B.B. King
Though expected, the death of B.B. King shook the music world. He was certainly one of the great American musicians of the past, and current, century, and perhaps the most well-known practitioner of that peculiar American music, the Blues.
Of course, being a white-bread kid, I never knew much about him. In doing some reading about him, it is easier to understand why he escaped my purview--he missed out on both the rock and roll explosion in the '50s, which picked up other black artists like Little Richard and Chuck Berry, and then again the R&B wave in the 1960s. It wasn't until he played the Fillmore East in the late '60s, his audience made up of white hippies, that he knew he had finally made the mainstream.
I've spent the last week listening to his greatest hits collection. The music is both raw and elegant, and while he is known as one of the great electric guitarists, I was most taken with his voice, which seems to come from a bottomless well of emotion, both pain and joy, but as it is the blues, mostly pain. Consider "How Blue Can You Get?," (written by Jane Feather), which begins with King singing, "I've been down-hearted, ever since the day we met." Wow. He goes on:
"I gave you a brand new Ford
But you said: I want a Cadillac
I bought you a ten dollar dinner
and you said: thanks for the snack
I let you live in my penthouse
you said it just a shack
I gave seven children
and now you wanna give them back."
(Speaking of children, King remarkably had 15--with 15 different women).
His most famous song came in 1970, a big hit called "The Thrill Is Gone," which gave headline writers an easy out when his passing came. It is one of the great recordings of our time, not only for King's mournful voice, but for the stunning arrangement of strings and horns by Bert DeCoteaux. It's one of those songs I could put on repeat for quite a while, even if it is a depressing summation of how love has died;
"The thrill is gone
It's gone away from me
The thrill is gone baby The thrill is gone away from me
Although, I'll still live on
But so lonely I'll be"
King could be sing a happy song. He teams with Bono and U2 for "When Loves Come to Town," and with Robert Cray on "Playing With My Friends." On "Better Not Look Down," there's this amusing section, when King, walking down the street in London, is recognized by Queen Elizabeth, who says:
"Oh B.B., sometimes it's so hard to pull things together
Could you tell me what you think I ought to do?
And I said:
Better not look down
If you want to keep on flying
Put the hammer down
Keep it full speed ahead"
I wonder if Her Majesty would know who B.B. King was, and if she's into the blues. Probably not, but you never know. King touched a lot of lives, and his influence spread far and wide.
Of course, being a white-bread kid, I never knew much about him. In doing some reading about him, it is easier to understand why he escaped my purview--he missed out on both the rock and roll explosion in the '50s, which picked up other black artists like Little Richard and Chuck Berry, and then again the R&B wave in the 1960s. It wasn't until he played the Fillmore East in the late '60s, his audience made up of white hippies, that he knew he had finally made the mainstream.
I've spent the last week listening to his greatest hits collection. The music is both raw and elegant, and while he is known as one of the great electric guitarists, I was most taken with his voice, which seems to come from a bottomless well of emotion, both pain and joy, but as it is the blues, mostly pain. Consider "How Blue Can You Get?," (written by Jane Feather), which begins with King singing, "I've been down-hearted, ever since the day we met." Wow. He goes on:
"I gave you a brand new Ford
But you said: I want a Cadillac
I bought you a ten dollar dinner
and you said: thanks for the snack
I let you live in my penthouse
you said it just a shack
I gave seven children
and now you wanna give them back."
(Speaking of children, King remarkably had 15--with 15 different women).
His most famous song came in 1970, a big hit called "The Thrill Is Gone," which gave headline writers an easy out when his passing came. It is one of the great recordings of our time, not only for King's mournful voice, but for the stunning arrangement of strings and horns by Bert DeCoteaux. It's one of those songs I could put on repeat for quite a while, even if it is a depressing summation of how love has died;
"The thrill is gone
It's gone away from me
The thrill is gone baby The thrill is gone away from me
Although, I'll still live on
But so lonely I'll be"
King could be sing a happy song. He teams with Bono and U2 for "When Loves Come to Town," and with Robert Cray on "Playing With My Friends." On "Better Not Look Down," there's this amusing section, when King, walking down the street in London, is recognized by Queen Elizabeth, who says:
"Oh B.B., sometimes it's so hard to pull things together
Could you tell me what you think I ought to do?
And I said:
Better not look down
If you want to keep on flying
Put the hammer down
Keep it full speed ahead"
I wonder if Her Majesty would know who B.B. King was, and if she's into the blues. Probably not, but you never know. King touched a lot of lives, and his influence spread far and wide.
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