Taj Mahal doesn’t play music so much as channel it. The legendary bluesman has been at it for more than 60 years, and he’s still not out of gas. His latest live record, Swinging Live at the Church in Tulsa, just picked up a Grammy win—because of course it did. The guy’s got five Grammys already, and this is nomination number 13. You’d think he’d start using them as doorstops by now, but he’s not that kind of guy.
“I don’t take none of this for granted,” Taj says, looking like the epitome of cool. “This music? It’s a gift from my ancestors. Generations and generations back, all the way to the 11th and 12th centuries. You don’t just stumble into that kind of legacy, and you definitely don’t play around with it. You cherish it. You nurture it.”
This is a guy who can trace his sound to the Mali Empire without blinking. The way he tells it, the real blues didn’t just happen in the American South—they came across the Atlantic with the people who were dragged here against their will. “You don’t hear the blues in Cuba or Santo Domingo,” he says. “That sound grew up right here in the U.S. It’s a specific sound from a specific people. The fingerpicking style—West Africans brought that here. It’s ancient.”
Taj grew up with music in his bones, thanks to his father, a jazz arranger who had ties to Benny Goodman, and his mother, a gospel singer from South Carolina. He remembers stumbling on his stepdad’s guitar as a kid during a game of hide-and-seek, like some kind of divine accident. Naturally, he had no idea how to play it, so he broke the teeth off a comb and tried to use it as a pick. “It was a mess,” he laughs. “But I knew there was something there—I just had to find it.”
His real introduction to guitar came when a new kid from North Carolina moved in next door. “This kid shows up and says he can play guitar. I didn’t believe him, so I bring out this busted-up thing, and the first thing he does is unwind the G string and pull the winding off. Tightens it back up and makes this whiny, bluesy note. I’m like, ‘Man, that’s it.’ I was glued to him from then on.”
It wasn’t about sounding good or getting famous—it was about digging into the roots of something primal. That’s the mindset that carried him through decades of playing, touring, and never really giving a damn about the commercial side of things.
That brings us to the new live album. It’s a real-time portrait of a guy who’s still living the blues instead of just playing them. Recorded at The Church Studio in Tulsa, it’s got that old-school vibe Taj swears by. “They figured out that sound a thousand years ago,” he says. “Those rooms just resonate. It’s like the spirit of music just hangs out there waiting for you to tap in.”
He’s especially stubborn about vinyl, refusing to let go of it even when the industry moved to digital. “I don’t care if I’m the last man standing—I’m not giving up vinyl,” he says, shaking his head like it’s a point of pride. “It’s tangible. It’s got weight. You put a record on and you’re part of the music. You’re not just hearing it—you’re feeling it.”
And sure enough, Swinging Live at the Church in Tulsa is out on vinyl. “I’m not giving up on that format. It never goes below six percent globally. Kids who’ve never even seen a record before are holding them like treasures. I had a kid come up to me with a copy of one of my records, like it was the Holy Grail. That’s magic.”
Taj is already planning his next move, and he’s got stacks of unreleased stuff just waiting to come out. “There’s no shortage of music,” he says. “It’s just about figuring out how to get it out there without shoving an elephant through a straw. These labels—they just don’t get it.”
Still, he doesn’t seem too worried. After all, he’s been doing this his way since the 60s, and he’s not about to change his tune. As long as he’s got a guitar, a groove, and an audience that gets it, Taj Mahal isn’t going anywhere.
Watch the full interview above and then check out the video below.
