Eli Cooks.

There are just so damn many of us.

Everybody and their sister picks up the guitar at some point. Go to any local blue grass jam and there will be 11 guitars, maybe 1 stand-up bass, maybe a fiddle or a banjo if you’re lucky.

On some nights there will just be the 11 guitars. Start a band and it won't be a guitar player you have to look for. You can’t spit without hitting one.

Guitar Center isn't called Keyboard Center.

The truth is, despite its 12 fret repeating pattern and the I, IV and V sitting right next to each other, it's not an easy instrument to master. 90% of us never get past open chords, learning some Petty songs and noodling in the minor pentatonic. That's not a bad thing, it just is. Punk was birthed by kids who could only play 3 chords. Country Music's 3 Chords and the Truth trope still produces masterpieces.

But every once in a blue moon, a kid comes along and tames the bitch--doesn't just tame it, makes it howl in ecstasy.

The story usually goes something like…Johnny picked up a guitar and everybody thought he sucked. Then he disappeared. Then 6 months later he came out of the woodshed playing the thing like the devil inspired him.

In fact, that's how the Crossroads myth was born. Sorry CDB, love ya, but "Devil went down to Georgia" wasn't about a fiddle.

It was about a guitar.

The story goes that in the 1930's, a shitty guitar player and poor black farmhand named Robert Johnson made a deal with the devil — sold his soul to master the guitar. Then in smoky, dirt floor juke joints across Mississippi over the next 4 or 5 years (until he was murdered because the ladies dug him) he created the Blues basis for Jazz and then Rock and Roll. 29 songs that poured the foundation for everything we have musically and made America the cultural icon of the modern world.

Had to be the Devil right? Have you tried playing that thing?

Our own Eli Cook is one such guitar player. Of course he's a Bluesman. He came out of the Nelson County / Rapunzel's vortex of creativity that produced Crowe-Getty, Munnes, Kerl and countless other gifted musicians.

Bob Taylor, a guitar diddler in his own right and the mad scientist behind that Nelson incubator tells a story about Eli as a shy, awkward kid who gets a guitar, disappears for 6 months then shows up at a jam and sends long time Rapunzel's 6 string jammers into a career-ending funk with his skills. Sound familiar?

Vintage Guitar, Blues Matters, Elmore, American Blues Scene, Downbeat, Pulse, Roots Music Report, and Glide Magazines among others make a business out of finding and elevating guitar players like Eli.  And they describe his artistry in detail, far better than we can.

If you haven't heard Eli play, check out his aggregated reviews here, they are stunningly good. Then check out one of his albums, start with High Dollar Gospel.

But what you should not do is miss this guy playing his guitar and singing live with his excellent band--just drums and bass. We caught him last Friday at Holly’s at the end of a night when Charlottesville was filthy with great music shows (including Blue Grass Guitar God Billy Strings at JPJ).

Eli tore the place a new asshole.

We'd suggest you catch him at Holly's Diner, too. There's just something perfect about seeing our own Guitar God shred at our own little Rivanna River juke joint. Food's good. Locals are friendly. Booze flows. Parking is easy or If you live in town you can stumble home.

Tell them the devil sent you.

On another note, we wanted to update you on Jesse Fiske’s outfit. Bazz, take it away.

We caught Jesse’s Houze last summer at Fridays After Five, also opening for J Roddy, but this one at the Southern gig different right out of the gate. Smaller room, tighter crowd, a little more edge in the air.

Jesse Fiske, Koda Kerl, and the boys came out loose, confident, and clearly ready to have some fun.  Jesse led the way with that smooth, steady guitar work and a deep, calming voice.  Nothing forced, nothing overthought, just a band that knows how to read a room and settle into it. He’s one of those guys who’s played just about everywhere including as a member of the Hackensaw Boys, and it shows in the best way.

In my book, having keys in a band is like having ice cream on apple pie.  You don’t need it, but when it’s there and done right, it takes everything up a notch. Having Koda on keys and backing vocals added that extra layer of flavor, filling out the sound without ever crowding it. You can hear his Chamomile and Whiskey roots in there, but he’s not boxed into that lane, he just adds texture, space, and a little Koda to the whole thing.

What stood out most was how the set never sat still. One minute you’re drifting in this hazy, almost psychedelic groove where the whole room feels like it’s breathing together, and the next they kick the door open into straight up rock and roll. 

And that’s really the thing with this band. They’re not just playing in the Charlottesville scene, they are the scene.  On any given night, you might run into Jesse or Koda at Durty Nelly’s, not just passing through, but actually in it, talking with people, trading stories, sometimes jumping in and playing a few songs. It’s less about “being seen” and more about being part of it, which comes through when they’re on stage.

Which is why seeing them at The Southern hits a little different. You still get that close, local energy, but with the sound, lights, and room all working in their favor.  It’s polished without losing the grit, elevated without losing the personality.

By the time they wrapped, the room felt fully dialed in, and honestly, it set the tone for the rest of the night in a way that felt earned.  Charlottesville’s got no shortage of talent, but Jesse’s Houze sits in that sweet spot where experience, chemistry, and just genuinely enjoying the moment all collide.