Jimmy “Duck” Holmes + Chris Gill

Introduction

Strains of blues guitar ring out from the dim interior of the historic Blue Front Café in Bentonia, Mississippi, on a chilly December morning. The place is smoky from a homemade wood-fired heater and lingering cigarette smoke, while the steady murmur of a local news broadcast from the corner television mixes with the music and conversation. Jimmy “Duck” Holmes, proprietor of the Blue Front and the last of the original Bentonia Blues masters, sits with his apprentice, Chris Gill—a professional touring blues musician eager to deepen his understanding of the Bentonia style during their 2024–2025 apprenticeship.

Master Artist: Jimmy “Duck” Holmes

Although Jimmy was introduced to the blues at the age of ten in 1957, he didn’t develop a real interest in playing until the 1970s. “That seed was planted early,” he said, recalling the days when his family lived next door to Henry Stuckey (1897-1966)—the man credited with originating the Bentonia style. Stuckey passed down his knowledge to Skip James (1902-1969) and Jack Owens (1904-1997), who further developed the style, though it was Owens who eventually became Jimmy’s mentor, directly helping to shape his own musical path.

Considered one of the oldest continually operating juke joints in Mississippi, the Blue Front Café was opened by Jimmy’s parents in 1948 and, over the ensuing decades, became a significant venue for Mississippi blues players. Jimmy took over the café in 1970 and has run it ever since. In addition to maintaining the venue, he continues to host the Bentonia Blues Festival, which he started with his mother in 1972. Though now 77, Jimmy still travels regularly to perform at gigs, bringing the unique sound of Bentonia blues to new audiences.

A strong proponent of sharing his musical knowledge, Jimmy has long seen it as his responsibility to pass on the Bentonia style. “If Jack Owens had been selfish in what he know, I wouldn’t know what I know,” he said. “Cause believe it or not, there are a lot of musicians right now, who don’t show nobody nothing’.” He’s taught many blues workshops in schools, trying to spark interest in younger generations who often don’t feel drawn to the genre. But he pushes them to understand that the blues underlies much of the popular music they love. “I ask them students, ‘Do you like the blues?’ and they tell me, ‘Nope.’ ‘Do you play the blues?’ they tell me ‘Nope.’ Well, you can’t play no guitar!” Then he adds, “I go a little further. I say, no matter how big a house is—how many rooms, bathrooms, bedrooms—it has a foundation. Blues is the foundation of all of it. Once I kind of sink that into them, then they begin to get interested.”

Apprentice: Chris Gill

Despite the haunting appeal of the Bentonia blues sound—shaped by open E minor and D minor tunings—Jackson-area musician Chris Gill was the only person Jimmy identified as truly committed to learning the style. The two have known each other for years, and while Jimmy had shared bits of his technique with Chris in the past, this apprenticeship marks the first time they’ve been able to fully dedicate themselves to a true master-apprentice relationship.

Chris considers himself fortunate to make his living as a professional blues musician and has been playing blues guitar since the 1980s. He first became aware of the Bentonia style in 1994 after reading a newspaper article about Jack Owens and later hearing him perform at a festival. Determined to meet Jack in person, Chris drove through Bentonia and stopped by the Blue Front Café, hoping someone could give him directions to Jack’s house. He asked two men, both of whom tried to explain the winding route through rural backroads but gave up, admitting it was too complicated. Finally, in true fairytale fashion, the third man offered a solution.

“Third person was the magic one,” Chris recalled. “He told me I’d never find it on my own, but he’d go with me—if I brought him back to the Blue Front.”

Chris agreed, and after dropping his guide off back at the café, he made the return trip to Jack’s house alone. “…I got back and he was standing in the front yard,” Chris said. “He shook my hand like this and said, ‘I was hoping you might come back by.’ And I go, ‘Oh wow.’”

They sat together on Jack’s front porch while Jack showed Chris some Bentonia licks. Already a dreamlike experience for Chris, the day took an even more surreal turn when a car full of European blues fans pulled up, and Jack’s longtime musical partner, Bud Spires (1931-2014), climbed out to join them. A blind harmonica player with deep roots in the style, Bud wasted no time jumping into the session.

“We were sitting on the porch… all of a sudden… here comes Bud Spires flying out of the car,” Chris recalled. “He got up on that porch—man, him and Jack went to town.”

