New Jersey music journalist Bennett Kelly celebrates the launch of his debut rock & roll novel, “Sensation Blues,” on Saturday, October 12, at the Ivy Inn in Princeton. The free event runs from 2 to 5 p.m., and copies of the book will be available for purchase. Attendees who buy a book will also receive a free drink at the bar.
Kelly, who was born and raised in Monmouth County, worked in radio production and sports journalism before moving on to covering music. He writes for New Brunswick Today and the Look at My Records music blog, and his work has appeared in U.S. 1 (see “Blues Traveler ‘Bringing the Rock to the People,’” July 17, 2024).
In publicity for “Sensation Blues,” Kelly describes it as “Think Catcher in the Rye steeped in the blues music of Muddy Waters, Son House, Robert Johnson and more.” An excerpt from the novel follows:
McKinley grabs his guitar by the neck and tiptoes along the side of the house, softly on the grass and then quickly into the field. He breaks into a run for the hundred moonlit yards across the field, not stopping until he’s past the tracks. He leaps over them in one bound, landing on soft grass on the other side. He breathes and looks back over his shoulder, merely walking fast now and keeping stride. The house is dark save for a backdoor blue light, growing smaller by the step.
Almost a mile up Sunflower Ave on the southern edge of downtown is the old cemetery. From the sidewalk, he peers into the center of it. He’s still breathing heavy, and holds it for a few seconds. He doesn’t see or hear Ira.
He could turn back, but he’s already there. His heart pounds. He wonders if he’s gone crazy. He breathes deep, and enters through an iron gate.
In the darkness he finally hears someone moaning a mournful blueser. “Ira?” McKinley whisper-yells from the edge of the cemetery.
The music stops. “McKinley!” he gratefully hears back. Then, “The middle!” McKinley finally sees a body, leaning on a tombstone, Ira at ease and smiling.
“Oh, you’re really on your journey now, Kingy,” Ira says to his nephew once in range.
McKinley’s yet to crack a smile as he walks up. He only nods. This is serious business.
“You been here long?” McKinley asks.
“A song or two,” Ira says. He’s leaning back with his ankles crossed, looking pretty comfortable.
“I couldn’t see or hear you from the sidewalk,” McKinley says.
“Good, good,” Ira says.
“Normally you can see across the whole thing.”
“Normally,” Ira smiles. “But you’ve never been here this late, or with your guitar.”
McKinley looks back to where he entered, checking as if someone followed him in. But he was alone on the sidewalk, and alone on his way in. Ira laughs at him.
“It isn’t right,” McKinley says.
“No, it’s just right. Trust me, nobody can hear us but the haints.”
“The what?”
“Haints!” Ira says. “Spirits,” he clarifies. McKinley makes a face. “You’ve got family buried here, you know.”
“I know,” McKinley says.
“I told them you were coming.”
“Tss,” he scoffs.
“They’re just dying to hear you play,” Ira jokes. “They say, ‘Little McKinley’s on tonight? Let me get my nickels…’ Hahaha.”
McKinley doesn’t laugh. He’s looking around. He’s spooked. “It’s too quiet. Won’t they hear us?”
“Of course. They come alive,” Ira says grandly. “Oh, you mean people? No, there’s nobody here Mac.” He waves his arm through the air. The air is still and misty. McKinley can’t see very far now. “It’s just you, me and the guitars,” Ira says. “Nobody chills in a graveyard. Nobody’s gonna interfere, not even the haints. That’s why it’s so quiet- they’re waiting for you to start.”
McKinley’s just nodding around, looking everywhere, over his shoulders, a little jumpy. He’s still feeling twitchy from having snuck out. The first time he’s ever done so. He can’t remember Paul ever going out the window or coming back in the wee wee hours. His heart’s still beating fast.
“Take a deep breath,” Ira says.
He does, and it starts coming down. There he is, standing with his acoustic guitar in a dark cemetery. He takes another breath.
“Aww man,” McKinley says.
“What?”
He sighs. “Okay,” he says.
“Okay?” says Ira. “Okay then, we’ll play. We’re starting at the beginning, what we created in the Delta a hundred years ago. Country blues. You’ve got about fifty years of country, Delta blues to learn, before you even consider electric.” If McKinley bats an eye on the inside, it isn’t revealed to his teacher. Ira continues.
“You’re gonna get to know every nook and cranny of that guitar. It’s in as good shape as the day I bought it for you and Paul, and you’ve finally grown into it. You know what it’s called, the make?”
McKinley doesn’t need to glance at the headstock to say it back. “It’s a Stella.”
“That’s right. You know who played Stella’s?”
“Mmm,” he’s not sure.
“Well, lots of bluesers. But, your namesake, for one.”
“Oh yeah?” says McKinley. “Muddy Waters.”
“And we’ll get to him,” says Ira. He shakes his head in shucks-y admiration. “Shoot,” Ira says coolly.
“What?”
“When I bought that for you guys, I had visions of nights like this in mind.”
“In a graveyard?”
“Ehh, yeah, pretty much. I’ve always had these notions.”
Learn more about Bennett Kelly and ‘Sensation Blues’ at www.sensationblues.com.
“Sensation Blues” Launch Party, Ivy Inn, 248 Nassau Street, Princeton. Saturday, October 12, 2 to 5 p.m. Free to attend; book purchase includes drink ticket.
