With his Epiphone Masterbilt, a Mississippi juke joint owner channels the ghosts of Skip James, Henry Stuckey, and other long-gone guitarists to carry an old, rare, haunting, and influential Delta sound into the present.
Before Cream recorded “I’m So Glad” in 1966, few music fans knew about the sound that emanated from the area around the rural Delta town of Bentonia, Mississippi—an elegantly cadenced, droning, minor-key blues style, mostly sung in keening falsetto, and full of songs about the Devil and hard life gone harder. But those who attended the 1964 Newport Folk Festival saw the re-emergence of its main torchbearer, Skip James, after a roughly 30-year hiatus from recording and performing. James’ Newport appearance was the perfect comeback for this mysterious-sounding variant on Delta blues. As he took the stage, it was shrouded in fog, and just as he struck the first notes of his song “Devil Got My Woman,” his voice keening in falsetto over his open-D-minor-tuned 6-string, the fog parted, and both James and the music of Bentonia were revealed once again.
Okay, maybe that’s a little florid, but the Bentonia style does have a dark romance wrapped into its sound and lore. And despite the efforts of Clapton, Bruce, and Baker, it has remained rarified—hardly heard outside of its homeland or the rooms of blues obsessives. Since 1931, when James recorded his sides for Paramount Records, there have been only four other notable practitioners: James’ mentor Henry Stuckey, who never recorded; Jack Owens and Bud Spires, who cut one album as a duo; and Jimmy “Duck” Holmes.
Holmes, at age 69, is the last man standing. He’s not as fleet or skilled a player as James, but his voice sounds every bit as old and sunbaked as the cotton fields where his parents sharecropped before opening the Blue Front Café in 1948. And he uses the same open E-minor and open D-minor tunings that have always characterized the Bentonia sound.
Today, Holmes still runs the Blue Front, and that’s where his fifth and newest album, the recently released It Is What It Is, was recorded. “Other than the town not having as many people, the Blue Front is still just like it was on day one,” Holmes says. “I used to have a pool table and even a couple video games, but I got rid of the pool table in the late ’90s. When it got to the point where the pool table crowd was crowding out the regular people just socializing, I took it out.
The life of Jimmy “Duck” Holmes and the history of the Blue Front Café are intertwined. Here, Holmes talks about both and provides the soundtrack for his narrative with his bawling, soulful voice and Epiphone Masterbilt EF 500RA guitar.
“I never had a problem with fights and people carrying on,” he continues. “I put the first pay phone [in town] in there. It was right by the bar. When I took it over in 1970, I had a strict policy and everyone knew that I didn’t mess around. If people get rowdy or start a fight, everyone knows I’ll drop a dime on them. It took about six months for everyone to realize and after that it’s been smooth sailing.”
That’s 46 years of serene navigation, but it wasn’t until 2006, when Holmes cut his debut album Back to Bentonia, that his career as a musician caught a broader wind and he became a regular at festivals in the U.S. and Europe. It Is What It Is is state of the Duck—nine tracks that draw on his life and times in rural Mississippi, as well as the haunting sound of the blues that has long echoed across the flatlands of his hometown. They include “It Had to Be the Devil,” long a staple of the Bentonia blues songbook, and the practical philosophy of the title track, as well as the reflective “It Is What It Was.” Holmes pairs droning chords plucked out on his Epiphone Masterbilt acoustic, or an electric guitar that sounds plugged into a ’50s car radio, with his lonesome, bawling-calf voice—a marvelous, elemental bray. For him, like any true juke joint rambler, tuning, tone, and precision aren’t as important as to-the-bone-honesty and vibe. And It Is What It Is is packed with both. Especially vibe. Listening to the album is as close as you can get to an authentic, old-school juke joint today without exploring the nearly forgotten corners of the deep South.
