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| Jacob's 1964 album Texas Ranger hailed by critics as "A study in unintended atonality" |
Jacob Sewell was born into a life of privilege- it was 1939 in a little town south of the Mississippi called Young. At the age of 16 he eschewed the good life and ran away to the big smoke with nothing but his great grandpappy's acoustic guitar and the harmonica he stole from old man McCutchin. And a suitcase full of old money.
He purchased a modest seven bedroom chateau on the harbour and made his way to the centre of town to begin his new life as a meager troubador. The cityfolk, however, didn't yet have a taste for country and western music, a fact he deduced from the many kicks to the groin he received from irritable passers-by.
After a particularly disappointing and painful afternoon in the summer of 1956, Jacob was on his way back to the Manor when he was stopped by a swarthy stranger.
"I have been watching you young Jacob"
"How do you know my name?" Jacob asked
"I know all for I am the Devil"
"Oh, I see"
"You have been having little success young Jacob"
"It hasn't been too bad" he replied, trying not to think about his throbbing nether region "they just don't like country music."
"No, they just don't like horrible guitar playing"
"Oh, I see"
The Devil accompanied young Jacob home and they ruminated on Jacob's problem late into the night. Once Jacob and Beelzebub had imbibed an appropriate amount of 30 year old scotch and had their fill of roast pheasant and tubers, the Devil made his proposition.
"I don't really know if thisssh is appropriate to shhay thiss but I really love you Jacob"
"YES YES, i was jussht going to say that to you jussht then!" slurred young Jacob
"I want to help you, i rooooeally do" said the Devil
"I want to help you tooo!" The Devil paused
"Um, anyway... how attachshhhhed are you to your soul?!"
"Oh, yeah! I can sell you my ssshhoul to you, and you'll make me great at playing the guitar like you did with Robert Johnston right?"
"
Johnson" corrected the Devil
"Yeah, Johnston!"
"Well, i used all my wolfsbane and newt faeces on Robert so i can't do that ssshpell anymore..."
"Oh, I see."
"But maybe there'sssh something else I can do..."
The Devil explained that for the bargain price of one soul, he could grant Jacob everlasting life. In other words: the opportunity to hone his craft until the Universe's end, by which time he would surely have attained a level that no longer invited casual physical abuse. Jacob accepted and they celebrated with ramekins of candied sturgeon caviar and warm buttermilk.
Over the course of the next six decades, Jacob recorded 432 albums. His first forays into the world of recording artistry were disastrous. After his second and third albums, the venerable Daily Bugle ran with the headline: "Music is F *%@king Dead", and review after review delivered metaphoric kicks to his metaphoric groin.
Since those early attempts though, Jacob has had half a century to bud and blossom into the player he is today. Now widely regarded as the greatest guitarist of his generation(?), briscoe's members feel very honoured to count him among their number. I will post any album covers or songs i can dig up from his formidable back catalogue.
~
Just a quick note in the interests of clarification: Jacob Sewell is a real person. Jacob, who can be seen here in the act of existing, plays guitar in Briscoe. Tales of his past may contain space/time inconsistencies and supernatural exaggeration but i assure you he exists.
