I'm a big fan of the blues, and have been for just about as long as I've been a musician (about 12 years). But I never really understood the Blues until I moved to Mississippi- the birthplace of the blues, and of America's music. Hearing the blues and enjoying what you hear is one thing, but to actually go to the heart of the Mississippi Delta and see Delta bluesmen play the blues firsthand is a truly magnificent experience. I got to make my first blues pilgrimage to the Delta last Spring for the Juke Joint Festival in Clarksdale.
But just this past weekend, I was invited to the stage by the undisputed King of the Blues, BB King. And he called me by name as he complimented my dance moves, too. More below the fold on how this happened.
(I regret that this diary is devoid of pictures. I was preoccupied having the time of my life.)
B.B.'s Resume
Riley "B.B." King is 84 years old. I'm pretty sure the average American life expectancy for males is currently in the mid to late seventies, if they're lucky. It's probably less in Mississippi, as we rank last in just about every health category; we are the most obese, we have the highest rates of diabetes, and our habit of frying everything while ignoring things like sidewalks and bike paths when we build roads doesn't help these statistics much. So it's pretty incredible that a Mississippian with diabetes has lived to be 84, and even more incredible that that same Mississippian still plays concerts. I honestly think it's the blues that keeps him alive.
Every year, B.B. King tours all around the world- he's widely respected amongst all genres, and nearly everyone in the music business today has borrowed from BB King or the Delta blues in some form or fashion. BB King's guitar skills are unparalleled- he's ranked as the #3 best guitarist of all time by Rolling Stone magazine, and a majority of guitarists on that list say B.B. King was and is their hero. He's ranked only behind the late Duane Allman and the late Jimi Hendrix, so it could be said that he's the greatest living guitar player in the history of recorded music.
The Ambassador of the Blues
He was born in Itta Bena, Mississippi, just a few miles from Indianola. He bought his first guitar in 1937 at the tender age of 12, for a mere $15.00. He married twice later in life, but those marriages failed, because his spouses couldn't handle him being on the road for 250 nights a year. B.B. King's longest-lasting marriage has been with his one true love, Lucille. She's a beautiful, black, curvy Gibson variant (She's a variant because she has no F-holes at the top, as per B.B.'s request) of the ES-355. And she's been with him through the thick and thin, ever since the Winter of 1949. King was playing at a dance hall in Arkansas when a fight broke out between two men fighting over a woman, who was presumably named Lucille. They knocked a barrel of kerosene over that was being used to heat the building, and the place quickly went up in flames. King realized his $30 Gibson guitar was still inside, so he endured the flames to rescue her. B.B. and the guitar survived. Two others in the building did not. King decided to name the guitar and all other subseuqent guitars "Lucille," as a reminder of how stupid it was to run into a burning building or fight over women.
B.B. king has played over 15,000 performances in his lifetime, and has filled stadiums all across America, England, Denmark, Morocco, France, Germany, Brazil, Luxembourg, Switzerland, and a multitude of other places. He won a lifetime achievement Grammy award in 1987 (the year I was born) and still inspires musicians to this day.
But every year, B.B. King comes back home to Indianola, Mississippi, to play for his hometown.
From Biloxi to Indianola
I was driving back from the Gulf Coast after spending a week in Biloxi/Gulfport/Ocean Springs covering the oil spill's landing on our shores. A friend of mine in the state legislature called while I was driving back, and asked me if I was going to the B.B. King homecoming show that night, which I had completely forgotten about since Indianola's representative invited all the legislators back in January, when the session started. I gave him a "hell yes," and he told me the show would probably start around 7:30. If I drove fast enough, I could arrive in Jackson by 5:15. Indianola is about 2 hours and change North of Jackson.
So I then proceeded to call my friend, who edits the local alt paper in Jackson that I occasionally freelance for. She couldn't make it because of work, but the couchsurfer she was hosting apparently loved the blues and was a big B.B. King fan, so I got her number and invited her to come instead.
(Quick aside- the couchsurfer was a really cool girl named Tashi, who was my age. She was born in Nepal but came to the states from Belgium, and is in the middle of a three-month tour of the US. she had originally sent me a Couchsurfing request while I was on the coast, and I regretfully had to decline since I wasn't in town. I didn't think I'd get to meet her before she left, and likewise, she told me she had never expected to see B.B. King after just spending two days in Mississippi.)
I picked up Tashi and we hit the road North almost as soon as I had returned to Jackson. I cranked up a mix CD I had lying on top of my stack, and we got to know each other while watching the reddened gold sunset over the vast green expanses of the Mississippi Delta, windows rolled down, sunroof back, wind howling, me singing, Tashi laughing at the whole thing, and occasionally pausing in awe to snap pictures of the Delta landscape.
It was a little after 7:15 when we got to Indianola. I didn't have any cash on hand, and neither did she. However, having just came from the coast, I had my press badge in my pocket and a bag full of recording equipment. Tashi had her two cameras around her neck. Admission was $18, but I got us in free, with B.B. King Homecoming press credentials to boot. I was almost going to buy a t-shirt until I realized that a press pass from the festival was a much cooler souvenir.
