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An Interview with Mississippi Heat’s
Pierre Lacocque
By Clara Lehmann
On a rainy Saturday in Chicago, Mississippi Heat’s Pierre Lacocque took
an afternoon off from his music to answer a few questions. A
generous gesture assuredly because the man consciously searches and
yearns for every chance he gets to practice his craft:
the blues. Twenty years
since Mississippi Heat’s founding, Lacocque has released
Delta Bound (2012) on Delmark Records (DE 823), his tenth album to
date. Lacocque wields the harmonica, “the mother of the band”, and
he serves as Mississippi Heat’s bandleader. A Belgian man living
in Chicago since 1969 - with a six-year stint in Montréal, Québec
between 1970-1976 - Lacocque describes the urgency with which he pursues
the blues sound with his “Mississippi Saxophone.” And while his
French accent and his doctorate in psychology may make him a unique
member of the community, Lacocque has found his home in the blues.
Enjoy the interview!
Q: Why the name Mississippi Heat?
Lacocque: It took a while to come up with the name “Mississippi Heat”.
When I was considering a name for the band, I was looking for something
catchy that reflected the soul of the music that I love. The
Chicago Blues’ origins derive from the Mississippi Delta, where an
enormous amount of Chicago blues musicians came from. Due to
economical restraints, many Delta musicians moved North for work so they
came to places like Memphis or Chicago. The Chicago Blues sound
developed a unique and amplified electric sound from its acoustic
origins.
As a harmonica player I knew of several nicknames for the instrument,
like the “mouth organ” or the “Mississippi Saxophone.”
Furthermore, some of the original members of my band hailed from
Mississippi like Robert Covington, for instance. For all of these
reason, I had a tender connections to the state and to the word
“Mississippi.”
The word “Heat” is an image my son Jonathan came up with. He was
nine years old at the time! We were looking at a variety of words or
images connected with “Mississippi.” I wanted a word that would
invoke passion, inspiration, and the urgency I feel about this music. At
some point Jonathan came to me and said, “Hey Dad, what about ‘Heat’?”
It was an ah-ha moment, and it stuck. So, we went with
“Mississippi Heat.”
Ultimately, I wanted to honor the roots of the Chicago Blues, which is
my first love. So, my music has an electric sound while honoring
the Delta acoustic soul.
Q: Can you describe the Mississippi Delta blues?
Lacocque:
Originally, it was “field sounds.” Blues developed during a time
of brutal up rootedness and pain, for African Americans – during
slavery. Blues music was played at parties or get-togethers after
work was done, and when the slave-owners weren’t around. Delta
blues were acoustic and the harmonica always played a crucial role.
First of all, the harmonica was not expensive and it was also easy to
carry. The three instruments most commonly included were the
acoustic guitar, harmonica, and piano. But the harmonica, with its
ability to wail, served as a second voice. In fact, Otis Span, a
legendary piano player with Muddy Waters, said, “The harmonica is the
mother of the band.” It has a central, irreplaceable sound.
A piano is also important to the Delta sound but it was more difficult
to find. If you had been a traveling blues man or woman, a piano
would likely be present at a venue but could not be carried from bar to
bar. The guitar and harmonica, on the other hand, were naturally
more accessible and easily transported.
Q: Have you recorded a solely acoustic album?
Lacocque:
I have not recorded an acoustic album yet, but I would like to. More and
more I am attracted to the acoustic harmonica sound. It takes so
long to harness the harmonica’s tone! I am at a stage in my life
now that I’m confident with my tone. Tone is everything to me along
with phrasing and melody. But tone is difficult to refine.
Especially without the artifices
of amplification, such as distortions and compression.
To this day I’m still working on my tone. In fact, I work on it
daily. To develop tone, for example, I practice by holding a
vibrating note for as long as I can. I constantly practice on how
to work on certain reeds to reflect a specific mood. Yes, at this
point, an acoustic album would be appealing to me. I still love
the electric sound and that’s what changed my life, frankly. I
heard Big Walter playing the amplified harmonica in 1969 and that
experience changed my life forever. The sound of his harmonica
from his Fender Princeton amplifier was so warm and welcoming. It
sounded like a tenor saxophone!
Q: You mentioned how the harmonica is warm, and you quoted Otis
Span who called it ‘the mother of the band.’ There are a lot of symbols
of the female in the words you use to describe the harmonica. Why
is that?
