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If that sounds like traditional blues territory, the next two songs (written by Album Producer Dennis Walker) find fresh ground. I Guess I Showed Her is the lament of a prideful lover who took his leave too soon ("Room 16 ain't got no view, but/ The hot plate's brand new./ I guess I showed her"), and Right Next Door (Because of Me) is a reflective apology sung by the kind of guy who usually doesn't say he's sorry: "She was right next door, and I'm such a strong persuader./ She was just another notch on my guitar./ Now she's going to lose the man who really loves her./ In the silence I can hear their breaking hearts." The sound of Strong Persuader is not the only thing that is different; not even the main thing. Cray offers a uniquely supple narrative that he wields as easily as his '64 rosewood-necked Fender Stratocaster guitar.
The man does not look far for inspiration. "The material that we call the blues," he says, "relates to my personal life." He has never married, but once lived with a woman for seven years and helped bring up her daughter. Back then he was a rover, but, he insists, "not anymore. I slowed down. It doesn't do anything but get you in a lot of trouble." Watch Cray in performance and it is easy enough to see how he could still get in harm's way. He has a voice that sounds as if he gargles with Old Grand-Dad and a sly smile that looks like an open invitation. The grin does not come easy, but upon arrival it is ! bright enough to beam ships through a fog. All that fits nicely. The blues, after all, have always been music about trouble that is only going to get you into more of the same.
Gospel was the music Cray heard first and most. Born in Georgia to a career Army man, Cray lived in West Germany and all over the U.S., settling for a time in Tacoma, where he went to high school. His father could handle a little guitar ("Three chords and a few blues licks," his son says. "Nothing to be scared of") and played lots of gospel tapes at home. The sweet, lofting sounds of the Five Blind Boys and the Dixie Hummingbirds complemented services every Sunday at the local Baptist church. Even so, Cray considered becoming an architect -- a desire that survived only three courses in mechanical drawing and one encounter with an old Muddy Waters record. Enter the blues. "It's so beautiful, the guys really believe in what they're saying," says Cray. "There's no fear at all to go for it."
He went for it. By 1974 Cray was playing backup for Blues Ace Albert Collins, who had appeared at Cray's high school graduation party three years before, and organizing his own band. It was soon performing 250 nights a year in bars from Vancouver to San Diego. Sometimes parents would come by to check out how the boys were doing. "My father and (Bass Player) Richard Cousins' mom are loud people," Cray says fondly. "You can hear them in the audience: 'Do it, son! Play that guitar! Pop a string! I'll buy you another one.' "