And even those corners have changed. Reminiscing about his native town, Holmes says, “It used to be that most of the black people in the community worked as farm laborers or did something on the farm. Now, hardly anyone works on the land farming. Machines do all the work now. There’s not 10 black people working in the field. And there were a lot more people who played music, including the blues. People didn’t look at it back then like they look at it now. For an individual to play a guitar back then was something common. But to know someone who plays blues music now, it raises eyebrows. Back then you had several blues guitar players, harmonica players, stuff like that, here. They all weren’t on the same level, but they were in the community playing.”
Holmes seriously committed to guitar in the late ’70s, when Jack Owens took him under wing. Like Skip James, Owens had learned to play the Bentonia blues style from Henry Stuckey. “I’d always had an ambition to learn to play the guitar,” says Holmes. “Not necessarily blues guitar. I was sort of drafted into it. Jack really wanted me to learn how to play the Bentonia style of blues he learned from Stuckey.”
One reason the Bentonia style is relatively obscure is that its main practitioners never cared to travel, as Robert Johnson, Charley Patton, and other Delta blues proponents did. The Bentonians had farm jobs and families that kept them tied to their homes. And James, who auditioned for Paramount in Jackson, Mississippi, and recorded his historic sides for the label in Grafton, Wisconsin, gave up the music business after his 78s tanked during the onset of the Great Depression. Until his comeback, he split his time between farming, serving as choir director of a local church, and the ministry.
As for the unrecorded Stuckey, who seems to be the linchpin of the Bentonia style, Holmes explains that he “was a devoted family man. He had a big family and wasn’t going to leave to go play the guitar on the weekends until he was sure his family had what they needed, their groceries were made, and they were okay. Then he’d go play guitar and make some money and be back and ready to work on Monday. He was a farmer. He sharecropped with my dad. He wasn’t real tall, but he was a big man, like a boxer. Big boned. Big muscles in his arms and shoulders. He kind of strutted when he walked. By looking at him, you’d think he would have had a deep voice, but when you heard him talk you’d think it was a different person. That’s why he could sing up there like Skip and Jack did.”
Skip James’ take on Bentonia blues is definitive. Here, he performs in the “blues house” at the 1966 Newport Folk Festival for an audience that includes Howlin’ Wolf (at right) and Mississippi John Hurt (behind James). He’s playing one of his signature songs, “Devil Got My Woman.” His highly original, keening vocal approach and his intricate picking are on display.
Holmes began to tinker with the guitar in the early ’60s, on Stuckey’s old instrument—“just hitting the strings, just making a sound. Then for Christmas my daddy bought me a little yellow-and-black plastic guitar. That was my first guitar that I owned for myself. I broke the first set of strings on it and never did get any new strings, so it kind of got pushed to the side.
“Then in 1963, I visited my uncle in New York and he had a guitar. It was electric and that kind of rekindled the fire a little bit. I messed around with the guitar again when I visited the next couple summers. But then after that, I really didn’t mess with it until around 1972.”
At that point, Holmes was more under the sway of Tommy West, a bluesman from the Mississippi hill country above Batesville and Oxford. The hill country is home to yet another distinctive regional style, based on one-chord drones, band arrangements that pass combined rhythm-and-melody lines from instrument to instrument, and intense rhythmic drive—even in its guitar solos.The most famous, modern-day proponents of Mississippi's hill country sound are the late R.L. Burnside and Junior Kimbrough, who followed in the footsteps of Fred McDowell.
“Then, around ’76 or ’77, Jack started coming by the Blue Front a little more,” Holmes continues. “I think it must have been around ’74 or ’75 that I actually bought my first guitar. I don’t know what kind of guitar it was, but I bought it at RadioShack. As a matter of fact, that’s my guitar on display at [Clarksdale, Mississippi’s] Delta Blues Museum. So from then on, I’d play with the local blues musicians and these old guys would come to the Blue Front. Jack, Tommy, Bud, Cornelius Bright, Dodd Stuckey, and others would come by. As soon as they heard that Carey Holmes’ son, Duck, at the Blue Front, had a guitar—they started hanging here. They’d take turns playing my guitar. Dodd Stuckey, Henry’s brother, showed me how to make music rubbing the broom handle on the floor. Adam Slater was the first one to show me about the open tuning. I wasn’t particularly interested in playing the guitar, but he would come by most every day and he would ask me if I’d learned anything. I would tell him ‘yeah,’ but I probably hadn’t even picked it up. Cornelius would come in and say, ‘Where your box at? Let me fool with it a minute.’ He’d pick it up and I’d go sit outside. If I had shown him the interest I later had with Jack when he started teaching me, I would’ve picked it up a lot earlier. Cornelius could play. And he had a great voice. Great voice.
