Behind The Rose - Rev. Kenn Blanchard - Blusician.com

Join Rev. Kenn Blanchard, the Blusician, on a unique journey on how he became a musician. He'll share his storied career as a Marine Corps veteran, federal law enforcement officer, and advocate (known for Black Man With A Gun™), to his calling as a pastor and caregiver, Rev. Blanchard brings a wealth of experience and wisdom. Discover how faith has guided his life's unexpected turns, including becoming a devoted caregiver and finding his true voice through music. Each episode blends his soulful music with compelling stories and reflections, exploring themes of resilience, purpose, and finding joy in every season of life. This podcast offers authentic conversations, inspiring narratives, and a unique perspective on navigating life, embracing change, and connecting deeply with your purpose. New episodes delve into his unique insights and feature his incredible talent. Tune in to be inspired, entertained, and uplifted.

Playing vs. Performing 11/17/2025

Humidity and Halloween -4- 11/10/2025

Humidity and Halloween -4- “When humidity drops below 40%, guitars start to suffer. The wood contracts, the top sinks, and suddenly your action feels off. You might notice sharp fret ends poking out—because the fingerboard shrinks while the frets stay the same size. Cracks can appear in the body, and tuning stability goes out the window. It’s not just inconvenience—it’s damage to the voice of your instrument.” “Humidity is like the invisible caretaker of your guitar. In summer, too much moisture can swell the wood. In winter, too little dries it out. The sweet spot is around 45–55% relative humidity. That’s where your guitar feels at home, resonant, balanced, and ready to sing.” • Use a case humidifier: Slip one into your guitar case—it keeps the microclimate stable. • Room humidifier: If you keep guitars on stands, humidify the whole room. • Monitor humidity: A small hygrometer costs less than a set of strings, but it can save your guitar’s life. • Avoid extremes: Don’t leave your guitar near radiators, fireplaces, or cold windows.” Now, if you’ve ever played music for seniors, you know: they don’t just show up, they show out. And that night, about 60 or 70 of them were waiting for me, dressed head to toe in costumes—witches everywhere, laughter in the air, and that kind of anticipation you can feel before you even plug in a guitar. One woman leaned in as I was setting up and said, “We thought you were coming at 3:30!” It was 3:45, and I wasn’t scheduled until 4. I just smiled and said, “Well, thank you for looking forward to being me.” That’s the kind of energy they brought—ready, eager, alive. I recognized two of the older women from my last visit, and that felt like coming home. This time, I leaned less on my usual ambient blues and gave them more of the classics. I sang Otis Redding, Ray Charles, Willie Nelson, The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, and Creedence Clearwater Revival. And let me tell you—when you hit those first chords of “Sittin’ on the Dock of the Bay” or “Proud Mary,” you can see the years roll back in their eyes. After the set, one person came up to me and said, “You took me back.” And I thought—that’s it. That’s why I do this. Music isn’t just sound; it’s a time machine. It carries us to the places where we first danced, first loved, first believed we could be more. The setup was simple: one amp, one guitar, one mic. Clean tones, Bluetooth backing tracks. I used a Shure mic—the kind you see aerobic instructors using. I’ll admit, I was clumsy with it at first, but once the music started, none of that mattered. Because in that room, on that Halloween night, it wasn’t about perfection. It was about connection. So here’s my takeaway for you, brothers and sisters: never underestimate the power of showing up with what you have, keeping it simple, and giving it all. Sometimes, the smallest setup creates the biggest impact. Thanks for listening. Until next time—keep playing, keep believing, and keep building your legacy. /episode/index/show/32d25532-982a-4170-8dfd-c2d2b1da66f7/id/38953860

