One of the last of the blues singers from the heyday of the blues in Chicago died today. Koko Taylor was 80, and died from complications from surgery.
As I have often written, I am not terribly fond of most singers, and generally prefer instrumental music. Koko was one of the exceptions, though -- if you told me I had to be stranded on an island and only listen to singers, she'd be right up there with Howlin' Wolf, Dean Martin, and Bing Crosby for me (and maybe Willie Dixon and Bon Scott).
The interviews of her that I have heard, as well as the things I have read in magazines and blues history books, led me to believe that she lacked the diva attitude and lack of respect for musicians that plagues so many singers and helps drag the music business down. She was a regular person that made it in a world where the cards were stacked against her, in a business filled with liars, cheats and backstabbers. She was, and is, an inspiring figure.
Koko's passing leaves the blues community, and America, a little less talented and a little less classy. My heart goes out to her family and friends.
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