{"id":135696,"date":"2023-06-23T06:00:00","date_gmt":"2023-06-23T13:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/acousticguitar.com\/?p=135696"},"modified":"2023-06-23T09:35:55","modified_gmt":"2023-06-23T16:35:55","slug":"remembering-roots-and-blues-legend-steve-james","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/acousticguitar.com\/remembering-roots-and-blues-legend-steve-james\/","title":{"rendered":"Remembering Roots and Blues Legend Steve James"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

The acoustic music world lost one of its most colorful figures when Steve James (aka Stephen James Cicchetti) died on January 6, 2023, at 72, of brain cancer. James was a formidable guitarist, banjoist, mandolinist, singer-songwriter, and storyteller, not to mention a skilled repair tech with a background in lutherie. Following his self-released 1980 debut, <\/em>Single Shot, James recorded a string of other solo albums, at the same time collaborating with Alvin Youngblood Hart, Cindy Cashdollar, Del Rey, and other artists, and playing live with such guitar legends as Bo Diddley and Buddy Guy. James also penned many excellent pieces for this magazine and was the author of several in-depth instructional books for Stringletter Publishing<\/em>, all imparting knowledge he gleaned directly from the source, through his friendships with older blues musicians like Sam McGee and Furry Lewis. Here, five friends and colleagues from different corners of James\u2019s musical life\u2014Ana Egge, Michael Gurian, Jorma Kaukonen, David Lusterman, and Greg Ruby\u2014offer their remembrances of the man and his music.\u00a0<\/em>\u2014Adam Perlmutter<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lover of a Good Story<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

By David Lusterman, Acoustic Guitar <\/em>founder and lifelong friend of Steve James<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"David<\/a>
David Lusterman<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Am I disobeying the injunction to speak no ill of the dead when I observe that Steve James could be, at times, a bit feisty? Sometimes with justification, like if he saw you pull a flatpick from your pocket during one of his fingerstyle guitar workshops, he might quip, \u201cYou\u2019re not planning to use that thing, are you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sometimes with malice aforethought, as when during a thankless cocktail set a pair of clearly self-besotted lovebirds requested \u201csomething by the Lovin\u2019 Spoonful\u201d\u2014no doubt expecting \u201cYou Didn\u2019t Have to Be So Nice\u201d\u2014and he gave them a raucous \u201cBald Headed Lena\u201d instead. Whether it cost him a regular gig, as Steve maintained when telling that story, will never really be known.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

During 67 years of friendship, commencing in a kindergarten classroom at P.S. 28 in Yonkers, New York, I either witnessed or heard Steve recount his responses to what he considered disrespectful situations, opportunities for mischief, and, perhaps most often, sheer, pompous, outright ignorance and its twin sibling, bottomless self-delusion.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"A<\/a>
A teenaged Stephen Cicchetti entertains some young family member. Photo courtesy of Del Rey<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Behind that feistiness, though, was Steve\u2019s most enduring and endearing trait\u2014his love of a good story, especially one with a lot of detail, a few chances for significant pauses, raised eyebrows, relevant asides, and a well-timed punchline. I might go so far as to venture that Steve\u2019s life was a search for good stories and the people who lived and told them. Just listen to one or two of his poignant, woefully under-appreciated original songs like \u201cCounty Line Road,\u201d \u201cTalco Girl\u201d [see transcription in this issue], \u201cSonny Payne,\u201d or \u201cFarewell the Roses,\u201d and the full weight of his narrative gift, to borrow one of his favorite phrases, hits you upside the head. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

In person, Steve was rowdy, loquacious, and outsized. In song, his concision is a thing of wonder. What I say sounds sentimental. What he says sounds like the Old Testament.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Born in the summer of 1950 in the Bronx, New York, he was christened Stephen Cicchetti, later confirmed in the name of Saint James, brother of John the Evangelist and the first of the apostles to be martyred. I\u2019m not sure his confirmation brought him closer to his namesake, but it might help to explain his devotion to Skip, Elmore, Etta, and other Jameses who have given life to American vernacular music.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As with millions of us, the children of fully assimilated, second-generation Americans, Steve\u2019s family evinced a sentimental attachment to the old country while essentially abandoning its culture. It\u2019s not surprising that so many of us went searching for roots in our new world home and found them in its music.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"Steve<\/a>
Steve James. Photo courtesy of Del Rey<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Unlike millions of us, though, Steve undertook that search literally. Not content to hear essential American music on record\u2014or in its denatured form on The Ed Sullivan Show<\/em>\u2014he tracked down his musical heroes in person. First in the clubs, theaters, and festivals of his native New York, and later in their homes throughout the Southern states, he absorbed their craft along with their life lessons and evolved into a complex, mature artist.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As a kid, I often went with friends down to the banks of the Bronx River to roam about and play touch football. Steve would join us on these outings, but football was not his thing: He would traipse down the banks of the river in search of flora and fauna, amphibians in particular. His joy in the natural world was a lifelong passion. While it rarely shows up overtly in his music, I think his amazing virtuosity in coaxing a mix of raucous and soothing sounds from his guitar reflects the sensitivity one sees in keen naturalists and hunters.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Steve belonged to that class of fundamentally decent, morally sophisticated, generous people who go out of their way to appear anything but. Gruff, prickly, dressed like a down-at-heels riverboat gambler, he was a font of kindness and unabashedly appreciative of the talents of others.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"David<\/a>
Steve James holding court with David Lusterman at Winter NAMM in 2010. Stringletter Media<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

What I will miss most in his absence is his bracing honesty. Yes, he loved to embroider a story. And true, he could rant with little reason. But when he looked in the mirror, he saw himself plain and acted accordingly. How many of us can do the same?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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They say this world is not our home<\/em>
There\u2019s some kind of plan we\u2019ll understand farther along<\/em>
How much farther along?<\/em>
That\u2019s what they just don\u2019t say<\/em>
If I ever get lucky, I\u2019ll meet you there<\/em>
\u2014<\/em>Steve James, \u201cCounty Line Road\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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