From Guns to Guitars -3- 11/07/2025

From Guns to Guitars -3- From Guns to Guitars The will to win, the desire to succeed, the urge to reach your full potential... these are the keys that will unlock the door to personal excellence. Confucius I've been into guns since childhood. I was born in the sixties and all the tv heroes had guns. The firearm culture was a part of Americana then. It was accepted that hunting season would cause a few boys to be absent from school as they spent time with their fathers and uncles in the woods. It was not uncommon to see long guns in the back of pickup trucks. The more rural you were the easier your access to firearms were. They are tools. They were collectable items that were passed down in families. They hadn't invented the term gun violence yet. Guns don't kill people. People kill people. Firearms did not pose the threat of violence that is parroted today. They were still mechanical devices young men used and received as a rite of passage into manhood. The fear of guns and the manifestation of gun control was always there but not to the status it is today. Common sense was more common before the drug wars of the 90s. Gun control was not a business as it is now. I spent thirty years and sacrificed a career, fighting gun control as a firearms instructor and civil rights activist known as the Black Man With A Gun. As a former US Marine, federal police officer and protective agent that had spent a life time in the Intelligence Community, I knew what I was talking about. I have protected a US President, and three high ranking government officials. I have traveled to and worked in thirteen hostile countries. I've carried a sidearm for more than half my life. In 1999, I wrote and published Black Man With A Gun, A Responsible Gun Ownership Manual for African Americans, and rewrote it in 2014. I created a firearms consulting business called African American Arms & Instruction, (A3i) in 1992. I have lobbied the US Congress. I have testified in the state legislatures of Virginia, Texas, South Carolina, Michigan, Maryland, and Wisconsin. I was instrumental in the passing of concealed carry reform in 1992 for Virginia and Texas. I founded the Tenth Cavalry Gun Club, a national pro-gun organization for African Americans. I've failed at more than I have succeeded in. I have tried a lot of things though. I even trademarked Black Man With A Gun (TM). In 2007, I started podcasting and used the connections I had made as activist to interview and share knowledge about firearms, the truth about guns, and its culture. I tried everything on that show. I was a constant on the radio. I have been in at least four documentaries. I've been the voice of reason called upon immediately after a crisis. The podcast became a pro-gun variety show that I just ended in 2023 after almost 800 episodes. It was a great experience. I have connected with thousands of people and at a time was a household name in the firearms community. Today I pass the torch to the young guns that can more effectively reach others through social media than I did at its infancy. I love gun people. They are the traditional Americans that have the same values as my grandparents. There are not as many of them as it used to be so I cherish the ones I know. I like the rest that often fall in the middle of the argument and understand it’s about choice and the protection of life, and not politics. They like me back. Some of these traditionalist are still encouraging me like good friends although we have never met. The internet isn't all bad. These days, I don't debate or post gun pictures. I stopped responding to queries and calls to help others ratings. I have embrace my creative side, to learn the art of guitar. I use music to help those that can't get around like they used to. In the year 2019, I leaned forward with my guitar goals. I’m not alone. People all over are buying guitars according to Fender, Gibson and my friend and luthier extraordinaire Dean Zelinsky. Younger people are learning, shredding and making music with a guitar like never before. The pandemic increased it. I needed it when my wife got sick. Learning the guitar, is a forward-looking process, kindling hope and optimism. You may not know this but it helps regulate stable mood chemicals like serotonin and dopamine. For me, it gives me joy. I can physically chart my progress. It is cheaper than therapy and doesn’t leave me any bad side effects. I've replaced many of the guns I had with guitars. Each one allowed me to learn a style or try something new that helps my progress. I've been buying and selling them so much, I decided to start a side business which also helped me. I now do minor repairs and set ups for guitars and basses to help others get their sound or favorite instruments back. In 2023, it's all about growth to me. I now know what life is all about. I know who I am and what I am not. I try to get along with most people, the rest I leave alone. I am still working on me. I am the only one I can control. Life keeps it interesting because it never fails to throw curveballs at you. Even with all that is happening, I am trying to live my best life. That comes easier when you seek to help someone else. Get busy living, or get busy dying. - Stephen King Few things in the world are more powerful than a positive push. A smile. A world of optimism and hope. A "you can do it" when things are tough. ~ Richard DeVos /episode/index/show/32d25532-982a-4170-8dfd-c2d2b1da66f7/id/38844310