Chris eventually had to leave for a gig, but the moment stayed with him. As he drove, he kept replaying it in his mind, stunned that he had just witnessed two blues legends jamming on a Mississippi porch like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Chris became friends with both Jack and Bud, learning more about the Bentonia style through time spent with each of them. It was Bud who introduced him to Jimmy, pointing out that since Jimmy had learned directly from Jack, he was someone Chris ought to know. Over the years, Chris performed at the Bentonia Blues Festival and the Blue Front Café, gradually developing a friendship and musical rapport with Jimmy. With this apprenticeship, those connections come full circle, deepening a bond rooted in shared tradition and respect.

The Apprenticeship

Like many traditional practices, learning to play Bentonia blues involves close observation, repetition, and time. That’s how Jimmy learned from Jack Owens, and that’s how he now works with Chris. Jimmy insists he doesn't “teach” in the formal sense—he simply shows, passing on what he knows through demonstration.

During the interview, Jimmy emphasizes the central role of the G string in Bentonia style. He demonstrates a few techniques, explaining that one of the hallmarks of the style is how earlier players “kept the G string closed on the first fret 90 percent of the time.” With just a single finger on that fret—and only minimal changes elsewhere—he shows how the guitar can provide a steady foundation while the melody is carried by the voice in songs like “Silent Night” and “Amazing Grace.” Once that foundation is understood, it can be expanded into more complex patterns and phrases.

Both Jimmy and Chris contribute to the impromptu lesson, casually discussing fingerpicking styles and recalling licks associated with Jack Owens and Skip James. Jimmy plays “Jack Ain’t Got No Water,” then shifts into “Cypress Grove,” explaining that while Skip James added some chordal flourishes to his playing, he still relied on the foundational Bentonia riff.

Jack Owens comes up often in their conversations; he remains a constant presence in both their lives. His photograph, along with those of other old Bentonia blues masters, hangs on the walls of the Blue Front. At one point, Jimmy gestures toward a black-and-white image. “The one in the white, that’s who started it all,” he says, referring to Henry Stuckey. Stuckey’s photo hangs beside the one of Jack Owens, just above the doorway leading to the café’s small back kitchen—a quiet reminder of the musical lineage that continues to live on in this space.

Most of the guitars hanging on the wall of the Blue Front Café are donated, each with its own story. When asked if he has a favorite, Jimmy points to a case on the floor. “Ain’t nothing special about it,” he says, “you know everybody got one they like…” It’s an Epiphone, donated by the company itself—made to look old, though Jimmy guesses it’s less than twenty years old. He decides to plug it in and play, asking for an instrument cable while he gets set up.

As Jimmy tunes the guitar, its sound comes through the amp with a moody resonance. Chris, meanwhile, recalls how Bud Spires used to shout “Mercy Mr. Percy!” after playing. Over the course of the interview, he shares several expressions like that—sayings he remembers from both Spires and Jack Owens—phrases that still echo in his memory and feel like part of the music itself. Metal chairs scrape across the concrete floor as Jimmy and Chris get ready to jam.

They launch into “The Blues Ain’t Nothing,” with Jimmy laying down a steady rhythm and vocals while Chris riffs over the top. “Yeah, I want you to rock me, rock me all night long,” Jimmy sings. When the song ends, and someone comments on how cool it sounds, Jimmy simply says, “I tell you, it’s the tuning of the guitar.”

The rhythmic base line stands out—something Jimmy explains is essential to the Bentonia sound. “In Bentonia style, you got to run your own bass,” he says. Demonstrating again, he adds with a smile, “Now, that’s gonna take some getting used to.”

He introduces another song next, “All Night Long,” a tune he learns from Jack Owens but adapts slightly in his own playing. Its rolling bass line fills the room. “That took Chris a long time,” he jokes when the song finishes.

Conclusion

The Bentonia blues apprenticeship between Jimmy and Chris isn’t just about learning songs or mastering the intricate techniques that define the style. It’s also about place—about understanding the people who came before and feeling the weight of history in the spaces where the music was made. Because Chris learned directly from Jack Owens, he comes to this apprenticeship with more than just curiosity—he brings a lived connection to the lineage. That connection, rooted in shared experience and memory, is part of what he now helps carry forward.

“Even me here,” Chris says about the Blue Front, “I mean the first time I came here—STILL—it moves me, I love it. But the first time, I was just blown away, it was like something from the past, like this is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen… or going to Jack Owens’s porch and sitting there for the first time—moves you… or rearrange[s] your molecules.”

When asked if he wants to teach others, Chris answers without hesitation: “Yeah, absolutely love to. Like I say, keep it going.”

“Somebody got to do it,” Jimmy adds. “If they don’t, it’s gonna fall by the wayside.”

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