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Walter Trout: To Hell And Back

One year ago, Walter Trout appeared on the cover of issue 13 while dying of liver failure.

Now, blues-rock’s greatest escapologist is back to (very) rude health and preparing for a world tour that promises to blow the doors off. “My God,” he tells The Blues, “I was so far gone...”

Launch Skype. Make video call. Take a deep breath. One year ago, during the final, agonising interviews for Walter Trout’s official biography, this was the daily routine. By then, I had learnt to be braced for the face that would greet me down the webcam from Los Angeles. Gaunt. Grim. Sallow. Sunken. A skeleton in spectacles. A man expecting to die.

What a difference a year makes. “I gotta tell you,” booms Trout, a glorious grin spreading across his meaty chops. “This liver thing. Not only is it a great weight loss programme, because you can lose 120 pounds in six months. It also regrows your hair. All the places I was going bald, my hair is growing back. So if you got a guy who wants to cure male pattern baldness, all he needs is a liver transplant. It’s only two million dollars. No problem.”

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