VARESE, January 6, 2026 – by GIANNI BERALDO
Blues is not just music; it is a journey through time that smells of dust and legend. In Labor of Love, the latest musical chapter from Tinsley Ellis, electricity gives way to the raw vibration of wood and steel. Recorded within the historic walls of Bentonia, Mississippi, the album is the result of an almost mystical encounter between Ellis and Jimmy “Duck” Holmes, heir to the spirits of giants like Skip James and Son House.
In this exclusive interview, the Atlanta guitarist tells us about the genesis of a “raw and naked” record, born from style lessons at the Blue Front Cafe and the use of vintage instruments steeped in history. After 40 years on the road, Tinsley Ellis’s true strength still lies in the simplicity of an acoustic boogie that speaks straight to the heart.
Tell me how you chose the tracks for the new album Labor of Love, which is once again entirely acoustic.
Quite simply, I had some songs ready, so I sent them to Bruce Iglauer, eventually choosing 13 for the new album.
The album was recorded in the studios in Bentonia, where you spent quite some time, is that correct?
Bentonia. Yes, Bentonia, Mississippi.
Just before finishing the record, how did the meeting with Jimmy “Duck” Holmes and the atmosphere of the Blue Front Cafe in Bentonia concretely change the sound of Labor of Love compared to how you had initially imagined it?
Well, I had finished about half the album, and then I had the opportunity to go play at the Blue Front Cafe. I didn’t know if Jimmy “Duck” Holmes would be there or not, but he was. He met me at the door in the mid-afternoon, around one o’clock; we chatted, and then he sat down with me.
Excuse me, but is the Blue Front Cafe a small or large venue?
It’s very small. It’s what we would call a commissary, a grocery store.
So it’s perfect for acoustic blues.
Yes, no stage. But he sat with me in the afternoon giving me a lesson in “Bentonia Blues.” Bentonia Blues is famous because of him and, of course, Skip James.
The great Skip James.
Yes. And then that night I did a concert there, playing one set by myself and then another set backing him up.
I imagine that must have been very, very beautiful.
Oh, it was a great blues lesson. Him and me sitting there playing all afternoon, with him correcting me and giving me his suggestions.
Was he correcting your style?
Yes. He’d say, “No, press harder with your thumb. You have to push with your thumb and tune the guitar a certain way.” They have the Bentonia tuning, which is different from the others. Then I went back to Atlanta and kept working on the album, incorporating what he had taught me.
Songs like Long Time and Sunnyland recall great artists like John Lee Hooker and Son House. After 40 years on the road, do you feel this album is a sort of return to your roots or your modern interpretation of a sound so important to the history of folk blues?
Well, this is probably one of my most traditional blues albums. I’ve incorporated a lot of the music I’ve been listening to for almost 60 years. Muddy Waters, Robert Johnson, Skip James, and of course Son House. Yes, this is my music now. I don’t play electric guitar live anymore. I love listening to Albert King, Robert Cray, B.B. King, Otis Rush. I love listening to it and sometimes I take out my electric guitars and play, but now I feel I can be more emotional and expressive on an acoustic guitar.
But did you start out playing acoustic or electric?
I started with acoustic. My parents wouldn’t buy me an electric until I had taken lessons on the acoustic. And it all started after seeing the Beatles on the Ed Sullivan Show in February 1964.
A great moment in America.
Yes, a great moment in America.
Labor of Love is described as a “naked and raw” record. What was the biggest challenge in trying to capture that emotional honesty without the filter of traditional external production?
Well, it was a challenge because Naked Truth had done very well, and it was hard to make a better album than that. So I recorded, then I listened, and I went on tour listening to it during the trip. Once I got back, I did it again and again until I got the right versions of every song. And then certain songs were left out—who knows, maybe I’ll record them in the future.
For the first time in a career spanning over 30 years, you included the mandolin on three songs. How did this choice come about and where did you learn to play it?
Well, this is the first time I’ve recorded myself playing the mandolin. I was listening to some tracks and thought, “You know, a mandolin would sound good here, doubling the part I’m playing.” So I borrowed my brother’s mandolin. He lives in Japan and left the mandolin in the U.S. I went to my mother’s house, picked it up, and used it on the first song, Hoodoo Woman, the opening track. I thought, “This sounds really good,” so I put it on another song called Too Broke. And then I wanted a track with just the mandolin and no guitar. So for the first time, I recorded a song without guitar, and that’s Sad Sad Song. Just mandolin and vocals.
