By Emily Eveland
By Sarah Stanley-Ayre
By CP Staff
By Zach McCormick
By Jack Spencer
By Sarah Stanley-Ayre
By Rob van Alstyne
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Cedric Burnside and Lightnin' Malcolm seemingly personify the Platonic ideals of the Delta blues. Burnside explains that he was raised alongside "eight or nine" other children in a two-room house deep in the Hill Country of northern Mississippi. Also in the house? His grandfather R.L. Burnside, an iconoclastic blues legend who, before his death in 2005, taught him everything thing he knows about the blues. "We grew up without a radio," explains Burnside, a drummer. "My grandpa used to have a bunch of house parties on the weekend, he used to get all his friends together [to jam]. Later on we got a radio, but we still never listened to it that much, because he still had those house parties."
Malcolm, meanwhile, is a white guitar virtuoso who was born in Springfield, Missouri, just on the other side of the Arkansas border, but says he has drifted most of his life. "We've got a good situation now, so I haven't had to move from state to state like I used to," he says. "I used to have no house, no bed, no phone, no nothing else." Known to play both the bass and guitar parts of a song at the same time—by plugging a bass amp and a guitar amp into a single guitar and using his thumb to keep the rhythm—he speaks with a molasses-thick Southern black twang. "I looked at the guitar like it was God or something," he explains of his early obsession with his instrument. "The way some people feel about the Bible, I felt that way about the guitar."
The 34-year-old Malcolm's real first name is Steve, and the pair met after he took up R.L.'s tutelage as well. Together he and the 30-year-old Burnside form an eponymous duo who just finished recording their second album. Though they live practically off the map—Malcolm calls Holly Springs, Mississippi, home; Cedric lives about 20 miles to the southeast in an impossibly tiny town called Hickory Flat—they've slowly cultivated recognition in recent years, based on both R.L.'s legacy and their own skills. Burnside played on the soundtrack of the 2006 movie Black Snake Moan and even had a small part in the film as part of Samuel L. Jackson's band. "Craig Brewer, the [director] of the movie, he wanted to do a true story on my granddad," Burnside explains. "Everything in the movie wasn't true—to tell you the truth, not really anything was true—but it was just cool having a movie dedicated to my granddad." (So let it be known: Though R.L. once shot a man in the face, he has never held a sex-crazed Christina Ricci look-alike captive in his house.)
Burnside and Malcolm received another unlikely boost recently when, on break at a recent New Orleans show, they were told that a famous member of the audience wanted to jam with them. "They said, 'Jimmy Buffet is out there wants to play with you guys,'" Malcolm remembers. "We thought they was joking. When I saw him sitting there [in the audience] I had no idea he was a big star. He just looked like a guy who works in an office, like a tourist." They welcomed Buffet, despite the fact that Burnside had next to no idea who the guy was. "He might have played ["Margaritaville"] up there with us," he speculates. "I wouldn't have known." In any case, the multi-platinum master of the Parrotheads had such a good time he invited the guys along for three upcoming concert dates in Wisconsin and Illinois.
Having learned the drums at about age seven, Burnside has played on countless albums, including those of his grandfather and Burnside Exploration, an act that once featured him and his uncle Gary Burnside but now soldiers on in his absence. While his first CD with Malcolm, Juke Joint Duo, was self-produced, their latest, yet-unnamed album was recorded professionally in Nashville, and Burnside is extremely excited about it. Set for release on Delta Groove in October, it features original songs from both of them, all electric guitar-backed except for the tracks in which they switch instruments and Burnside plays acoustic. Burnside-penned tracks include one called "I Don't Just Think About the Blues" and a tribute to R.L., while Malcolm's contributions include a love song called "Fightin'," which he sings over the phone: "Hold me up in your arms/Make love to me before they drop the bomb."
The guys come off as affable and carefree, and they have the talking points of blues mythology down pat. "Most white people, they kind of learn the blues from rock 'n' roll," says Malcolm, who thinks he got his nickname from Lightnin' Hopkins but isn't entirely sure. "I listened to that, but when I was about eight or nine, I just happened to be around when somebody played a tape of Muddy Waters. And I heard it and said, 'What the hell is that?' I saw the tape case and saw Muddy Waters on the front. He just looked so proud and so beautiful. That's the type of person I wanted to be."