wes race's cryptic whalin'

yeah, there's more (i got a lot to process the other night)...
for those of you who don't know, wesley race III, born june 1947 in wichita, kansas
moved to chicago in the early '70s to be close to the epicenter of the blues
was part of a crew of bluesfans he dubbed "blues amalgamated"
members of which went on to ensure, through the record stores, labels, radio shows, magazines, etc. they started, that the music would continue to be heard for yrs 'n' yrs
was instrumental in getting hound dog taylor and son seals recorded
i usedta read his scrawl in living blues when i was a snotnose in noo yawk
and the black ppl i knew all looked down on blues as "slave bullshit"
and the white ppl i knew all thought it had something to do with led zeppelin
i encountered wes in '98 when the band i was in was hosting a benefit for the foodbank at the keys
and he got robin sylar and homer henderson to play, to my everlasting stupefaction and amazement
("mamas 88 prayer" and "shot time" originally appeared on robin's ceedees)
later on i usedta hear him declaim his poetry at the swing club at evans and allen
in between ray reed singing verses of "mr. charlie" (you know, that lightnin' hopkins toon about the st-st-st-st-stutterin' boy)
and he got me in vernon garrett's band for a minute
"luella small blues" was an account of the groupie queen of wichita which wes wrote in 1968 and once declaimed in bob and sue koester's living room
(see "hip card punched," the tale of wes' chicago apotheosis)
"lucky number dream book" is a surreal bit of socio-political rumination over a killer funk groove
"strange stuff" and "mate like a cheetah" feature homer henderson deep into his jimmy reed bag
i could let this thing spin forever, and prolly will, at least for awhile
i got to meet wes' son, wes race IV from south wichita, at j&j's the other night
he says he was a chitlin' child; "hound dog taylor was my godfather"
chip off the old block, it seems
shabam!