In 2003, John Clarke in The Times wrote that “Dark Was the Night, Cold Was the Ground” was “the most intense and startling blues record ever made”. Francis Davis, author of The History of the Blues concurs, writing “In terms of its intensity alone—its spiritual ache—there is nothing else from the period to compare to Johnson’s ‘Dark Was the Night, Cold Was the Ground’, on which his guitar takes the part of a preacher and his wordless voice the part of a rapt congregation.”
I had a terrible day. We say it all the time. A fight with the boss, the stomach flu, traffic. That’s what we describe as terrible when nothing terrible is happening.
These are the things we beg for. A root canal, an IRS audit, coffee spilled on our clothes. When the really terrible things happen, we start begging a god we don’t believe in to bring back the little horrors and take away this. It seems quaint now, doesn’t it? The flood in the kitchen, the poison oak, the fight that leaves you shaking with rage. Would it have helped if we could see what else was coming? Would we have known that those were the best moments of our lives