Here's the opening paragraph of my latest reminiscence:

I bought my first record in 1954, when I was 12: Little Walter’s “My Babe.” The 2008 film Cadillac Records reveals Walter as scotch-soaked, pistol-packing and tragedy-fated. But if I thought of him at all, it was as a tiny guy with the same name as my cousin. No cult of personality compelled the release of my 89 cents. It was entirely the edgy, haunted voice, the scratchy lilting beat, the sound alone stirring my placid blood.  I had no “babe.” I had not transgressed my way into “cheating”– let alone any “midnight creeping”– but I divined a summons onto tempting ground.  

For the rest: http://www.broadstreetreview.com/index.php/main/article/the_dawn_of_rock_n_roll_a_memoir