In the late 1970s and early 1980s, British blues fan Alan Harper became
a transatlantic pilgrim to Chicago. "I've come here to listen to the
blues," he told an American customs agent at the airport, and listen he
did, to the music in its many styles, and to the men and women who lived
it in the city's changing blues scene. Harper's eloquent memoir conjures
the smoky redoubts of men like harmonica virtuoso Big Walter Horton and
pianist Sunnyland Slim. Venturing from stageside to kitchen tables to
the shotgun seat of a 1973 Eldorado, Harper listens to performers and
others recollect memories of triumphs earned and chances forever lost,
of deep wells of pain and soaring flights of inspiration. Harper also
chronicles a time of change, as an up-tempo, whites-friendly blues
eclipsed what had come before, and old Southern-born black players held
court one last time before an all-conquering generation of young guitar
aces took center stage.