King's castle ... Elvis Presley at Graceland in Memphis, Tennessee.Credit: Getty Images
On Google and four wheels, Bruce Elder takes a road trip in search of his music heroes.
Earlier this year, while planning a trip across the US from Los Angeles to Memphis, I decided it would be fun to join the dots on a tour focusing on one of my private enthusiasms: dead musicians.
I had always known that Buddy Holly, a founding father of rock'n'roll and one of my childhood heroes, had grown up in Lubbock, Texas. Now Lubbock was tantalisingly close to my route. Was it worth a detour?
A decade ago, finding such information might have taken days of research. All I do is type three words into Google: "Buddy Holly Lubbock".
The first entry is "Lubbock - Buddy Holly Center" with information on "Admission, Special Events, Membership, Buddy Holly Gallery, Buddy Holly Biography, the Collection, Buddy Holly Timeline" and "Contact Us".
There are reviews of the museum experience on tripadvisor.com, frommers.com, travelpod.com and virtualtourist.com.
Below that are three photographs of a huge pair of horn-rimmed glasses outside the museum, plus a Google Map with one of those distinctive inverted-teardrop red bullets locating the centre at 1801 Crickets Avenue, one block from Buddy Holly Avenue.
Part of the joy of Google is it makes you feel like a genius. In 0.19 seconds those three magic words have yielded 1.1 million results and the first is pure pay dirt. It even warns me the museum isn't open on Mondays.
Of course, I have to visit Lubbock myself to confirm that the museum is modern, beautifully organised and a cleverly understated homage that never degenerates into hyperbole or kitsch. Or to have the lovely experience of the centre's staff pointing me in the direction of Holly's grave and childhood home.
But the principle has been established. Given I have spent most of my working life as a music journalist, it's merely a test of memory to put together the other must-see stopovers on my music-roots tour, which contribute to what has eventually turned into a 16,000-kilometre road trip.
After Buddy, I decide to head to Clarksdale, Mississippi, and stand at the crossroads where, so mythology claims, the great blues man Robert Johnson struck that Faustian pact with the Devil: "I'll teach you to play guitar like a virtuoso if you give me your soul." The story is referred to, with suitable wit, in the Coen Brothers' movie O Brother, Where Art Thou?.
Again, the search is easy. Type in "Robert Johnson Crossroads" and you're offered a YouTube clip of Johnson singing Cross Road Blues (it's been watched more than 6 million times), a long Wikipedia entry on Johnson's tragic life and a detailed account of the myth from a fan (crossroads.stormloader.com).
Add "Clarksdale" to a "Robert Johnson Crossroads" search and the first entry is "How to Locate the Devil's Crossroads of Robert Johnson in Mississippi" (ehow.com/how_4899581_locate-crossroads-robert-johnson-mississippi.html) with specific instructions and excellent advice to stop at the Delta Blues Museum in Clarksdale and "get completely immersed in the history of this music genre".
Mind you, the myth always suggested Johnson met the Devil on the delta flatlands outside town. Today you'll find the "crossroads" are in Clarksdale itself, opposite a gas station and indicated by two huge guitars sitting on a pole in the middle of the road.
Next comes Elvis Presley and Graceland. How could anyone resist staying at the Heartbreak Hotel at the end of Lonely Street just off Elvis Presley Boulevard? (See elvis.com/graceland/heartbreak_hotel.aspx).
Knowing "the King" was born in Tupelo, Mississippi, I head up a Google bayou by typing in "Elvis Presley Tupelo" and stumble upon the Mississippi Blues Trail website (msbluestrail.org). The Blues Trail is a collection of important places throughout the Deep South, indicated by 127 handsome metal signs, painted blue, most with photographs and rewardingly detailed information. They include places associated with famous blues musicians as well as important cotton fields, train depots, clubs, juke joints, churches and cemeteries.
I go back and add Greenwood, Mississippi, to my list of destinations. It is one of the places - there are two others - where Johnson is supposed to be buried. Up the road from Greenwood is the Glendora Plantation where Sonny Boy Williamson worked as a farm hand. Both places offer unique opportunities to experience the poor African-American rural Deep South. They are much more than places of musical homage.
I realised I could have fine-tuned my journey by calling it "Dead Bluesmen" and spending two weeks criss-crossing the Mississippi Delta, visiting such arcane places as Muddy Waters' Cabin (Clarksdale) and the possible birthplace of the Blues at Dockery Farms (just south of Clarksdale). And while in Memphis paying homage to "The King" - and just to add a bit of variation - what about a short side trip to Wolf River, a tributary of the Mississippi, where Jeff Buckley decided to go for a swim, was drowned by the wash from a passing tugboat, and wasn't found for six days.
That's the trouble with a couple of hours spent online with no budget or logistic constraints to stifle your imagination: the potential diversions are endless.
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