Lacocque: Yes, there is obviously a connection between the harmonica
and a woman’s spirit in my music. But I look at it far beyond
simply male and female distinctions. It integrates both sexes.
For me the harmonica has more of a spiritual dimension in that it
incorporates the total human: the feminine and masculine sides of me.
Also, when I write lyrics, I
write from a female perspective.
I don’t sing and my band’s lead singer is a woman: Inetta Visor.
I’ve always had a female vocalist –like Deitra Farr, Katherine Davis,
and Zora Young -except in the very beginning of my band’s existence,
when Robert Covington led the band on vocals. In passing, it needs to
be emphasized that like Ronnie Earl, Anson Funderburgh, and very few
other bandleaders, I indeed don’t sing.
There are even fewer bandleader harmonicists who don’t sing.
Dennis Gruenling comes to mind.
I write the majority of Mississippi Heat’s songs, so I tailor them, when
necessary, to a female vocalist. But as I said, beyond the
male/female distinctions, I typically write from the human condition’s
point of view. Then, once it’s written I consider who will be
singing the song and adapt it to that person. “Betty Sue” (from
Delmark’s Let’s Live It
Up! DE 807) was written
for John Primer, for instance. So the lyrics are here written form a
male point of view. When Inetta sings that song live she alters the
lyrics to come from a female point of view! Another song, one that
hopefully will be recorded on our next album, is called “I Need Me a
Working Man.” It was written for Inetta. So that one didn’t need any
tailoring since it was written specifically for her. A song called
“Sweet Ol’ Blues” (from Delta
Bound) is autobiographical, but it didn’t need to be tailored to a
female voice because it has a universal message. “Sweet Ol’ Blues”
has to do with suffering and how you manage the pain and loneliness in
life. “Once loneliness was my enemy but now it is my friend.”
It is completely relevant to my life. Indeed, practically every
day I thank God that at this juncture in my life I can integrate the
deep and dark side of my self constructively. I do look at my pain
now as a friend rather than as an enemy. Finally, another song
that didn’t need tailoring, also on
Delta Bound, is called “My
Mother’s Plea.” This song is profoundly personal, and yet it
speaks universally because it is about a mother’s last wishes for her
children and family. For me, “My Mother’s Plea” is one of my most
private songs, as it is about my mother who had recently passed away.
Yet its message goes beyond the male and the female perspectives.
Q: When you express yourself through the lyrics and through the
harmonica, you must make yourself vulnerable. How, over the years,
have you been able to navigate between expressing yourself to thousands
of people while maintaining a piece of yourself that is private?
Lacocque: On the one hand, I am a shy and introverted man. For
instance, while traveling on the road with the band, I am known for my
desire to be left to myself at night, especially after a gig. I
just like to be alone at the end of the day. There is a side of me
that likes solitude. But the amazing thing about music is its
ability to heal and its ability to build a communal spirit. I
enjoy playing on stage because I feel good playing with the band. I get
energized and feel a communion with the crowd. I do appreciate when
someone comes to me and gives me a positive emotional response to our
music or to my harmonica playing. It touches me and it validates
my work. I regard our fans and public as friends. Yes, I reveal lots
about me in interviews like this one, or through my lyrics, yet I don’t
think I am talking about things other people do not experience in their
own life. The sense of not
fitting in, of searching for meaning, or of experiencing loneliness are
examples of that.
One amazing thing that continues to baffle me is how an audience
welcomes a musician’s crying and/or playing from his or her guts.
As an artist, you are given a free license to cry and express what’s in
the deep and sometimes dark corners of your soul!
The more emotion the better as
long as it is expressed artistically and with some mastery.
It’s quite acceptable within all
the arts, certainly within the blues idiom. With blues music I
feel understood, accepted for who I am. What matters is to communicate
what’s in the soul. And look at
me -- I’m a white guy, I am a Belgian, I am European. I have a
French accent. I come from a conservative, rigid Judeo-Christian
background. Both my father and paternal grandfather were
Protestant ministers. At first,
and even at second glance, I do not belong in the blues world. And
yet, I do so completely! The blues understands me. I fit in.
At the same time, I want to respect and honor the African-American
heritage from which blues derives. Am I African-American?
No I am not. Am I moved by their suffering and what they
have, or had to endure? Absolutely. Am I moved by the genius
behind their inspiration? Definitely. The blues, like the Bible,
reflects existential emotions that transcend a particular culture or
historical context. It speaks to me, to my heart, and to my soul.
