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| The genius, lost in his work |
It has been said that, at the right frequencies, his masterwork Bushido Blues has caused grown men's hearts to explode in their chests.
But while his playing may be legendary, what is less known are the events that shaped those skills.
Now, in The Holy Book of Robocop, that incredible story can finally be told.
Seagal's introduction to the blues came during his time in the Deep South, shortly after his stint as a latter-day Samurai in inner city Detroit.
He had been in the south for a few weeks by that time, travelling around by boxcar and learning the rhythms of the strange new land.
At a certain point he encountered a young black man outside a liquor store who was strumming a beaten-up old guitar and singing a weird, haunting music unlike anything Seagal had ever heard before.
It was to be the start of a lifelong obsession.
The psychic landscape of a warrior, especially one as prolific as Seagal, can be a lonely and foreboding place.
Even by that stage he had already killed over seven thousand men, and the sounds of their agonized screams were never far away from his conscious mind.
Yet when the young man strummed away on the guitar Seagal, for the first time, was able to find the kind of peace that until then had eluded him.
His life forever changed, Seagal vowed to learn all he could about the style of music that its devoted fans seemed to be referring to as the blues.
The next day, after studying the dimensions and acoustics of the young musician's instrument, he kicked over an oak tree and constructed a guitar of his own.
After dedicating all of his chi energy to the task, within seven minutes Seagal was playing the blues guitar at a level of a 2nd Dan Black Belt.
Nodding his head, he threw his instrument over his shoulder and hit the road.
For the next few months he would travel between juke joints, playing for ecstatic crowds and receiving sexual favors from an assortment of local women.
But no matter the level of success he found he couldn't shake the feeling that there was still something missing from his playing.
Around the fringes of the Mississippi Delta he would eventually meet an old black man with skin as dark as coal.
In between puffs of his pipe the man told Seagal that if he were to spend the night at a certain crossroads he would be visited by the Devil who, for the price of Seagal’s soul, would add the final piece of magic to his playing.
Seagal did as the old man said and sure enough, at the stroke of midnight a tall figure emerged out of the night.
“Are you the Devil?” Seagal asked.
“That I am.”
“Can you give me what I need?”
As the figure took a step closer Seagal made out the black, frayed skin, as its owner had recently walked through walls of flame.
“I can,” said the Devil. “But there is a price…”
“I know the price," interrupted Seagal. "Just let it be done.”
“Very well.”
As Seagal looked into Satan’s eyes, he felt a dark energy surge through his body, travelling from the ends of his toes to the tip of his ponytail.
Suddenly he fancied that he had been made privy to all of mankind's miseries.
When he picked up his guitar and plucked away at the strings he felt as if every broken heart and lost love in the world were at the command of his fingertips.
His playing was now complete.
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| Lucifer: his interactions with Seagal would prove his undoing |
“Now,” said the Devil. “It is time to pay the price.”
Stepping forward Satan reached out towards Seagal’s chest in order to take his soul.
In doing so he made his fatal mistake.
Someone better versed in the martial arts would never have been so naïve.
Seagal, although he is competent in every fighting style, is particularly adept at the ancient Japanese art of Aikido. Practitioners of Aikido specialize in turning a defensive situation into an offensive one. If skilled enough they are able to use an opponent’s attack against them, putting the aggressor off-balance and them immobilizing them with their own inertia.
By choosing to attack first the Devil had played directly to Seagal’s strengths.
Seagal easily sidestepped the blow and caught Satan’s arm just above the wrist. From there he had effective control over one half of the anti-Christ's body. With Seagal in such a dominant position the fight was already a foregone conclusion.
No stranger to high-intensity combat situations, Seagal slowed down his breathing and kept his heart rate at an acceptable level.
The Devil, meanwhile, was getting desperate.
With his free hand he swung for Seagal’s head. But Seagal had already anticipated this move. He stepped out of the way of the attack and let Satan’s momentum send him crashing to the floor. As he did, the arm Seagal had been holding snapped with a terrible crunch.
The Devil rolled around on the floor, howling in pain.
Taking pity on his fallen enemy, Seagal lifted up his foot and brought it crushing down on the Devil’s neck, destroying the windpipe and disrupting the flow of oxygen to the brain.
Leaving Satan to die Seagal picked up his guitar and walked into the night.
He was now a grand master of the blues guitar and the blood of the anti-Christ still clung to the sides of his black leather boots.
Shortly after this incident he left the Deep South, crossing the Mason Dixon line once again and heading for the bright lights of New York City.
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