Jun 7

Jun 7 Bluesfest 2024--Day 1

Chicago, Chicago Tourism, Festivals, Musicians, Performance, Things to Do in Chicago

The folks at the much beloved DCase—The City of Chicago’s Department of Cultural Affairs and Special Events—were both blessed and thrilled today, as were the thousands who turned out for the first day of the open-air portion of Chicago’s Bluesfest. The skies were clear, the temperature was not too hot, nor too cold, with a refreshing breeze blowing off Lake Michigan.

I started today’s adventure in the Blues at Mississippi Juke Joint Stage located on Millennium Park’s South Promenade. Chicago stalwart Nora Jean Wallace was the opener, bringing her gospel-inflected Blues vocals to the party. There has been a humorous meme circulating on Facebook entitled Rules for the Blues. Rule 2 reads, "I got a good woman" is a bad way to begin the Blues, unless you stick something nasty in the next line like, "I got a good woman, with the meanest face in town." Wallace is adherent to Rule 2. “Her man hurt her; She can’t live without her man,” or something simple like that. But no one was looking for erudite Bob Dylan lyrics from Wallace. It’s all about her rich voice, supported by a highly competent band, particularly the drummer. The rhythm section built the gymnastic apparatus, which supported Wallace’s vocal moves.

Wallace certainly has paid her dues, as recounted when she told how she wrote a song while working with the legendary guitarist Jimmy Dawkins. Somehow, he ended up with 50% of the royalties. Despite what she apparently views as a wrong, Wallace lamented Dawkins’ recent passing, as we all do.

During the day, I am a ping-pong ball, so before Wallace had closed out her set, I was headed to the Rosa’s Lounge stage located on the North Promenade. Eighty-six year-old Lil’ Jimmy Reed was performing with the much younger pianist, Ben Levin. Reed was at centerstage, well-dressed in black, with silver flourishes, playing guitar and harp. His guitar exproduced wonderful tremolo effects, with electric reverb subtly introduced. Like Wallace, Reed followed Rule 2, as in “Can’t anyone harm you baby.”

But time waits for no one at Bluesfest, so I headed back to the South Promenade, to catch Keith Johnson & The Big Muddy Band. Dressed all in white (a photographer’s nightmare), Johnson, who is the great nephew of Muddy Waters, used his silky-smooth voice—it probably violates one of the Rules for the Blues—and infectious stage presence to salute his great uncle. Particularly notable was his rendition of Hoochie Coochie Man. Ever the crowd pleaser, Johnson took a rather long walk through the seating area, at one point standing on a bench as everyone with an iPhone converged on him for an Instagram moment.

I much preferred Johnson’s rhythm section to Reed’s. The latter’s was heavy-handed, while Reed’s exhibited some nuance.

For the remainder of the afternoon, I continued to ping-pong between the two stages. On the Mississippi Juke Stage, I heard J’Cnae’s seductive voice singing a Stevie Wonder number that drove me nuts—I had heard it a thousand times before, but couldn’t put a title to it. I believe it was Isn’t She Lovely but I could be wrong. The song served as a signal that J’Cnae’s set had its roots in Soul and R&B rather than hard core Blues, but there is nothing wrong with her stylistic choices.

I also checked out Ivy Ford, who is a talented guitar player, with a rich voice. She was performing on the Rosa’s Lounge stage. To my ears, the person working the soundboard did her a disservice by pumping the volume way up on the bass drum and bass guitar. On her recordings, Ford’s voice is far more nuanced, as is her guitar playing.

As always happens at Bluesfest, the evening performances in the Pritzker Pavilion pulled me away from the two smaller stages. Fortunately, whoever programmed the evening’s music, made missing several performances well worth my while. Following the national anthem, Corey Harris took the stage, with just his voice and acoustic guitar. Everyone who came before Harris toda, was electrified and loud, particularly the bass guitar and bass drums, which often overpowered the vocals.

Harris offered an object lesson: No electricity required to make a powerful impression. For one hour, Harris worked his magic, putting a captivating spell on everyone in Millennium Park. His selections included songs by Mississippi Fred McDowell, Big Bill Broonzy, and Charlie Patton, if I recall correctly. He tapped the hollow body of his guitar, sang without accompanying himself on the guitar, used a plastic ‘bottleneck’ that slid across the strings, and picked the strings. At times, I thought I was listening to Leo Kottke. The festival programming committee would be well advised to utilize more acoustic players. Afterall, the Blues didn’t begin its journey in electrified Chicago. Harris life story offers the proof, starting his own journey in New Orleans as a street singer.

Clarksville, Mississippi native, Castro Coleman followed Harris with an entirely different vibe. Known as Mr. Sipp, Coleman brought his smooth voice and guitar, accompanied by a crackerjack band. Coleman has a decided preference for foot-stomping Blues with lots of swing. He certainly isn’t the only performer who swims in those waters, but there is something about Mr. Sipp that is mesmerizing. He had the crowd eating of his hands, as he moved from one side of the stage to the other, sporting an infectious grin and exhibiting some guitar histrionics. Somewhat surprisingly, his songs often have religious connotations, but those didn’t impede the party. At one point, Mr. Sipp serenaded a lady in the audience—oddly he held her hand while singing but spent his time singing to the crowd rather than looking at the woman. After he finished, he took a walk through the park; at one point standing on the cement wall behind the soundboard. The audience was enraptured.

When he returned to the stage, he quickly finished his set. But before doing so, he stripped off his suit coat. Apparently, he worked up a pretty good sweat, as did many in the audience.

For the evening’s final performance, the programming committee had put together the first of three centennial tributes—this one honoring Jimmy Rogers, the blues guitarist who in the Forties and early Fifties shaped the sound that would mark Muddy Waters playing until his death in 1983. Rogers can also be heard accompanying harmonica ace Little Walter and vocalist Howlin’ Wolf. He also left behind several notable recordings of his own.

Before the music began, DCase Commissioner Clinée Hedspeth read a proclamation from Chicago Mayor Brandon Johnson honoring Rogers. At least two dozen of Rogers’ descendants were on stage as the proclamation was read.

As for the music—it was the classic sound of Muddy Waters that has influenced and inspired so many musicians over the years. No nonsense; no unnecessary flourishes. Just the solid electric blues that has been preserved on the dozens of Chess recordings that Waters and company created over the years.

Rogers’ son, Jimmy D. Lane took charge as the guitar player and orchestrator. With him were Rogers’ grandson, Dr. Sebastian Lane also on guitar, Bob Margolin, who played guitar with Waters beginning in 1973, and Kim Wilson on Blues harp. Adding the necessary bottom and rhythm were two Chicago stalwarts, Felton Crews on bass and Kenny “Beedy Eyes” Smith on drums.

Overall, tonight proved to be a great and varied evening of Blues, honoring the music’s journey from Africa to Mississippi to Chicago, and places far and wide.

[Click on an Image to Enlarge It. The Images Are Not Necessarily in Exact Chronological Order]