B.B. King - South Florida - 2012

B.B. King

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RIP B.B. King

I woke up this morning to the news that B.B. King had passed away at 89. It rattled me.

As sure as death and divorce are the two most profoundly negative events we experience as humans, I’m generally not all that moved by news about the passing of celebrities. Losing B.B. King was different.

Why?

B.B. was a blues singer and guitar player. An entertainer. What does it matter that his life ended on May 15, 2105? But one look at the outpouring on social media this morning tells me I’m not alone in this. This man spoke to something in us that we instinctively know was right and good and important. And now the source of that has moved on even while his art remains.

I had the good fortune of seeing B.B. King perform twice.

The first time was in my late teens while away at college. He played in the school auditorium. A small venue with crappy acoustics. I had a good seat probably 10 rows back from the stage. He killed it! We stood and clapped and rattled and rolled. We cheered.

I remember going back to my dorm room reinvigorated with the desire to practice my guitar playing. For a moment the sound of his iconic guitar licks ran through me, out my hands, and into my guitar. I was channeling B.B. Simple blues licks. As important the notes he didn’t play as the notes he did. B.B. was never a pyrotechnic guitar show off. Clean, clear, sweet bluesy pulls. On Lucille, his guitar. He handled her…passionately, carefully, respectfully. A gentleman with the blues.

The second time I saw B.B. perform was around two years ago here in Southwest Florida. Over 40 years since the first time. Again, in a small intimate venue. He was now 87. He sat on stage, up front, resplendent in a fine vested suit. Unchanged but for time and the muted graying of his hair. The place was packed!

B.B. didn’t just perform. He held court! He spoke to us about as much as he played. Weaving in and out of dialogue and song with ease. Totally in control but beyond any need to be so. The audience instinctively knew we were in the presence of a master whose journey had been long and whose time had to be short. B.B. exuded a comfortable warmth and friendliness that had us all enthralled.

He smiled a lot. He was enjoying himself. A brown gray haired musical buddha with an axe, some songs and a few stories. A living legend. We were all thrilled. It sure wasn’t gone then. But now he is.

The picture at the top of this post is one I took of B.B. as he was thanking the audience at the end of that show. He had his coat and hat on. It was time to leave. That was the kind of man he was. Decent. Kind. Thankful.

I guess that’s what I felt when I heard B.B. had passed. Here was a kind decent man who had helped us connect with our shared humanity through music. Who told us, yes, we all get the blues and we all feel the pain that’s part of life. And that it’s ok.

The important thing is…to have experienced the thrill.

Thank you B.B.  Rest in peace sir.

1 thought on “B.B. King”

  1. Being new to the Tortuga club, I just discovered this post. Our experiences here are remarkably similar.. I first heard B.B. king in a small club on the south side of Chicago during law school. The Checkerboard Lounge, the original, was a mecca for the blues and much more. This was not a scheduled performance; he just appeared at the club, joined the band and began playing. For a kid, this was electric. Decades later, I saw him just two years ago in a restored vintage theater, where he sat and held court. It was wonderful. You’re right. He spoke to something in us.

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