His notoriety as the last of the unrecorded greats, described with near ascetic reverence by his johnny-come-lately fans, was never his intention. “I tried to get into that studio but they just kept throwin’ me out,” he explained. “I said to Hell with ‘em at last. But it was at last—after a good long time!” When asked if he ever tried to record sober, he laughed at the question. “Hell, it ain’t the drinking makes me play like I do. The booze just keeps the devil satisfied. Last thing I need is for the devil to hear Solomon’s stopped drinking. He’ll come runnin’ then.”
In our interconnected world of binge watches and soft launches, there is little that is hidden from us now. In fact, unrecorded acts like Solomon’s, rather than shrugged off as novelties, are subjected to a growing hostility
