Biography

The story begins in 1997. At the time, I was an amateur musician and, above all, a student at the University of Mississippi (Ole Miss) in Oxford, Mississippi. Two major events took place that would prove to be decisive turning points in both my personal and professional life.

First, I met musician and artist Jay Kirgis, who invited me to play music with him on the street. Every Sunday at noon, Jay would perform outside the local South Side Art Galery in downtown Oxford. After we’d played a few songs, a late-sixties green Chevrolet slowed down as it passed us. Behind the wheel was sixty year old man who looked just like Clarence “Gatemouth” Brown, a Stetson pulled firmly down over his head. He looked me straight in the eye and gave me a slow thumbs-up as he drove by, a clear sign of approval...

Then a few days later, I met Eric Deaton, a local guitarist and bassist who would eventually become the bass player for the Black Keys, while continuing his own career as a singer and guitarist. Back then, Eric used to play bass for the legendary bluesman Junior Kimbrough.

One evening, he took me deep into the Mississippi countryside, to a place called Chulahoma, home of Junior Kimbrough’s Juke Joint. The beer cans littering the floor of his old white Buick and the flashing blue lights of the police cruisers parked outside the club didn’t do much to shake the carefree confidence of my youth.

Jay was there too he looked like John Goodman in The Big Lebowski, with Eric’s long blond hair, my pale complexion and blue eyes, we stood out completely from the rest of the local blues crowd gathered there.

And yet, I was welcomed with open arms, particularly by David Kimbrough, Junior's son.

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After spending a few minutes listening to the

local musicians, I was invited to join them. I had never taken part in a jam session in France. David Kimbrough sat down at the drums, Eric took the bass, and I guess Jay lent me a guitar to play *Hideaway*.
The crowd applauded. The guys told me it was cool and asked if I sang as well. I shyly said yes, then suggested, “*The Thrill Is Gone*, in A minor.”
After three verses and a guitar solo, I was greeted with another round of applause. I stepped down from the modest stage, and everyone came over to talk to me, encourage me, and tell me that what I’d done was good, that I should keep going and pursue this path.

My brain and soul exploded in a mixture of joy, disbelief, and pure bliss...
I went back to Paris. I was no longer a student.
I was a musician, mostly a blues musician...


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