Air, Blood and Love

Yes yes, this is where the compulsion takes me tonight...

I'm watching The Jazz Channel Presents BB King, and you know, the man is like a family member to me.

He'll launch into the first few notes of "Let the Good Times Roll" or "Caldonia," and I look at Kelli with a big smile on my face. She's nose-first in books, where I was until 20 minutes ago, so she doesn't notice.

This music makes me happy! Just a few notes or words and it's '86 at the Arena Theater again, and Tully and I are mesmerized by the Man Himself, holding court among 5000 who are in the know.

Or it's '93 and I'm watching him record his second Austin City Limits appearance. Not one other damn person seems to recognize his songs in the first few notes like me (where are the other fans??), but I don't care.

Or it's 1975 and I'm listening to a 45 of "The Thrill is Gone" with "So Excited" on the b-side. I've never seen the man, but I picture him as white for some reason.

Maybe it's '88 and I'm in some beach eatery with a small stage. They've called a gal from the kitchen staff out to join the surf band for some blues songs. She plays guitar upside down and left-handed like Albert King. A band girlfriend tells me I'm welcome to join them onstage, and I go into an extended, Walter Mitty-like fantasy in which I take the stage and play the solo from "The Thrill is Gone" note for note.

I don't.

***

I could have, though.

***

This is air to me, it's blood and love. I'll wake up some morning, maybe even some morning soon, and he'll be gone. I might have to take the day off from work, call in sick or something. But heck, the man's been putting out records since the '40s; I reckon he's done enough. A lot of them sit on my shelf in there, and a lot of them are great.

***

You know, he got such a modest start... He was driving a tractor on a plantation, and he screwed up. Drove it into something, realized he had a big, expensive problem, and just walked off. That was his cue, folks. He left the farm and from that instant on was a professional musician.

The plantation owner was interviewed many years later and said the tractor issue would have been no big deal. He didn't seem to hold a grudge.

***

What is this man still doing on the road? Surely he doesn't need the money. Does touring institutionalize a man like prison? Do you get so used to sleeping on a bus that a hotel room or quiet house won't do? Can someone really love it this much?

***

This isn't just some other guy who put out some records. When Buddy Holly died, he'd been touring for almost a decade. When the Beatles broke up he'd been doing it for a couple (of decades, that is). When he had a big hit with U2 he was pushing 40 years as a professional, touring musician. ""When Love Comes to Town" came out nearly 20 years ago, by the way...

***

So, if you know a guy who has some BB King Records (and guess what--you do), ask to hear "The Thrill is Gone" or "Why I Sing the Blues" or "Five Long Years" or "Three O'Clock Blues" or "Chains and Things" or "Paying the Cost to Be the Boss."

Thank you for allowing me to indulge myself.