“Then in the ’80s, when Jack really started to teach me, he really wanted me to learn it. He couldn’t read or write and he didn’t know what any of the notes were, but he would play and just tell me, ‘Watch my hands, boy. Watch my hands.’”
In an excerpt from Robert Mugge’s 1991 documentary Deep Blues, narrator Robert Palmer talks about Bentonia’s devil-song tradition before introducing the team of Jack Owens and Bud Spires. Owens is playing his 12-string Kay with only six strings, and his singing reflects the high-and-lonesome influence of both Henry Stuckey and Skip James.
Owens remained the region’s preeminent stylist, driving himself to gigs, sipping whiskey, and telling stories nearly right until his death at age 94 in 1997. And then Holmes began to get more of those gigs, at places like the Sunflower River Blues and Gospel Festival in Clarksdale, and eventually, around the world.
Asked about his preferred guitars, Holmes says, “I’ve never been too choicy about that. I know some are probably better than others, but my main concern is if I can get it tuned right and get the right sound coming from it. It don’t normally make me no difference. But right now I play this Epiphone Masterbilt EF 500RA. I’ve played it most every day here at the Blue Front or at festivals since maybe 2006. It has the best sound of any guitar I’ve ever picked up. To me, it sounds exactly like the hollow box that Henry Stuckey played. That’s the guitar I played most of the new album on.
“Part of the sound,” Holmes asserts, “comes from the strings. When Jack was teaching me to play, he swore by Black Diamond strings. He wouldn’t play anything else. That’s the sound I got used to, so that’s probably why I prefer them today. But to really play the Bentonia style, you need a slick G. It’s unwound so your finger isn’t swiping the grooves when you slide. Stuckey’s guitar was a big-bodied mahogany guitar with a deep, full sound. This Masterbilt isn’t near as big, but it sounds just as full. I’ve had people try to give me a guitar, but, nah, I’ll stick with this Masterbilt.”
The decidedly janglier sounding “Love Alone” on It Is What It Is was played on a 1972 Eko Ranger 12-string. “That’s the exact same year and model that Jack played,” Holmes reports, “but he only had six strings on it. He liked that wide neck and the extra space for his fingers so he wouldn’t smother two strings out with those big fingers. I’ve never liked electric guitars much. I don’t care for those solidbodies with all the extra features, like a whammy bar, reverb, and all that. But I do like that ’58 Harmony Stratotone Jupiter that I played on “It Had to Be the Devil” and “Buddy Brown” for the new album. It’s got its own sound. It’s not fancy, but I like it.”
Holmes has his own opinion on Bentonia’s open tunings. “Now, some like to say that Bentonia tuning is an open E-minor or open D-minor. I’ll tune the guitar to a straight open D-minor if other people are playing so the harp can get lined up,” he says. “But if it’s just me, I’ll tune it down from there, too. I don’t know how it’s actually tuned, you know—if it’s a B or D or something. I just tune it by ear to what I was taught. I let other people argue about what to call the tuning. To learn this music, the first thing is you gotta want to do it. Don’t worry about making a mistake; roll on. Play every day, learn the fundamentals, and then play from your heart.”
With no other players currently recording or performing in public in the Bentonia style, is Holmes the last of his musical lineage? “I think a lot about that,” he says. “Like Jack did for me, making sure I learned how to play, I would like to do that for a few people. My nephew, Larry Allen, lived next door to Jack forever. As a little kid he’d go over and listen to Jack’s stories and listen to Jack play. Jack showed Larry how to play, but Larry hasn’t played the guitar for a long time because he works a lot. He’s definitely getting it, but he hasn’t had the time. He’s going to be good.
