hands and facial features certainly suggest an affinity for Johnson’s own, but to date, the certainty is still less than 100%.

A second photo, eerily similar to the much heralded cigarette photo booth shot, came to light in early 2007 when the owner asked for a whopping $795,000 at opening auction. Crazy, right?!? Maybe not so when you figure this in… In the summer of 2006, what was dubbed, the “Holy Grail” of musical instruments popped up: the guitar said to be held by Robert Johnson in his infamous cross-legged portrait. For a mere $6 million, the guitar went up for grabs across the web. There was little proof other than some photo comparisons, but risk seems to be less important than an opportunity to own music history.

Whether or not these artifacts do in fact hold clues about the lives of Robert, Johnny, or even Willie does not really matter. The quest to authenticate Robert or Willie’s life will continue to enthuse and inspire music fans across the globe. And, who knows, maybe the ole’ thrift store down the road holds the proof of Willie’s mug, Robert’s additional threads or links in the chain to a history we can’t get enough of. Cheers!

“You can run, you can run, tell my friend boy Willie Brown”
With those words, rock’s grandfather and 27s archetype Robert Johnson immortalized bluesman Willie Brown in his prophetic “Cross Road Blues.” Cream (Eric Clapton, Ginger Baker, and Jack Bruce), of course, brought the song into the rock canon with their version of the song.

While Willie Brown’s name is immortalized, his earthly remains rest in an unmarked grave in Tunica County, Mississippi. A group of blue fans, scholars, and musicians are in the process of raising $2,100 to get him a proper headstone at the Good Shepherd Church in Tunica. The Willie Brown Blues Benefit takes place September 26, 2010, in Tampa, Florida, and donations are collected there and through Paypal. Reminds us of Janis Joplin and the effort she was a part of with Juanita Green, which resulted in a permanent resting place for blues great Bessie Smith.

We commend Jason Rewald and the other fine folks at tdblues.com for this great cause and for their fantastic research, digging up census records, death certificates, and writing about Robert Johnson’s guitars, tunings, and much more. Keep it up!

Raymond Rogers (“Freaky Tah,” “Tahleek”)

Born: May 14, 1971, in Queens, New York
Died: March 28, 1999, in Queens, New York
Member of: Lost Boyz, 134 Allstars

Like the blues, hip-hop’s ethos is to create something from nothing, makin’ a way outta no way, and it’s not surprising that a lot of hip-hop’s brightest came from the front lines of urban decay.

Take New York City’s E Line to the end and get off at Jamaica in the South Queens borough. In the early nineties rappers threw down hip-hop jams in Baisley Pond Park there. One of the young men who made a name for himself was Raymond Rodgers who called himself by Freaky Tah.

Tah’s high school buddies DJ Spigg Nice, Pretty Lou, and Mr. Cheeks were there too, and the crew began to jam as a unit. The Lost Boyz appropriated its name from The Lost Boys (a teenage vampire movie that featured Echo & the Bunnymen’s version of The Doors‘ “People Are Strange” on the soundtrack).

The Boyz slung drugs to get by but quit after another dealer they knew was shot. The Lost Boyz soon debuted the single “Lifestyles Of the Rich & Shameless,” and it climbed up Billboard’s Hot 100 thanks to its hypnotic creed “some died wit the name, some die nameless, it’s all the same game, all the same pain.” Based on the single and the promise of more party jams, Uptown Records added the Lost Boyz to its roster. “Renee” followed and was included in the spoof movie Don’t Be A Menace To South Central While Drinking Your Juice In the Hood.

“Cheeks and Freaky were the star players on the team,” Pretty Lou says. Freaky Tah’s throaty voice was the response to Mr. Cheek’s call, the story’s chorus, the adlibbing backup—the hype man. “He was that big spark that started the engine,” says his brother Tito. “He loved his fans and loved being on stage.” Like Public Enemy’s Flavor Flav, Tah’s role in the group was irreplaceable. Tahleek’s deep rasp is found all over their ’96 debut Legal Drug Money; he even rocked the mike on “1,2,3.” The record is part contemplation and part celebration of the Queens they emerged from. Even the song titles speak collectively of a greater story with “Get Up,” “Music Makes Me High,” “Jeeps, Lex Coups, Bimaz & Benz,” “All Right,” “Straight From Da Ghetto,” “Da Game,” and so on.

The album commanded the top spot on the rap/hip-hop charts and climbed to number six on the Billboard 200, going gold in the process. Several cuts from Legal Drug Money charged up the singles charts, such as “Music Makes Me High,” which outsold LL Cool J, Outkast, Jay-Z, and Mary J. Blige in November ’96.

The Lost Boyz managed to stay out of the East Coast / West Coast beef that claimed the lives of Tupac Shakur, Biggie Smalls, and many others. In an otherwise bling-filled scene, the Lost Boyz pioneered plain white tees as part of the hip-hop uniform.

Tah never forgot about who he was and where he came from and invested time in prepping kids from his hood in the rap game. His crew was known as the 134 Allstars and included 50 Cent.

When Tah wasn’t hanging with his crew, he might ride the bus so he could sign autographs or pass out CDs and t-shirts. He was in the street all the time, and on his birthday he’d throw a BBQ for the south side of Queens. “That’s why 95 percent of everyone knew who Tah was,” Tito says.

In 1997, the Lost Boyz followed up with Love Peace & Nappiness and Tah stepped up on two of that album’s essential tracks “Why?” and “Get Your Hustle On,” while “My Crew” paid homage to their hood. The album went gold, and the single “Me & My Crazy World” placed in the middle of Billboard’s Hot 100 chart.

March 28, 1999, the Lost Boyz entourage celebrated Mr. Cheeks’s birthday at the Sheraton Hotel in Queens. Well after midnight Tah said goodbye and left the party. As he walked through the main doors of the hotel, a man on the street shot him in the head and escaped in a car that sped off.

Freaky Tah was pronounced dead at 4:20 a.m.; the incredible hype man was only 27 years old.

In 2001, Kelvin Jones pleaded guilty to murdering Raymond Rogers and received fifteen years to life, while driver Raheem Fletcher was sentenced to seven years for chauffeuring the getaway car.

The socially conscious Talib Kweli pays his respects in “Good Mourning” off Reflection Eternal’s 2000 album Train of Thought. He raps “Freaky Tah, rock rock on.”