He’d thought how, like so many of white folks’ sad songs, it only needed a nudge, a twitch to the rhythm and the right chords, to be entirely recognizable as a blues, the human heart and its sorrow doing its damnedest to extract the same dues in song, no matter how people tried to keep themselves split up. He wasn’t feeling split up this evening. In fact he was feeling the least split he had been for a long time. Singing as
