How Ry Cooder Changed the Way I Hear the Blues—and Everything Else
It’s hard to explain Ry Cooder to someone who’s never heard him. Is he a bluesman? A slide guitar master? A world music ambassador? A musical archaeologist? The truth is—he’s all of that and more. But for me, Ry Cooder is the guy who changed the way I hear everything.
The first time I stumbled onto him, I didn’t even know what I was hearing. It was Paris, Texas—the soundtrack, not the movie. That lonely, weeping slide guitar felt like it was pulling memories out of me I didn’t even have. I remember sitting there with tears in my eyes thinking, Who plays like this?
Ry Cooder does.
The First Time I Got the Blues (Ry’s Way)
Before Ry, I thought the blues had a narrow lane—Chicago grit or Delta dirt. But Ry showed me that the blues could live in an Appalachian holler, a Cuban alleyway, or a Tex-Mex barroom. I picked up his self-titled debut album in a used record bin sometime in the late ’70s. From the first spin, I knew this guy wasn’t your average 12-bar picker.
He didn’t just cover old blues songs—he resurrected them. He’d take a Blind Willie Johnson tune and somehow make it sound ancient and brand new at the same time. That spooky, aching slide guitar tone—pure magic.
And the man’s taste? Impeccable. Whether it was Lead Belly, Sleepy John Estes, or Flaco Jiménez, Ry was always shining a light on the underrated, the overlooked, the forgotten. He gave them new life—and gave me a never-ending rabbit hole of artists to discover.
A Lifelong Road Trip with No Map
Ry’s career is like the world’s coolest mixtape—blues, gospel, Tex-Mex, Hawaiian, African, Cuban. One minute he’s scoring a Wim Wenders film, the next he’s on stage with the Buena Vista Social Club, reintroducing the world to Cuban son music. That record alone—Buena Vista Social Club—sparked a whole global wave of interest in traditional Cuban sounds. And Ry was right there in the middle of it, not taking credit, just making it happen.
I remember watching the documentary for the first time. I was blown away by the joy, the musicianship, the respect. Ry didn’t show up to “collaborate” like some tourist—he listened. He learned. That’s the thing with Ry—he’s a student first, always humble in the presence of great music.
Seeing Him Live: A Rare and Holy Experience
Seeing Ry live is no easy feat. He’s never been the “tour every summer” kind of guy. But I was lucky enough to catch him once, in a small California theater, not long after Mambo Sinuendo came out. He walked onstage with his usual low-key presence, sat down with his slide guitar, and proceeded to play one of the most soul-stirring sets I’ve ever seen.
He barely spoke. Just played. Each note so deliberate, so emotional, it was like he was having a conversation with the universe. The crowd knew—we were witnessing something rare.
More Than a Musician—A Teacher, A Guide
Ry Cooder doesn’t just play music. He honors it. He brings deep respect to every project, every note. Whether he’s shining a light on old spirituals, protest songs, or Chicano rock, he’s reminding us where the music came from—and why it matters.
Albums like Into the Purple Valley, Chicken Skin Music, and My Name Is Buddy aren’t just great records—they’re documents. Stories. Time capsules. And somehow, in the middle of all that cultural history, Ry always sounds like Ry. His touch, his tone, that haunting slide—it’s unmistakable.
Why I Keep Coming Back
As a blues fan, Ry expanded my world. He showed me that the blues doesn’t live in a box—it’s everywhere, if you’re willing to listen. He taught me that roots music isn’t about nostalgia—it’s about connection. And that sometimes, the most powerful thing you can play is a single, perfectly placed note.
Whenever I need to get grounded—when the modern world feels too fast, too fake—I put on Paris, Texas or The Prodigal Son, close my eyes, and let Ry take the wheel. He always brings me back to what matters.
For New Listeners
If you’re just getting started with Ry Cooder, I envy you. Start with Ry Cooder (1970) and Into the Purple Valley. Then take a deep dive into Paris, Texas, Buena Vista Social Club, and Chávez Ravine. You’ll never hear the world the same way again.
In a world full of noise, Ry Cooder plays with purpose. And for those of us who follow the blues, he’s a compass—pointing us back to the heart.
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