Yes, I listened to the track, and that mix between mandolin and guitar overall is very original.
The mandolin is fantastic because it adds a whole texture to the music. I don’t have many
mandolin influences, but I grew up hearing it because I live near the Georgia mountains where there is Bluegrass music. Often in a Bluegrass band, when the mandolin isn’t soloing, it does that rhythmic “chop” that sounds almost like a snare drum. So the mandolin can also be a great percussion instrument.
Like a drum, basically. It reminds me of something by David Bromberg, maybe? Yes, David Bromberg and also David Grisman.
Ah yes, David Grisman, who played with Jerry Garcia.
Jimmy Page also played the mandolin. And I think maybe John Paul Jones played it in Led Zeppelin, too. But I’m not certain.
Yes, Page was the mandolinist for Led Zeppelin. I really like that John Lee Hooker-style groove you chose for some tracks. I noticed a sound that never stops, a sort of almost psychedelic “boom-boom.”
It’s a boogie. It’s called a boogie.
Was that the effect you wanted?
Yes. I toured with John Lee Hooker about 40-45 years ago when he played in Georgia; my band, The Heartfixers, opened for him in several places. I also opened for him at the Beacon Theater in New York when he released the album The Healer. I saw John Lee Hooker at a concert near Macon, Georgia. He was a unique person, a true bluesman. Anyway, I did this gig in Macon opening for him and only 10 people showed up.
Only 10 people?
Only 10 people. And so he sent the band off stage and went up by himself, stomping his foot and singing for about half an hour; it was a religious experience. His band said he never did that, he always played with the group, but that time he played like he used to in the old days. And that’s the sound I was looking for in the song Long Time, the second track on the album. A few years later, The Healer came out. Do you remember The Healer?
No, unfortunately not.
Well, it was his breakthrough album, with Santana and Robert Cray. After that record, I went from seeing him play for 10 people to seeing him in front of thousands. It only takes one album to make music history.
For this record, you use historic guitars like a 1969 Martin D35 and a 1937 National Steel. How important was the sound of these vintage instruments in defining the real and honest atmosphere of Labor of Love?
I think if you want to sound like your musical heroes, you have to use the same kind of instruments they used. Old instruments, to my ears, sound better. And then I travel with them, I play them every night, so they feel “right.” Especially that 1937 National Steel—it’s almost a hundred years old. I don’t know who originally owned it. Maybe Son House or Bukka White. I don’t know.
Fantastic!
I think about it all the time. I’ve only had it for 15 years, but where was it before? Who played it? The spirits of Mississippi pass through that instrument.
But what electric guitars do you have?
Oh, I have many. Stratocasters, Gibsons—but mainly Fender and Gibson.
Is there a particular song whose structure stems from the specific tone of one of these vintage instruments?
I’d say in Sunnyland you can really hear the vintage instrument, the National Steel. To my ears, it’s the closest thing to the sound of Son House’s National Steel.
But what is the difficulty in playing an old guitar? Is it the same as a new one?
It’s the same, but the Martin in particular—a guitar I’ve played for over 50 years—is perfect for me. If I go into a store and pick up the new version of the same model, it won’t feel right. It doesn’t have the wear marks in the right places like my Martin. A new one feels like someone else’s guitar. Maybe it’s prettier, without scratches, but mine gives me “my” sound and feels comfortable to the touch.
The longest track on the album is I’d Rather Be Saved, and the album average is three minutes per song. Telling short stories is a style that recalls the blues of the past, is that correct?
That’s a good question. If you’re referring to I’d Rather Be Saved, that was influenced by Jimmy “Duck” Holmes. He finds a groove and just keeps going. Some of his songs last 10 minutes. I think acoustic blues songs tend to be shorter than electric ones. In an electric track, you do solos, you go high up on the fretboard, you have bass, drums, maybe the organ, and you can build it up for a long time. With acoustic, you are alone, and the music tends to be more of a short story rather than a 10-minute Pink Floyd-style epic. Robert Johnson’s songs last about two and a half minutes. Acoustic blues is more focused on the lyrics and the groove than on long solos.