“I also feel like my grandson, E.J., is coming along. I could send for him right now and he’d be able to play what I’ve taught him. I don’t want to push it on him. I don’t want to make it a chore or make it boring. He’s going to get it. It just takes practice.”
And Holmes intends to carry the torch for as long as possible. “I thank God for being blessed enough to be able to have the opportunity to play a kind of blues people enjoy,” he says. “I really just want to create music that stays true to those old guys who taught me and that people appreciate. I’ve never cared for being famous or wealthy. I just want to leave behind a positive example and impression. That’s it.”
Nineties-style high-gain heaviness that can be surgically tailored with a powerful EQ.
Excellent variations on high-gain modern distortion tones. Powerful EQ.
Not many low- or mid-gain sounds here.
$199
JHS Hard Drive
jhspedals.com
JHS makes many great and varied overdrive stomps. Their Pack Rat is a staple on one of my boards, and I can personally attest to the quality of their builds. The new Hard Drive has been in the works since as far back as 2016, when Josh Scott and his staff were finishing off workdays by jamming on ’90s hard rock riffs.
During these sessions, Scott’s go-to pedal was the Ibanez SM7 Smash Box. He realized that JHS had never offered anything along those lines, conferred with his then lead engineer, Cliff Smith, and the wheels were set in motion. Over several years of design, the Hard Drive evolved from an SM7 homage to a unique, original circuit.
JHS’ Hardest to Date
The Hard Drive’s control panel is streamlined, consisting of knobs for volume, mid frequency, drive, bass, middle, and treble. Driven by cascading gain stages, the Hard Drive can cop a wide range of modern distorted tones. Even at the lowest drive settings, the Hard Drive simmers, delivering massive bottom end on muted power chords. Nudging the drive up very slightly transforms the Hard Drive into a roaring Marshall JCM 900. And if you bring the drive all the way up, you’re in for all out chaos. Even with an amp set just louder than bedroom levels, the Hard Drive, with its volume at just 11 o’clock, is very loud and in-your-face. You don’t have to work hard to imagine how this could sound and feel like multiple stacks raging at Madison Square Garden in the context of a recorded track.
Even at the lowest drive settings, the Hard Drive simmers, delivering massive bottom end.
Zoning the Frequencies
Unlike some heavy pedals that concern themselves with mega-gain and little else, the Hard Drive’s EQ controls are very effective and powerful. Moving the treble knob from 11 o’clock to 1 o’clock changes the pedal’s tone and response characteristics completely, opening up and transforming the naturally relatively dark sound of my Fender Super Sonic amp. Turning the treble knob all the way off with the bass and mid knobs at noon gives me a vocal lead tone that’s creamy, warm, and still immediate and responsive.
The middle and mid frequency controls work in tandem. The mid control itself works as a cut or boost. The mid frequency control, however, lets you choose the specific frequency you cut or boost. I found these controls invaluable for sculpting tones that could leverage the copious gain without being abrasive. Meanwhile, adding more high midrange lends clarity to complex chords.
The Verdict
The Hard Drive is an unapologetically heavy pedal—if you’re looking for a dirt box that can double as a clean boost, well, the Hard Drive is not that. It’s meant to slay with gain, and it performs this task well and with a vengeance. There are countless dirt boxes on the market that deliver hot rodded, ’80s-style brown sound. Fewer cater to the subsequent generations of high-gain players that used the ’80s as a mere jumping-off point. The Hard Drive is very much voiced for this strain of heavy music. If that’s your jam, the Hard Drive is hard to beat.
Tailored for Yngwie Malmsteen's signature sound, the MXR Yngwie Malmsteen Overdrive is designd to offer simple controls for maximum impact.
Working closely alongside Yngwie, the MXR design team created a circuit that delivers clarity, expressive dynamics, and rich harmonics—all perfectly tailored for his light-speed arpeggios, expressive vibrato, and big, bold riffs. The control setup is simple, with just Level and Gain knobs.
"Want to sound like Yngwie? Crank both knobs to the max."
