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The Cornbred Blues Band is one of Knoxville's premier blues fusion bands, incorporating elements of blues, rock, rockabilly, psychedelia, punk, jazz, and traditional Afro Appalachian folk music into a style that encompasses all stages of this area’s rich musical and cultural heritage. The band formed around the nucleus of a wandering, dejected, and clearly disturbed young singer song writer from Morristown, TN, named Jon Worley. After years of wandering the southern juke joints and dives in a vain attempt to play and drink his life away, he decided to stay a while in Knoxville and see what was going on. He soon encountered a group of down-home guys from the North Knoxville area sittin’ on a log down in a holler. Jon offered them some Panther Piss and showed them his patented hillbilly version of Tovan throat singing. It was not long before crossmojanization occurred and they were well on their way. A few weeks later they were scheduled to play a gig in a nasty little dive in North Knox and thought "wouldn't it be fun to have a drummer". It was that night they bound, gagged, and abducted Ricky Mathis, whom they later found out was actually a multiple personality of some other guy, from a peaceful night’s slumber and threw him in the back of a pickup with a three piece to play the show. The next piece of the puzzle came together while playing a show on the back porch of Patrick Sullivan's. Lo and Behold Daniel Lancaster, a childhood friend of Jon who hadn't seen him in 7 years due to a juju hex placed upon them in the midst of a vitamin experiment, walked in the door. Lancaster owed Jon for giving him 5 of his Easter eggs during a hunt at Morristown’s West Elementary when they were in kindergarten and had been trying to work off the debt. Lancaster and Ricky had been playing with a fat-matress bass player named Bucko. He wanted in on the act, and jumped on board. It turns out that he had lied on his application. His name was Bucco, and he was from Jersey. Knowing that Italian bass players from Jersey are normally part of the relocation program, the guys just decided to consider him melungeon and not mention it again. The band has been playin', stompin’, and screamin’ every day since. Sometimes they’ll play on a barge for hundreds of people floating on the river and wake up the next morning in a hotel suite, and sometimes they’ll play for bikers by a campfire in North Carolina and wake up half naked in a mountain creek. You can always count on two things: They’ll make the gig, and they’ll have a story to tell when we get there. It’s the life of a Cornbred Kid.
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