It has a universal message.
In fact, the blues music (and its lyrics) explores what I hid from
myself. The blues accepts the very thing I feared about myself
growing up! I felt shame for being me, I was convinced that I was
a dumb child, a disappointment to my family.
Frankly, I felt like an absolute
failure. My torment was so devastating that I didn’t think I was going
to survive my adolescence. I never thought I would become an
adult. I would end it myself. I
really thought I was going to die young. I just didn’t have “it.”
But it is amazing over the years how things have changed. When I
first played music in the late 60’s, early ‘70’s, it was devastating --
excruciating. Early in my career, the music did not heal me.
My sad moods worsened. It triggered a sense of profound aloneness
in the world. After six years of
intense playing, I stopped cold turkey. For
about fourteen years! From 1976 to 1989, I didn’t play. There was
unfinished personal psychological business I needed to deal with,
understand, and work through. So for years I turned to books on
existentialism, theology, philosophy, literature, history of religions,
etc. to try to understand my depressed and shattered affective states
(feeling estranged, experiencing panic attacks, ashamed, unworthy to be
seen in social settings, etc.). Reading
and studying helped me so much. I went the intellectual route,
reading, writing, publishing, going to university for advanced degrees
in psychology and so forth. Then, in the late 1980’s I came back
to playing the harmonica with an urgent need to create music again.
And it was a totally different experience from my earlier years. I
was able to contain and manage my feelings.
Q: Why is it that you came back to music after the fourteen-year
hiatus?
Lacocque: Eventually meeting Vickie, my wife, was a grounding
experience. She stabilizes me. And of course, having
children that I adore was, and remains, most meaningful! Not to
mention that I have lovable godchildren, nieces and nephews. In my
heart, I always wanted to have roots, a place I could call “home.”
Having Vickie and the children was psychologically and spiritually
grounding. And my relationship
with my siblings and parents became stronger. My conservative
family supported my need to return to music.
It surprised the heck out of me.
But I was relieved. Delighted.
They seemed even more excited about that than they had been about my
career as a psychologist! Their support never wavered ever since. I
assume they saw how happy and transformed I became.
Q: Returning to that feeling of home you get from the blues, I
understand you moved a lot as a child. How has that informed your
yearning for a home that you have found in the blues?
Lacocque: I was born in Jerusalem, Israel. My parents are
Christians, though we are also profoundly attracted to Jewish philosophy
and theology. From Israel we
moved to Germany, because my father was a chaplain in the Belgian army;
then to Alsace, France for a few
years. After that, in 1957, we went to Belgium for six years,
returned to Israel for a year (1962), then back to Belgium for five
years, and finally we all immigrated to the United States in 1969.
One year later and for the next six years (1970-1976), while my parents
and siblings stayed in Chicago, I went to study psychology in Montreal,
Canada. I finally returned to Chicago in 1976. I have been in The
Windy City ever since. This theme of being uprooted from Belgium is so
real for me. The first time I lived in or visited Belgium was when I
was around five years old. My ancestors on both sides of the
family hail from Belgium. Living
in so many different cultures and eventually attending a Jewish orthodox
school in Brussels from Kindergarten and up, was difficult for my two
siblings and me. At least initially.
My family was not Jewish so my
siblings and I were the only non-Jewish students in that school, and
ever since. So, it made sense that I eventually asked myself, “Who
am I really?” Not only psychologically speaking, but also religiously.
In addition to not knowing who I was, life at home was very difficult.
I didn’t feel a sense of security at home or at school.
All of this together, made me
question whether I could survive and make it into adulthood.
I have to give credit to my dad for offering me the love of music.
Besides giving me a harmonica
when I was around two and a half years old (in Neuviller, Alsace) , he
would play records at home. I could see how peaceful and content it
made him feel. We got to
appreciate Ella Fitzgerald, Clara Ward, Sidney Bechet, Myriam Makeba,
and Dave Brubeck. Most of them were of African-descent. I also
enjoyed Aretha Franklin, Ray Charles, and Otis Redding.
My mother was a great mom. Her
parents were also kind to me. My maternal grandmother made me feel
lovable. I did have a few friends at the Ecole Maimonides in
Brussels, but not many. But the teachers - and my peers’ parents
especially - often reminded my siblings and me that we were not Jewish.
