Morgan Davis is a bluesman to the core. He grew up in Detroit, practically marinating in the early rhythm and blues of the city. Later, he cut his chops in early 70s Toronto, where he learned directly from legends like Muddy Waters, Hubert Sumlin and Howlin’ Wolf.
He delivers reminiscences about those times with such clarity you can almost smell the nicotine smoke and hear the mic’s tinny echo at those early jams.
Names slide out of him so nonchalantly it’s almost impossible to catch them all. Die-hard blues fans will recognize them as the greats of their era, and to the musical tourist, names like Bukka White, Johnny Shines and Sunnyland Slim seem almost too bluesy to be real.
“All these guys, man; so humble and no rock star attitude. Anybody in the world can walk up and talk to these guys. And if you love their music it just flips them out,” he says.
There’s a rhythm and cadence in the way Davis speaks, like he never quite stops singing the blues. And in a way that’s almost literally true.
People often talk of the road warrior—the touring artist that spends long stretches on the road and plays non-stop gigs. Davis eclipses that title: road gladiator might be a more appropriate title.
Last year, at the age of 65, he did his longest tour of his life, playing 102 gigs over 110 nights. With no roadie backing him up, he does all the driving himself, subsisting on road food and banking cash for when he gets back home.
“When I’m on the road I just burn, I keep going, but when I get home for a few days I just lay on the couch,” he says with a warm chuckle. “Blues guys don’t retire. Every single one of ‘em plays until they drop. And that’s what I aim to do.”
When Davis plays the Olive Bistro Oct. 4, it will be at the tail end of a string of gigs at house parties, and it’s just one of about 20 shows he will play this month.
He’s most comfortable on stage with just himself and a guitar, and in people’s homes—where they are there to listen, not “get drunk or get laid, or get into a fight”—where he has their full attention. He can get whisper quiet, or play with the dynamics, pushing himself as a musician and performer.
“I’ve been doing this 45 years, and I’ve never had any rock star fantasies. I don’t want to play the [huge venues], because my music doesn’t work for 10,000 people, it works in small places. And so I’m thinking small, and it’s working really well for me.”
His humility is the same he saw his heroes display, but it doesn’t mean Davis hasn’t been recognized. Over his career he’s won a Juno for blues album of the year, countless accolades from industry publications and so many Maple Blues Awards that’s it’s not even worth counting.
He doesn’t mention those, though; he seems more concerned about getting to the next gig.
Blues guys never retire, after all, and Davis won’t quit until he drops.
Trevor Nichols
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