Malcolm White, who has been known to leave a trail of hot-tamale wrappers wherever in Mississippi his notions have nudged him, set out in search of blues players the other day. White, who books acts in Jackson and has a piece of a nightclub and aspires to open a restaurant, is something of a state celebrant; indeed, so sedulous is his enthusiasm for Mississippi that one need only ride along a few short miles listening to him before the bitterweed growing wild on the shoulders of the road begins to look like daisies. "I get homesick when I have to cross...
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