“This pedal is the culmination of 45+ years developing a sound that’s perfect in every possible way,” Yngwie says. “I present to you: the MXR Yngwie Malmsteen Overdrive. Prepare to be amazed.”
MXR Yngwie Malmsteen Overdrive highlights:
- Perfectly tailored for Yngwie Malmsteen's signature sound and style
- Simple control setup tuned for maximum impact
- Boost every nuance with superior clarity, expressive dynamics, and rich harmonics
- Dig into light-speed arpeggios, expressive vibrato, and big, bold riffs
The MXR Yngwie Malmsteen Overdrive is available now at $129.99 street/$185.70 MSRP from your favorite retailer.
For more information, please visit jimdunlop.com.
Voltage Cable Company's new Voltage Vintage Coil 30-foot guitar cable is now protected with ISO-COAT technology to provide unsurpassed reliability.
The new coiled cables are available in four eye-grabbing retro colors – Surf Green, Electric Blue, Orange and Caramel – as well as three standard colors: Black, White and Red. There is also a CME exclusive “Chicago Cream” color on the way.
Guitarists can choose between three different connector configurations: straight/straight plugs, right angle/straight and right angle/right angle options.
The Voltage Vintage Coil offers superior sound quality and durability thanks to ISO-COAT treatment, a patent-pending hermetic seal applied to solder terminations. This first-of-its-kind airtight seal prevents corrosion and oxidization, a known factor in cable failure and degradation. ISO-COAT protected cables are for guitarists who value genuine lifetime durability and consistent tone throughout their career on stage and in the studio.
Voltage cables are hand made by qualified technical engineers using the finest components available and come with a lifetime warranty.
Voltage Vintage Coil features include:
- Lifetime guarantee, 1000+ gig durability
- ISO-COAT treatment - corrosion & oxidization resistant cable internals
- Strengthened structural integrity of solder terminations
Voltage Vintage Coils carry $89.00 USD pricing each and are available online at voltagecableco.com, as well as in select guitar stores in North America, Australia, Thailand, UK, Belgium and China.
About Voltage Cable: Established in 2021, Voltage Cable Co. is a family owned and operated guitar cable company based in Sydney, Australia. All their cables are designed to be played, and built for a lifetime. The company’s ISO-COAT is a patent pending hermetic seal applied to solder terminations.
Featuring dual-engine processing, dynamic room modeling, and classic mic/speaker pairings, this pedal delivers complete album-ready tones for rock and metal players.
Built on powerful dual‑engine processing and world‑class UAD modeling, ANTI 1992 High Gain Amp gives guitarists the unmistakable sound of an original "block letter" Peavey 5150 amplifier* – the notorious 120‑watt tube amp monster that fueled more than three decades of modern metal music, from Thrash and Death Metal, to Grunge, Black Metal, and more.
"With UAFX Dream, Ruby, Woodrow, and Lion amp emulators, we recreated four of the most famous guitar amps ever made," says UA Sr. Product Manager Tore Mogensen. "Now with ANTI, we're giving rock and metal players an authentic emulation of this punishing high gain amp – with the exact mic/speaker pairings and boost/noise gate effects that were responsible for some of the most groundbreaking modern metal tones ever captured."
Key Features:
- A complete emulation of the early '90s 120‑watt tone monster that defined new genres of modern metal
- Powerful UAFX dual-engine delivers the most authentic emulation of the amp ever placed in a stompbox
- Complete album‑ready sounds with built‑in noise gate, TS‑style overdrive, and TC‑style preamp boost
- Groundbreaking Dynamic Room Modeling derived from UA's award-winning OX Amp Top Box
- Six classic mic/speaker pairings used on decades of iconic metal and hard rock records
- Professional presets designed by the guitarists of Tetrarch, Jeff Loomis, and The Black Dahlia Murder
- UAFX mobile app lets you access hidden amp tweaks and mods, choose overdrive/boost, tweak noise gate, recall and archive your presets, download artist presets, and more
- Timeless UA design and craftsmanship, built to last decades
For more information, please visit uaudio.com.