The cover of the new album is simple and effective. What is the message? Perhaps the idea is that we will only hear great acoustic blues?
That’s a photo a friend of mine took at a concert. It was one of my electric shows, but usually I play six or seven songs with the band and then I bring out the National Steel to play two or three tracks before going back to electric. During that part of the show, the photographer got close and took a picture of my hands with the slide. We kept that photo for years knowing that one day it would end up on an album cover.
Do you use a glass or brass slide?
I use a brass slide for acoustic on the National Steel, like Muddy Waters did. On wooden guitars, I use glass.
I saw Muddy Waters in Milan many years ago with the big band: a great concert.
I also saw Muddy Waters; I was sitting right at his feet while he played. And at the feet of Howlin’ Wolf, and B.B. King many times. I saw all the bluesmen I could. Then, when I joined Alligator Records, I was able to back people like Otis Rush, Albert Collins, Buddy Guy, Koko Taylor, and James Cotton, but I was too young to back Muddy Waters or Howlin’ Wolf. For them, I was just in the audience.
Your initial inspiration came from the so-called British Invasion bands like Cream and the Rolling Stones, or Southern Rock like the Allman Brothers, before seeing B.B. King live. How did these rock influences initially shape your approach to blues guitar?
Well, I always wanted to be like B.B. King. He would sing a phrase and then make it echo on the guitar. It was something I wanted to do too. Also, when B.B. King performed, it almost felt like being in church. I always go back to that feeling I had the first time I saw him in 1972.
On the 2023 acoustic tour, you often opened for Marcia Ball—a wonderful artist I’ve always appreciated. Tell me about that experience.
We did about 50 shows together across America. I would play first alone on acoustic, then she would play alone on piano, and finally we would do a set together. It was a long concert every night, full of love and laughter.
I imagine. Do you still have the guitar string that B.B. King gave you, and do you still get emotional touching or looking at it?
Yes, absolutely. I like showing it to people. I have all the photos and autographs of people I’ve met or played with over the years. I keep them in an envelope and take them out to show.
What does it mean to you to be part of a label like Alligator, which has such a deep and uncompromising history with the Blues?
Alligator Records is the number one blues label. I’ve been with six or seven different labels in my 45-year career, but Alligator is the one that works the hardest, the best. It’s an honor to be on a label that recorded people like Hound Dog Taylor, Son Seals, Koko Taylor, and Buddy Guy. When I signed with them, I was one of the young guys; I was 30 or 31. Now I’m 68. I’ve been there for almost 40 years. I was the “rock and roll” artist they had signed, and now I’m the old bluesman.
It happens. Musicians like Joe Bonamassa or the Tedeschi Trucks Band define you as a “national treasure.” Do you feel the weight or responsibility of having to preserve and evolve the blues tradition?
With blues music, I think the older the artist is, the better the blues is, because we have life experience. I’ve known Joe, Susan Tedeschi, and Derek Trucks since they were kids. They are much younger than me and they’ve been kind to remember me over the years, inviting me on stage to play with them.
Regarding the current political situation between the USA and Europe, what do you think?
I’m not a political person, but I want you to know that blues musicians love the European people and European countries. I hope things improve soon. Me and my blues friends, we love everyone. Even if some politicians don’t love everyone, we do. The blues is an international language of love and peace.
Will the next tour be acoustic?
Now I only play acoustic. Maybe one day I’ll go back to electric, but for now, it’s just me with my Martin and my National Steel to promote the new album. I prefer it this way; I can be more expressive.
Are you already thinking about a new album for 2026?
Yes, I am. I don’t know yet if it will be acoustic or electric. Lately, I’ve been recording songs in the style of J.J. Cale and Mark Knopfler. I really like Mark Knopfler, both with Dire Straits and in his acoustic period.
I hope to see you soon in Italy.
I hope to come and do a concert there. I have never played in your country and I really want to. I’ll bring my Martin and my National Steel and I’ll sing my songs and those of Son House and Muddy Waters. Tell your friends to bring me there and I will come play the Mississippi Blues. I’ve been to Poland, Russia, France, Spain, but not yet to Italy. I have to come.
Thank you very much for the interview; it was a special evening for me. See you in Italy.
Thank you, my friend. Peace and love. Arrivederci.