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" In some ways, B.B. contradicts the blues essence. In other ways, he epitomizes it. "
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Heather Gates"I don't think they understand this Southern accent," B.B. jokingly tells his band during a one-night gig at the Academy, a national indoor arena in Birmingham, England. Through song they might understand. He belts out "Night Life," a borrowed and slightly modified Willie Nelson song. "Listen to the blues. Listen to what they're sayin'. Listen to the blues. Listen to what they're playin'," sings B.B. The crowd gets it, finally. No doubt B.B. King enthralls his audiences, teasing and enticing them to love only his style of blues. His fans can't get enough, it seems. He's the king of the blues, after all. Maybe they hope that if they see him perform live, buy his CDs or talk about him, they'll become part of an illustrious clique of B.B. King aficionados. B.B. has been doing this for so long, in so many venues, however, that likely he'll never realize how much his fans love him. Indeed, it appears he goes on auto-pilot before performances, saying the things and going through the motions that please his audiences most. Often he refers to his beloved Lucille, Mississippi and to the hard-knocks life as a bluesman. B.B., however, hasn't lived in Mississippi for years, opting instead for a home in Las Vegas, a city that, in some ways, mirrors B.B.'s inclination toward the glitzy and glamorous. Due to a canny management team, and lucrative recordings and tours the last four decades, his hard-knocks life is much cushier as well. In some ways, B.B. contradicts the blues essence. In other ways, he epitomizes it. It's that variance that blues fans either embrace or loathe. Some say he's a supreme blues player, a legend who will never be replicated. Others feel he has become too much of a showman and is too unapproachable. At the extreme, some contend he's left his roots in search of better rewards; the Delta has become nothing more than a shtick for his performances. Certainly, however, B.B.'s life story qualifies him to play blues: growing up on a plantation between Itta Bena and Indianola, Miss.; being the cousin of bluesman Bukka White; and traveling Highway 61, the blues vine that wrapped the Delta greats with Memphis and beyond. And he's always been a traveling man, like Robert Johnson and Blind Lemon Jefferson. After recording in 1949 for the Bihari Brothers in Memphis, B.B. hit the road for Los Angeles. He hasn't stopped since, playing nearly 300 one-night gigs a year. Unlike his blues forefathers, though, B.B. travels with an entourage of back-up musicians and a management team, headed by B.B.'s longtime manager, Sid Seidenberg. B.B. almost has become untouchable. "You know, you can speak to Tony Blair and Margaret Thatcher easier," said a British security guard before B.B. took the Academy stage. Seidenberg's team keeps close reins, not only on the man himself, but on his image as well. In addition to Seidenberg's New York City crew, two British promoters, one in London and another in Cheshire, pitched B.B.'s six-stop UK tour. B.B.'s latest CD, Deuces Wild (see review on Page 16), is another example of Seidenberg's savvy management. Released Nov. 4, Deuces was the creation of B.B. and Seidenberg. "The idea this time out was to find those artists who could point to him as a legitimate influence and provide access to a wide contemporary audience," writes Dave Rubin in Guitar magazine. MCA records looked for available talent, with B.B. giving the final nod of approval. Selected artists chose from previously recorded B.B. songs or those "that were considered to have strong creative potential for his abilities," Rubin wrote. Musicians including Joe Cocker, Willie Nelson (who sings "Night Life" with B.B.) and the Rolling Stones contribute on Deuces. (Of his guitar playing with the Stones' Keith Richards, King says, "Keith Richards was straight that day and he was hot. He was right on my tail no matter where I went.") Bonnie Raitt also adds vocals and plays slide guitar on "Baby I Love You," and a perennial B.B. favorite, Eric Clapton, changes things up a bit on "Rock Me Baby," from a "sexy shuffle of the original recording into an incantatory reggae groove," Rubin says. B.B., too, has a knack for performing. He can play a crowd as well as he plays Lucille, interspersing his performance with comical gestures and antics, and stories of musical luminaries he has met. He'll pretend to pull the plug on the keyboard. Sniffle when he sings about being mistreated. Throw guitar picks to his fans. His show is slick, backed by the best jazz-and-blues musicians. Everything seems flashy, right down to the purple dinner jackets worn by the back-up band - a far cry from most Delta juke joint stages. Has he become too polished and too much of a blues businessman? Seidenberg's management group isn't the friendliest, nor is it the most cooperative group with which to work. As it's the first line of "B.B. defense," it's hard not to think differently about the King himself. B.B.'s group also has hit some hard times with their highest-profile businesses, the B.B. King's Blues Clubs. Currently, they're in litigation with the Memphis club's local investment group. Among other issues, the local investors contend King hasn't made enough scheduled appearances, as specified by contract. The B.B. King's Blues Club in Los Angeles, which opened in 1994, also has been struggling to stay afloat. Amidst sour business deals, B.B. continues to thrive. Despite turning 72 in September, B.B. still belts out his time-worn songs, plucks his Gibson B.B. King Lucille model and flirts with audiences in a way no other musician has, or will ever, duplicate. Although he now calls Las Vegas home, B.B. still supports his birthplace and the region. He's contributed money and "moral support" to the creation of the Delta Blues Museum in Clarksdale, Miss., and supported the Center for Southern Culture at the University of Mississippi, in Oxford, for example. His mantel of awards and other distinctions also bear witness to his support. Not only has he received honorary doctorates from Yale University and Berklee College of Music in Boston, but he also has received one from Tougaloo College in Mississippi and, most recently, from Rhodes College in Memphis. Indeed, B.B. perhaps has been the best thing the blues has seen. He elevated it to a wider audience with his crossover hit, "The Thrill Is Gone," in 1970. Through the years, he's continued to expose blues to the masses, like in 1987, when he collaborated with the Irish rock band U2 on "When Love Comes To Town." Most recently, he has appeared in Northwest Airlines and M&M commercials. And, too, B.B. appreciates the talents of those that work with him. He claps after every back-up musician's solo and gives a hearty thumbs-up signal to the audience. Of Leon Warren, his guitar player on the UK tour, B.B. tells the Academy crowd, "He's so good, I call him the fabulous Warren." Nor does he let his ego interfere when he praises other legendary performers. "I was in Nashville right after I recorded 'Night Life' the first time (in 1996). I was playing at a place called the Exit Inn, and I was feeling good, had a few drinks, you know, and was getting into 'Night Life.' When I got to that part about 'Listen to the blues...' the bridge part of it, I looked up and saw Willie Nelson staring at me, and almost fainted." Afterward, however, Nelson went backstage and compli-mented King on his rendition. The two have been friends since then. Aside from all the hoopla that surrounds B.B., fans who've met him, say he's just as friendly in person as he is on stage. Maybe he has become too polished. He's been doing this for nearly 50 years; after that much time, anyone should have their act together. And maybe he has become too much of a blues businessman. Through his ventures, however, blues music has been exposed to a wider audience and, as a result, has captured more fans. In turn, it has opened the doors for younger blues musicians to keep the music alive. No longer will the masses of blues fans gain access to their King. He's become too big, too great a music legend. But they love him anyway, and he still puts on a great show. Whatever you think about his path to fame and his resulting riches, he's deserved them all, and never could we have asked for a better ambassador for the blues.
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