We sometimes were made to feel that we didn’t belong at the Athénée
Maimonides. In fact, while at
Maimonides my brother Michel won an award in Liturgy in one of his
religious Jewish classes. The school was to give him the award
publically at a ceremony at the end of the academic year. But the
headmaster of the school took it away from him, without telling him, and
instead gave it to someone else because he was not Jewish.
Humiliating to my then 13 year-old brother!
Embarrassing also to the person who was given the award, since
the scores had already been publicly displayed with her clearly in
second place. She, however,
expressed her embarrassment to him as she knew she did not deserve it.
But it was also upsetting to our parents who had received an
earlier congratulatory phone call from that very same headmaster.
This discrimination was sometimes a part of our experience there, though
I felt our classmates were good to us. Some
are still part of our lives today. It
remains that it was difficult growing up: I felt homeless. And
look at me now. I’m a non-African American man fully invested into
this foreign world called the blues. As I said I now feel at home
– certainly at home on a soulful level.
Q: Music is a universal language and it speaks to you obviously.
Lacocque: Yes, and many African American bluesmen and women have
accepted me. I have received touching and validating comments from
legendary blues musicians. It means the world to me.
For me, playing music is a
necessity not a luxury. Few
people get this point, including artists’ wives or husbands.
Many of my musician friends
consistently tell me the same disappointment when it comes to their
significant other.
Blues is a language that continues to evolve. I’m never satisfied
with what I achieve, or whatever skill I have mastered. This is very
good as it keeps me on my toes! And I often say to myself, “How
long will God give me this gift” because inspiration is not something
that you order on command. My wish to create and work on my craft
may die right now, or any time soon after. It is an unfathomable
gift. I am thankful for having a youthful urgency to create. I’m
already working on our next album. I
love composing and writing lyrics. The creative process for me is
like life itself: an excitingly
unfolding towards new discoveries. Along with my family, music
gives me purpose, hope, and meaning.
Q: Let’s talk about your creative process. How do you
harness that inspiration and creativity?
Lacocque: I
allow myself to clear my mind. The
best creative time for me is when I’m alone, especially in the car, and
can entertain myself by playing the harmonica and thinking about the
next performance. I’m always exploring new ideas. I try to
write melodies down as they come. I do the same with lyrics for
songs. We rarely record or perform cover tunes.
You know, I do not read music, but I have learned the notes on
each of my harmonicas. As a bandleader I have had to know my notes
and a bit of music theory as I often rehearse with my musicians before
going on stage. So, knowing the name of my notes became a
necessity to explain bass lines or melodies on the spur of the moment.
I also find it inspiring to listen to my favorite blues musicians like
Jimmy Rogers, Jimmy Reed, Muddy Waters, Otis Span, and Little or Big
Walter. I listen to these guys and just jam with their recordings.
I do this for many purposes. One, it helps me improve my tone,
riffs and phrasings. I pay enormous attention to the harmonica as
a background instrument. I always try to be a part of the ensemble
without interfering with the singer or the guitar player so that we can
all contribute uniquely. If I listen to an album wherein a
harmonica plays, like with Sonny Boy Williamson or James Cotton, I come
up with a second harmonica line and harmonize to their contribution.
It is an intimate conversation. Along these lines, I love to play
the harmonica as a horn would play. I
am often told that I play like a saxophone player.
Buddy Guy mentioned it on stage
at his club last week.
Years ago, as my brother Michel pointed out to me many times, I was a
sideman in my own band. In the early years of Mississippi Heat, an
all-star cast – an ensemble more experienced than I - surrounded me.
The stars included Robert
Covington, Billy Flynn, James Wheeler, Bob Stroger, Deitra Farr, and
more. In the very beginning it was a humbling experience.
I had never had my own band. I learned so much as a
sideman. As strange as this may
sound, one of the things that I learned is how to use silence.
No notes are sometimes better
than a flurry of riffs.
Q: It sounds like you made a really good decision and surrounded
yourself with the best, even if you weren’t the best at that time.
Lacocque: As I said, it was humbling. And to this day I still
aim to get musicians that are better than I am. If I can include
musicians that are better than I in the band, I’m a happy guy. I
love it when Billy Satterfield, Lurrie Bell, or Carl Weathersby play
with me. I enjoy their genius. Kenny Smith or Andrew Thomas
on drums, Brian Quinn or Andre Howard on bass, Chris “Hambone” Cameron
or Johnny Iguana on keys.
