Jun 11

Jun 11 Chicago Bluesfest (Day 3)

Once again, the opening segment on the Pritzker Pavilion stage was the day’s highlight. Thursday, Bluesfest acknowledged Erwin Helfer’s boogie woogie piano work. Then yesterday, the Festival showered Bob Stroger with warranted accolades for his contribution to Chicago-style electric Blues. Today, the Festival paid honor to Chicago Soul, highlighting the work of Gene Barge, Cicero Blake, and Willie Henderson. No Motown, Stax, or Atlantic Soul; just the oft overlooked Chicago Sound. The tribute recalled the likes of Barbara Acklin, the Chi-Lites, Carl Davis, and Tyrone Davis, among others. Acklin’s daughter, Samota, performed, as did Ruby Andrews, Joe Barr, and Willie White.

Also on hand were backup singers Theresa Davis, Mae Koen, and Diane Madison. Koen and Davis spent 25 years with Aretha Franklin; it doesn’t get much better than that. Davis was a member of Grammy-award winners, the Emotions. She also worked with Otis Clay, Tyrone Davis, Gene Chandler, Syl Johnson, Ramsey Lewis, and a number of others.

As Willie Henderson stood in an elegant black suit with a pork-pie hat atop his head, all I could think of was the long gone halls and theatres where people danced late into the evening to what we were about to hear. Those must have been some wild, out-of-control parties, going early into Sunday, with church services to follow for those who did not collapse from exhaustion.

Tyrone Davis was always a favorite of mine, so when Willie White and Joe Barr teamed up for a rather lengthy rendition of Turn Back the Hands of Time, I was in Seventh Heaven.

When the honorees first sat down before Mayor Lori Lightfoot’s proclamations were read, I was struck when an apparent fan handed Gene Barge what appeared to be a mint condition copy of the Gary US Bonds’ 1961 smash hit, Quarter to Three, still in the picture sleeve. At the song’s opening, handclaps make way for Barge’s saxophone, which continues to hold its own as Bonds begins to sing “swinging on the sax” exhortating the sax palyer to “Blow, Daddy.” That’s 61 years ago, a calculation that resonated when I noticed Barge intently staring at the picture sleeve he held in his hand, most likely traveling back and then forward over the arc of his 95-years. It brought back a similar experience for me: When going through my mother’s files following her death, I found my third-grade report card, with handwritten comments from Mrs. Bartlett. I was transfixed, making a similar mental journey.

We were all once youngsters, but as Barge must have realized, we can’t turn back the hands of time. Certainly a bittersweet moment, but when Willie Henderson raised his arm in front of his formally-attired orchestra, the sounds were anything but bitter.

And then there was 84-year old Cicero Blake, whose wheelchair was positioned to the left of the three backup singers. He lit up when someone handed him the mike. The man still has those infectious pipes, as well as a performer’s drive, as the smile across his face attested.

The tribute to Chicago Soul was a tough act to follow, with the challenge going to emerging artist Nick Alexander, another young guitar phenom, who spent a large portion of his set prancing and preening along extended platforms that architect Frank Gehry must have realized flashy performers would use to highlight their dance moves. At one point, he took an extended walk into the audience, as a multitude of photographers chased him up the aisles, blocking each other’s shots.

Melody Angel, who has fully emerged, immediately followed Alexander, playing her trademark purple and white guitar, plastered with stickers revealing her idols, which include Chuck Berry, Jimi Hendrix, Prince, and Slash. Her set included Hendrix’s Hey Joe and Willie Dixon’s Spoonful, as well as an original, Bad, Bad Seed. Over the last five or so years, Angel has become a festival favorite.

At this point, I want to raise a minor complaint with today’s programming. Both Alexander and Angel are talented musicians, who delivered rousing performances, but programming two acts heavily inspired by Jimi Hendrix’s pyrotechnics back to back undercut each performer’s power by dipping them into a pool of homogeneous waters. Moreover, this redundancy is problematic because Hendrix’s guitar-driven rock doesn’t come close to representing every idiom in the Blues playbook. Some might respond, “You are just nostalgic about those old Soul sounds from the late Sixties and early Seventies.”

While it is true that I am nostalgic, Jimi Hendrix died over half a century ago. Those were fresh faces playing his music, but their efforts were equally steeped in nostalgia. Had Jimi not aspirated his own vomit, his 80-year self might well have been sitting in a wheelchair on that stage. Having said that, much credit is due Hendrix’s creative powers because nobody views his music as a trip down memory lane when played today. By the way, I have heard “Hey Joe” four times since the start Bluesfest, which I once again find problematic.

The main stage programming wrapped up with performances by Rico McFarland and Ronnie Baker Brooks. McFarland’s band is also guitar driven, but he mines a more conventional vein, focusing on driving blues that keeps younger people coming back on Saturday night to clubs like Kingston Mines.

Ronnie Baker Brooks also fronts a guitar-driven band. Tonight he was dressed in a flashy red and white shirt. I enjoyed watching him move around what was a relatively darkly lit stage, with Brooks functioning like a beacon.

As usual, I wandered around throughout the day, making it to Rosa’s tent on the southside of Millennium Park, as well as the Mississippi Juke Joint stage on the north end of the park, where I saw Dexter Allen and Cedric Burnside perform.

As should be apparent, I would prefer a little more variety, but overall, today was another excellent day of music. Let’s not forget, all the artists appearing this year have deep roots in Chicago, demonstrating the pivotal role that Chicago plays in the history of the Blues.

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