Sid...

A couple of days ago (May 4, 2012) I heard news of the passing of Sid Selvidge, Memphis music man, consummate artist, producer of the internationally syndicated Beale Street Caravan – and friend. Sid was also friend to the last of the great bluesmen in the known universe: Furry Lewis, Bukka White, Joe Willie Wilkins, Houston Stackhouse, to name a few. They were his mentors. They were his co-conspirators. They were his pals.  And now he’s gone, and I didn’t get to tell him how much he meant to me. A selfish feeling, really, to tell him how much his music meant to me, the times I listened and was transported. He and I shared the friendship of a lot of those “old guys” as he used to say. “I love those old guys…” Yup – you did, Sid. And they knew it too.

Sid told me about turning Furry’s guitar only to have it snatched back and re-tuned to the vagaries of Furry’s ear. Of hanging out and drinking Ten High with him out of a cracked coffee mug. Of gigs.  When Furry died, Sid and fellow Memphis music great, Lee Baker, played him out the door with When I Lay My Burden Down.  Just before that final tune, a young man stood up and berated the congregation with a rant about how people had gotten rich at Furry’s expense. In thinking about that incident, I considered how rich I had gotten through my association with him - not in coinage that would be recognized by a bank. I was enriched by his presence – like I was by that of Sid.

So…Sid and Furry and the others are someplace else. Someplace where the guitars are always in tune.  And I’m here. Missing them.