Depression, Loneliness and Melancholy -3- 11/03/2025

Depression, Loneliness and Melancholy -3- i don't have a rhythm yet for the release of these episodes but I am sharing them to jump start me and get me out of my head. I am hoping that Fridays will be the day that you get new episodes. Let me know if this is too much. Branding / Names 🌹 The Story Behind the Rose: A New Logo for Blusician.com There’s a new emblem blooming at Blusician.com—a thorny red rose, bold and unapologetic. It’s more than a logo. It’s a living symbol of the journey, the grit, and the grace that define this one-man band of blues, rock, and ministry. 🎸 Why a Rose? The rose has long stood for passion, beauty, and love—but in the world of blues and gospel, it carries deeper weight. This rose isn’t pristine or polished. It’s weathered. It’s real. It’s the kind of bloom that grows from hard soil and long nights. It’s the kind of love that’s earned. For me, it represents: • The fire of performance—every note played with heart. • The tenderness of ministry—every story shared with soul. • The legacy of those who came before—mentors, family, and fellow travelers whose spirit lives on in every lyric. 🌿 And the Thorns? The thorns matter just as much as the petals. They’re not decoration—they’re testimony. They speak to the quiet, daily weight of being a caregiver. Of showing up for your wife with tenderness and strength, even when your own spirit feels worn thin. Of learning to balance love and responsibility, music and ministry, while the world keeps spinning fast. They speak to the struggle of learning the blues—not just the chords and phrasing, but the feeling. The kind that only comes with time, with loss, with late nights and aching hands. Picking up a guitar in older age isn’t just a hobby—it’s a declaration. That you’re still here. Still creating. Still fighting to turn pain into praise. The thorns remind me that beauty doesn’t come easy. That every performance carries the weight of real life—joy, exhaustion, grace, and grit. They’re a gospel truth and a blues badge. They say: this rose has lived. 🌿 And the Thorns? The thorns matter just as much as the petals. They remind me: • That beauty doesn’t come without struggle. • That faith and music both require resilience. • That every performance carries the weight of real life—joy, pain, and everything in between. The thorns are a nod to the gospel truth: redemption isn’t easy, but it’s worth it. They’re also a blues-rock badge of honor—proof that this journey hasn’t been smooth, but it’s been true. 🔥 What It Means for Blusician.com This logo marks a new chapter. It’s a visual anthem for the kind of work I do: soulful, defiant, and rooted in gratitude. Whether I’m performing at a senior center, a farmers market, or an outdoor rally, this rose goes with me. It’s a symbol of connection—between music and message, between past and present, between artist and audience. So when you see my thorny red rose, know this: it’s not just decoration. It’s declaration. /episode/index/show/32d25532-982a-4170-8dfd-c2d2b1da66f7/id/38874430

