Review by Dawn
Terraplane Blues by Robert Johnson: A Delta Blues Joyride You Can’t Ignore
Alright, let’s talk about Terraplane Blues by the one and only Robert Johnson. Released in 1993 (yeah, decades after his untimely shuffle off this mortal coil), this collection is like a time machine straight to the juke joints of Mississippi. It’s raw, it’s gritty, and honestly? It’s kinda perfect.
First off, let’s get into why this album hits different. The genre here is Delta Blues, which means you’re not getting any fancy studio tricks or autotune—just a man, his guitar, and some serious soul. And oh boy, does Johnson deliver. This edition came out in France and Italy under Editions Atlas and their "Blues Collection - I Maestri Del Blues E Del Rhythm'N'Blues" series, so props to Europe for keeping the blues flame alive when America seemed busy inventing boy bands.
Now, onto the tracks that stuck with me like gum on a hot sidewalk. First up, we’ve got “Terraplane Blues.” If you don’t know what a Terraplane is, don’t sweat it—it’s just an old car. But in Johnson’s hands, it becomes something way more... suggestive. Let’s just say if cars could blush, this song would have them turning redder than a stoplight. The lyrics are cheeky, the rhythm is infectious, and every time I hear it, I can almost picture Johnson smirking while he strums. Classic.
Then there’s “Sweet Home Chicago,” which feels like the ultimate road trip anthem—if your road trip involves hitchhiking through the Depression-era South. There’s something magical about how Johnson makes longing sound so damn cool. Every note drips with yearning, but instead of feeling sad, you wanna grab your hat, hop on a train, and chase whatever dream he’s singing about. Plus, c’mon, who doesn’t love a good shout-out to Chicago?
The rest of the album? Equally fire. Tracks like “Me and the Devil Blues” will send chills down your spine faster than walking past a graveyard at midnight. Meanwhile, “Kind Hearted Woman Blues” reminds you that even bad boys have soft spots—or at least they pretend to for a verse or two.
What strikes me most about Terraplane Blues is how timeless it feels. Sure, it was recorded ages ago, but these songs still slap harder than most stuff on the radio today. Maybe it’s because Johnson wasn’t trying to be trendy; he was just laying down truth, one string at a time.
So yeah, if you’re looking for music that’s real enough to make your speakers sweat, give this album a spin. Just don’t blame me if you start hearing ghosts in the guitar riffs. Oh, and fun fact: legend has it Johnson sold his soul to the devil at a crossroads. After listening to this masterpiece, I’m starting to think the devil got the better end of that deal.