They are awesome at what they do.
Q: I’ve noticed when you play on stage as a group that your band
is aware of you as a leader. They pay attention to your hand
gestures, and I’ve noticed you give the stage up to every single band
member if they’d like a solo and if they are comfortable with being
center stage.
Lacocque: Absolutely. I
feel respected and appreciated as a band leader.
If my band members are
comfortable with the limelight, I happily share it with them. I am a
true ensemble man and I enjoy the whole sound the band creates.
Every part is as important as the other.
I also like to integrate other people’s solos into our shows when
I can. But sometimes, for instance, Kenny Smith, who is a
phenomenal drummer, does not like to do so.
When he does, he always blows me
away. But he is not interested in soloing, and feels he can
express himself better by staying in the pocket. Kenny is the most
musical drummers I’ve ever played with. It’s not just about
keeping time and the beat with Kenny. When I play with him, he
knows me, and he has mastered the art of drumming while maintaining that
emotional connection with me. He always listens and hones his
playing to our solos and vocals. There’s something beyond the math
or just keeping the beat. Kenny sings with his drums.
Q: When you play harmonica there is passion in your body language.
When you perform, are you so lost in the music that you forget
everything else? What is going through your mind as you perform?
Lacocque: The best experience for me is indeed to play in the moment and to
feel the band jiving as one. The feeling of being at one with my
band members is exhilarating.
When I’m in the zone, I can fly. I can do anything I want
because the band has my back. So I feel whole and secure.
Q: You compare it to flying? Do you see yourself playing?
Lacocque:
There is a flying metaphor
for how it feels. It’s the ensemble experience that inspires me to
take off in a solo, for instance. I’m still very much a part of
the ensemble but I’m allowed to also be separate with joy. It is
an uplifting experience. I do not visualize myself in a sort of
out-of-body experience though.
Q: Can you compare that feeling you get on stage to something else
in life that perhaps more folks have a frame of reference?
Lacocque: Yes, ever since I was a child I have loved soccer.
I still am a heck of a fan. I
would assume a soccer player gets a similar feeling while playing well
with his or her team. I could see it happening with painting and
other arts. It’s an experience of bliss. Everyone can
experience it. You can have it while running. After
inspiring moments on stage, I say to myself “You see Pierre, all of your
hard work before tonight was worth it.” It is so fulfilling.
Q: You’re native tongue is French. Do you write in French or
English?
Lacocque: I write in English. However, the imagery for each song
is beyond language. Ultimately it gets translated into English.
I use English more often in the United States, as my singer sings in
English. But I do have a song that I wrote in French, “J'ai
Besoin de Toi”
– “I need you.” It is a rumba, New Orleans style. My mother
was cracking up when I sang it in public. She was in the audience.
My father was there too. I’m not
a singer and I never, ever sing at shows.
But for her I did it one time only, and she was smiling ear to
ear. Priceless!
Q: A lot of artists experience anxiety or fear when performing.
Do you or have you experienced that when performing on stage or when
releasing an album?
Lacocque:
Yes, in the beginning of my career, it was difficult because I was not
as secure as I am now. I remember my wife Vickie and my brother
Michel telling me that I looked nervous on stage in my earlier years.
I still get nervous, but I anticipate positively the upcoming
performance, and I trust my band. I love being around them.
We have each other’s back.
With the years, I’ve become
comfortable with the nervous energy that comes with performing. To
offset some of the tension, I always like to have a song list for each
gig. Even if we end up deviating completely from the song list, I feel
more at ease going into the performance if I have visualized and planned
the sets out. I hate dead time between songs. So, I plan
what songs make sense sequentially. It’s a form of meditation
before each performance.
Q: You manage Mississippi Heat, perform as lead artist, write and
record albums, perform your duties as a practicing psychologist, and
take care of a family. How do you manage to wear all of these hats
successfully?
Lacocque: Well I work constantly at organizing my life, and I must
say, I don’t sleep much!
While I do everything else, there is music in my head all the time.
I accept my lot. I am
grateful for the rewards it brings me.
Certain things like a quality family life or financial
responsibilities are non-negotiable priorities for me. I accept
and embrace them. In the midst of all these responsibilities, my
heart and soul stay focused on my music throughout the day.
I devote hours to my family, and
gladly so. But if I have opportunities to work on my music in
between work or family functions, I take advantage of that time.