About it all. 10/31/2025

About it all. Back in the days when 9mm ammunition cost five dollars a box, I was involved in gun right advocacy. For the next 20 years, I was involved in every monumental legislation across the country-especially that had a connection to so-called minorities. I took the name of “Black man with a Gun” as a homage to Robert F Williams who wrote “Negroes with guns” in 1968. I worked with the NRA, SAF, LEAA, GOA, local and state gun clubs across the country to unify the movement. I made lifelong friends. I played a role in shaping policy and educating the public, helping to grow gun clubs nationwide. My advocacy came at a cost—I sacrificed a career in government and navigated personal challenges at home. But the mission mattered. I launched a podcast originally titled The Urban Shooter, which became a platform for dialogue, education, and empowerment. I published a book and founded the 10th Cavalry Gun Club in 1991, a pioneering space for African-American gun owners. During the Y2K era, I built a website that, for a time, outpaced even the NRA’s in reach and influence. I helped identify and support litigants in major Second Amendment court cases. But beyond politics and policy, my work became a ministry—serving outdoor enthusiasts, law enforcement, and veterans. It was rooted in unity, compassion, and the healing of old divides. Times changed. Politics grew sharper, more divisive. The world shifted, and with it, the culture. People felt emboldened to say anything, publish anything. Social media rewrote the rules of publishing, and its rising stars often had no sense of the history that came before. I wasn’t the young kid anymore. It was time to move forward, to reclaim the pieces I’d left behind. Still, I see traces of my journey—my fingerprints on the struggle. Thirty years later, I found myself returning to music, diving into the sounds of my guitar heroes, the blues masters, the jazz legends. Today, I’m not competing with anyone. I’m learning the blues—physically, metaphorically, spiritually. My latest book, Finding Joy in the Blues, captures some of that wisdom. Since the global pandemic and my wife’s illness, I’ve stepped into the role of caregiver. Social media has become my journal, a space to document my progress and share the journey. Sometimes, the music even sounds good. I’m becoming a performer—and it brings me deep joy. thanks for being a part of this project. /episode/index/show/32d25532-982a-4170-8dfd-c2d2b1da66f7/id/38844275

Rebooting the Podcast 10/30/2025

Rain, Blues, and Revelation at the Warner Theater 2 09/08/2025

Rain, Blues, and Revelation at the Warner Theater 2 Washington D.C. | Benefit for Homeless & Disabled Veterans Saturday night started with a downpour—one of those biblical rains that soaks your socks before you even hit the Metro. Maybe it was the weather, maybe it was the marketing, or maybe it was just D.C. being D.C., but the Warner Theater was barely a third full. By my count, not even 100 folks made it inside. And that’s a shame, because this wasn’t just another gig—it was a fundraiser for homeless and disabled veterans, driven by someone who’s lived that struggle firsthand. Memphis Gold, a.k.a. Chester Chandler, is a bluesman with a heart as bold as his name. A Vietnam Navy vet who once faced homelessness himself, he built this event from the ground up. He didn’t just organize it—he embodied it. That dude could play. I hadn’t heard of him before the TV plug, but I won’t forget him now. A few big names were on the bill but didn’t show. That’s understandable—if the money’s not there, the tour bus doesn’t roll. Still, the night delivered something far more valuable than star power. My original ticket was priced at over $140 for a balcony seat. Felt like gouging. So I paused, thought it through, and grabbed a ticket directly from the theater for under $100. Third row, center orchestra—right beside the critics, writers, and D.C.’s blues scene regulars. Sometimes the best seat in the house is the one you fight for. After the show, I should have stuck around for another hour, talked to a few folks, soaked in the vibe. I was tired, but glad I left my Megalodon-sized truck at home and took the subway. The Metro was eerily empty—like the city had hit pause for the blues. And then came the discovery of the night: Duwayne Burnside. I didn’t know his name before, but I won’t forget it now. Son of the legendary R.L. Burnside, Duwayne brought raw soul, quiet confidence, and a smile that lit up the stage. He sang, played, and owned every moment. No flash, no ego—just pure blues. He was the kind of performer who doesn’t need to announce himself. His music does the talking. The Nighthawks were awesome, blues fire—crushing Muddy Waters standards in their own gritty, glorious way. It was the kind of set that makes you forget the rain, the empty seats, and the ticket drama. It reminded me why we show up, even when the odds say stay home. Sometimes the most memorable moments come when expectations get washed away. Saturday night wasn’t perfect—but it was real. And in the blues, that’s what matters most. --- https://youtu.be/AWMlq2KSxQ0 /episode/index/show/32d25532-982a-4170-8dfd-c2d2b1da66f7/id/38136630

5 Things You Need to Know to Start Playing Electric Guitar 09/01/2025

After Action Report - Indian Bike Week Performance 08/24/2025

The First Time I Met The Blues (3) 08/11/2025

Behind The Rose - Rev. Kenn Blanchard - Blusician.com

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