If you were to look at the six band-mates that refer to themselves as the Henry Clay People the image of the man from whom they derived their namesake would not immediately jump out and slap you in the face. You see, they ain’t look too southern (although I could be wrong). They ain’t seem to know much about plantin’ crops (although again, I could be wrong), and they ain’t look like no statesman neither (although yet again, I could be wrong). To me they screamed none of those things, and to my knowledge they do not bare the nickname of the “Great Compromiser,” as the original Henry Clay Person once did. In fact what was so great about meeting up with the Henry Clay People in a filthy alley in the back of a filthy place, on a street in filthy Hollywood was that we didn’t have to compromise with them at all. We just had to pop open the cooler of beers and give them a van to rock. They took over from there, and well, that old Henry Clay War Hawk spirit shined through in their session. Because they shook the shit out of that Winnebago. Shook the shit out of her and spilled a lot of beer in the process. So to that I say, it don’t matter what you name your rock and roll band, because as long as you know how to fuckin’ rock and roll, the name will work out just fine…