Marcus King has come a long way since he first visited the UK as a 20-year-old guitar prodigy at The O2 Bluesfest in 2016. Now a Grammy-nominated artist and one of the defining voices of modern southern rock, the South Carolina-born singer/ guitarist has poured heart and history into his new album, Darling Blue. Recorded at the legendary Capricorn Studios in Macon, Georgia, it finds him reconnecting with his roots while stretching into country-folk, psychedelic rock and Motown-coloured R&B.
The first music I remember hearing
The first music I can recall was the Marshall Tucker Band, especially Can’t You See. My grandfather played fiddle and guitar, and he loved Charlie Daniels and Merle Haggard. My dad was more of a rock’n’roller. He put me on to Hendrix, Cream, The Allman Brothers and all three Kings: Albert, Freddie and BB.
The first song I performed live
An instrumental version of Amazing Grace [18th-century hymn of redemption]. I was eight years old, playing alongside my dad, my grandfather and my uncles at a church function. Gospel music was always around our house.
The guitar hero
Eric Clapton. Cream, Blind Faith and Derek & The Dominos – all those groups I adored and Clapton was always at the epicentre. He was always where the most interesting music was happening. Another reason I’m drawn to him is that he spent much of his career proving himself as a writer and vocalist, not just a guitar slinger. I’ve always resonated with that.
The singer
Aretha Franklin, hands down. As a kid I was deep into Hendrix and Stevie Ray Vaughan, but I wanted inspiration beyond the guitar – to make my playing sound like a harmonica, a tenor sax, or most of all a voice. Aretha was that voice.
The songwriter
Blaze Foley. His songs captured loneliness like no one else. When I first heard him, it stopped me in my tracks. If I Could Only Fly, which Merle Haggard covered, and Clay Pigeons, which John Prine recorded, are perfect examples of that quiet heartbreak.
The greatest album of all time
Pet Sounds by The Beach Boys. It’s Brian Wilson’s magnum opus. The purest example of American recording craft. I think future generations will look at Pet Sounds as one of the most important recordings of all time, and a perfect snapshot of what American pop genius sounded like in that era.
The best live album
At Fillmore East by The Allman Brothers Band. It captured their energy and the atmosphere of a room where people came not just to be entertained but to feel something spiritual. Those shows often ran past midnight, and the audience never tired.
The best record I’ve made
I think Darling Blue [2025] is our finest work – and that’s what you hope for, right? There’s a track called The Shadows that feels like the closest I’ve come to touching something divine. Another song, Carry Me Home, feels like the first page of a new chapter. I’m proud of how we learned to serve the song, not ourselves.
The worst record I’ve made
The toughest one for me was the self-titled Marcus King Band album [2016]. We were young, under pressure and caught between two worlds – the label pushing one way, the jam-band crowd pushing another. There was a lot of noise around us – management, A&R, even substance abuse. It was a turbulent time and you can hear that in the music.
The most underrated band ever
I’m torn between Delaney & Bonnie and Little Feat. Delaney & Bonnie were the glue that held so many great players together, yet never got their due. Lowell George of Little Feat was a genius.
My guilty pleasure
The one that surprised my band when I played it to them was the new Sabrina Carpenter record, Man’s Best Friend. The production floored me – the sonics, the vibe, the arrangements. Stunning.
My Saturday night party song
Our pump-up song before every show is House Party by the J. Geils Band. If there’s ever a song that could actually get me on a dance floor – which is rare – it’d be Be Young, Be Foolish, Be Happy by The Tams. Both songs remind me that music’s supposed to feel good.
The song I want played at my funeral
Ponta de Areia by Wayne Shorter, written by Milton Nascimento. I used to be obsessed with planning my own funeral. I was depressed and I was suicidal, and I just felt like it would be a party that I could plan myself. When I came off antidepressants, I started feeling everything too intensely. My grandmother had just passed – she was the closest woman in my life – and I’d never cried for her. Then this song came on, and it brought me to tears. I still don’t know what the words mean – it’s all in Portuguese – but the music and the voice said everything.
Darling Blue by the Marcus King Band is out now via American Recordings/Republic Records.