The opening bands were spectacular- I even recognized a few of the musicians who had graced the stage, local boys from Jackson whom I had played with a few weeks ago. Grady Champion is a harmonica player from Canton, MS, just North of Jackson. He won this year's International Blues Competition in Memphis. His guitarist is a Delta native named Jarekeus Singleton, who is a phenomenal guitarist in his own right (No, really. Watch the video I linked to and see for yourself). Jarekeus recognized me from the stage and gave me a friendly wave as I danced. Tashi was too shy to dance; she took pictures instead.
A few beers and a plate of catfish later (Tashi had never had fried catfish before, but she's a big fan now) Tashi and I watched a gorgeous fireworks display as the sun set. My legislator friend had since joined us, and popped a lawn chair beside where we were, and told us he had planned on "getting my drink on and raising holy hell until B.B. comes out." The crowd of about 500 had doubled in size at this point, and B.B. was set to take the stage at 10 PM. The bugs were biting, and the air was thick with the aroma of funnel cakes, beer, and fried meat on sticks. Tashi and I decided to move up front to get the best view. There was a fence surrounding a 100-foot proximity between the stage and the field where the crowd was, so we got right up next to the fence. I later learned that this fenced-in area was for press to take pictures. So, Tashi went and got her cameras, and while the film was full, we went inside the fence and pretended to snap a few pictures and then took advantage of our good seats and enjoyed the rest of the show.
Then B.B.'s band came out. They played a few jams, and then a horn player introduced B.B. King himself.
Getting Onstage with B.B. King
B.B. King wore a loose, flowing orange/yellowish button-down shirt with a red paisley pattern. Lucille hung around his neck, gleaming under the stage lights. Two of his bandmates escorted him to a chair at the front of a stage, where he remained for the entirety of the set. He gave the crowd somewhat of a hard time for not dancing enough or screaming enough. The crowd was chill, B.B. was chill, and he played just as beautifully as he did on his recordings. Every now and then he would nod enjoyably at a funky lick his band was playing, and he'd take his hand off of Lucille's neck, stick his fist in the air, and shimmy in his seat.
Then, about halfway through his set, B.B. King made an announcement.
"I wanna see how all you little children shake your boogie. We're gonna have us a dance contest. But first, I need two judges. I need a gentleman, and a female."
Being up at the front of the stage in the fenced-in area, I extended my arms in invitation. B.B. King pointed directly at me.
"We got us a gentleman right here! Come on up."
The security guard by the stage steps walked to the side and gestured for me to come on stage. I kept my cool, took a deep breath, and walked onto the stage. B.B. King extended his hand and leaned away from his mic.
"B.B., it's great to meet you. You're the man," I shouted over the sound of the band.
"Thank you son," B.b. King said to me. "What's your name?"
"(FC&B)," I said.
B.B. King leaned back onto his mic.
"Alright y'all, (FC&B) is gonna judge the boys. I need two white boys and two black boys..."
8 children came onstage, four boys, four girls, and a female judge. Races evenly distributed to B.B. King's satisfaction. The band played "These Are The Good Times" (folks in my generation might call it "Rapper's Delight") and the kids broke it down and got funky with it. B.B. then instructed me to hold my hand over each kid's head, and the crowd would cheer based on how much they liked that particular kid's dancing. B.B. King gave all the contestants $5 and a hug before sending them back to their parents. He did this two more times, me judging all the boys who came onstage. I'd say I stood right next to B.B. King as this went on for 15 to 20 minutes. B.B. then told the crowd to give me and the female judge a round of applause, and we were escorted back down to the front of the stage.
I continued to dance afterward until the end of the set, when B.B. decided to finish the show with his rendition of "When The Saints Go Marching In." I did a fast twist-shuffle, kicking off my sandals, swiveling my bare feet as fast as they would go on the Delta grass. And then B.B. King got back on his mic, calling me by name.
"(FC&B), you really know how to dance! I just picked you to judge, but you can really boogie. Go on and shake ya boogie, (FC&B)."
I grinned ear to ear, waved at B.B., and continued to dance. The show ended and crowds began to disperse, while a few dozen others went to the front of the stage to get pictures of B.B. King. I went back up to the stage and offered my hand to B.B. again. He leaned over and shook it, saying to me,
"(FC&B), you're gonna come see me at Club Ebony afterwards, right?"
"Most definitely," I said. "Where is that, exactly?"
"Downtown Indianola, just down the street," B.B. King said. "I'll be playing there until about 3 o'clock."
"Well I'm definitely gonna be there!" I said, not breaking eye contact.
"You better," B.B. said.
It was aroud 12:30 when me, Tashi, and my legislator friend left the field. We drove to Club Ebony, although there was a $10 cover and what looked like a mile-long line just to get in the place. Tashi and I had decided that there were few things cooler than getting onstage with B.B. King and having your dance moves complimented by a living legend, so we were content with making the 2 hour drive back to Jackson.
At the end of all that, I can now say that nobody is allowed to jest at my dancing in public forevermore. If they do, I can just say,
"Well, B.B. King says I dance good."
And really, what do you say about someone's dancing after that?