Preparing for a recording in particular is a huge endeavor, and it takes
a lot of my energy. But for some reason it works, and I am happy
doing it. I have noticed after all the hard work and effort of
putting together an album, I often have a post-partum period.
A period where I’m drained and I
doubt myself. Indeed, there are so many factors involved in
recording an album. For example, while finishing Delta Bound last
year (2012), Inetta was hospitalized. She even lost her voice,
which created complications in the scheduling. So many other issues came
up to slow the scheduled recording. That’s
why you have to love what you do. It
offsets the frustrations. Delta Bound turned out great – definitely one
of our best recordings to date. I love the songs and especially the
sound on it. The mixing by Michael Freeman is fantastic.
Delmark Records also provided a special packaging for it.
It’s a big honor to our 20th anniversary
as a band.
Q: How do you feel your psychology background influences your
music and your band?
Lacocque:
After decades of reading, studying, and practicing psychology it has
become a part of who I am. It helps me in terms of song writing
and stories. It is also quite useful in dealing with my band
members’ personalities and quirks … including my own!
I find that music and psychology
are compatible: both are about
truth, soul, and the human condition. In fact, some of my songs
have been inspired by my clinical cases. For example, “Ghost
Daddy” (from Footprints on the Ceiling, CrossCut Records, CCD 11071) is based on
a blend of true stories. Also, “What Kind of Man is That” on that
same album is based on a true story too. It’s about a woman who
was physically abused. Both are graciously interpreted by Billy
Boy Arnold.
Q: How would you describe your sound to a deaf person?
Lacocque: Big, gentle and soft. Also
tears and smiles. All of it
together. I hope that people
interpret my sound as one that provides an optimistic view in spite of
the chaos and suffering in this world. I would like to think that
my music invites you to reflect positively upon your life, and also feel
understood.
Q: I would agree. Even in the saddest of songs you’ve
recorded there is an uplifting element to them. For example,
“Blues for George Baze” (from Footprints on the Ceiling) reflects on the
life and death of your friend. The notes and tone of that song are
at times excruciating, and yet the cry of the harmonica is somehow
innocent and hopeful.
Lacocque: Thank you. That song is one of my signature songs.
The sky is the limit in terms of depth for that piece. I can stay
a long time within that emotional state while saying goodbye to George
Baze. But over the years that song has taken on a more universal
meaning. It has become an invitation to go deep into one’s soul
and find oneself tightly and wonderfully held. It has a tension,
but also a denouement. To me, it has a coherent statement even
though it doesn’t have any lyrics.
Q: What’s the hardest part about being a professional musician?
Lacocque: The hardest part is financial. In spite of
working as much as we do, there is not enough income to cover the bills.
There are no material luxuries.
There are also familial
consequences if you have loved ones depending on you.
Q: The business of music is competitive. Do you have advice for
any who hope to successfully navigate the waters of becoming a
professional musician?
Lacocque: You must ask yourself, “Why am I doing it?”
Personally, I don’t play music just to play. I play music out of
necessity. It’s a soulful urgency for me. I think if you
follow your passion, you must also take responsibility for that passion
by taking care of things outside that passion. For example, you
may have a family or a part-time job that will require your attention
too. It’s important to balance those things with your passion.
It is also hard to make it alone.
You will need the support of your family and friends. In my case, my
brother, my parents, my wife, and my sister support me, so that I could
pursue this passion of mine. But it took determination and risk.
I have chosen a balance in my
life where I devote time to my wife and family, where I work part-time
in my private practice and play my music whenever we get a call.
We are fortunate to be in demand.
We play more than a hundred dates
a year. I guess I am saying
that playing music for me, is not getting rid of responsibilities.
It actually means adding
responsibilities. I bring my
income from work as a psychologist, as modest as it is sometimes, to my
wife and home. I could not bear
enjoying my musical career without taking my responsibilities as a
husband and father.
Q: What do you see for the future of Mississippi Heat?
Lacocque: More recordings, touring in new countries, traveling to
Brazil in October, lots of exciting festivals where we meet new friends
and run into old ones.
To
learn more about Pierre Lacocque and Mississippi Heat visit www.mississippiheat.net.
Also, be sure to pick up a copy of their new CD Delta Bound (Delmark
Records, DE 823) to
experience the urgency with which Lacocque and Mississippi Heat
interpret the blues.
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