Both black religion and the blues offered sources of hope that there was more to life than what one encountered daily in the white man’s world. At the Saturday night juke joint, bluesmen like Robert Johnson, often called the most influential bluesman, spoke back in defiance, refusing to be defined by death’s brutal reality—the constant threat of the lynching tree. I got to keep movinnnn’, I got to keep movinnnn’, Blues fallin’ like hail And the day keeps on worryin’ me, There’s a hellhound on my trail.[24]
