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His sound is unmistakable, his stance unforgettable. Notes stream from his guitar in metallic waves, occasionally softening into a feathery whisper. His voice is that of the six-string; as if being ripped from his throat, he screams tales of love, betrayal, hope, despair and all-night bacchanalia. It’s the blues at its most raw-nerved and ferocious–but look into the musician’s face as he gyrates and bends almost in half, doubling over to the floor. He breaks into a smile, eyes glistening with childlike joy.
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