Few musical genres have suffered as much bastardization, misinterpretation and just plain abuse as the blues. Once reserved almost exclusively for the juke joint—that back o’ town bastion of crap-shooting, corn liquor and their inevitable outcomes; knives, straight razors and the occasional revolver—it is now more commonly heard in over-priced bars festooned with ferns and frequented by fanny-packed tourists and well-heeled professionals. It’s the inevitable pro...