This is a nonfiction book about what's sometimes called 'swamp rock' – music evocative of and inspired by the bayous and backcountry of rural Louisiana and nearby states. Thompson doesn't like the term swamp rock, which, fair enough; it's hard to describe any sort of singular genre that includes musicians as diverse as Elvis Presley, forgotten 20s blues singers, Sinead O'Conner, Nick Cave, Bob Dylan, and Judas Priest. (And because there's nothing like reading about music to make you desperate to actually listen to it, I put together a Spotify playlist of the songs Thompson mentions, so feel free to get a taste of what 'swamp rock' includes - or at least what Bayou Underground does.)

Bayou Underground is organized around a theoretical mixtape: eighteen tracks, each one lending themselves to a chapter less about that particular song and more about various strands of history, folklore, and/or geography that might be relevant. For example, "Sneaking Sally Through the Alley" by Roger Palmer is the title of a chapter about Storyville, New Orlean's famous neighborhood where prostitution was once legal and jazz was invented, despite Palmer's denial that he didn't mean the eponymous 'Sally' to be a prostitute. “Chateau Lafite ’59 Boogie” by Foghat heads a chapter about the pirate Jean Lafitte, despite there being no connection other than a coincidental similarity of names. Other chapters stick closer to their songs; “Promised Land” by Elvis Presley is indeed about Presley's youth and emergence as a singer, while “The House of the Rising Sun” by the Animals covers the long history of the folksong and its many, many covers.

Thompson is a music journalist, but Bayou Underground is more about evoking a place and a mood than analyzing any specific band, trend, or sound. He tells the story of random people he encountered, legends of ghosts and swamp monsters, and describes the view out of his car window more than anything else. He covers the Axman, a still-unsolved serial killer case from the 1920s; hunting alligators; whether or not Robert Johnson really sold his soul at the crossroads; the steamboats of the Mississippi; recipes for gumbo, crawfish pie, and beer-fried alligator; where Creedence Clearwater Revival got their name; Hurricane Katrina; the comic book Swamp-Thing; and the HBO show True Blood. It's quite the melting pot of a book, in other words, with all sorts of tidbits thrown in to amuse.

There are occasionally mistakes when Thompson dives into history, as in this passage: Jean continued business as usual, but received notice that his activities were now internationally renowned: he received a hand-delivered message from the English king, King George I, offering Lafitte and his men British citizenship and land if they would only assist in the naval fight against the United States. Since George I died in 1727, I really doubt he was offering anyone anything in 1814. Thompson also credits John Montaigne (aka Doctor John) with blending Catholicism and West African traditions to create modern-day New Orleans-style voodoo, which I've always heard credited to Marie Laveau, but, eh, in Thompson's defense, there are basically zero substantial historical records that deal with either person or with early voodoo at all, so who knows what the truth is.

I can't say the mistakes put me off the book. Bayou Underground is clearly not meant to be taken as an accurate lesson; instead it's a thing to read when it's hot and humid and all you want to do is lay down with a cold drink and some good music. And it's very, very good at evoking that exact feeling.

https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/2418507935