Review: Buddy Guy begins Legends dates
Review: Buddy Guy begins Legends dates
January 9, 2010
By Bob Gendron
The Chicago Tribune
A continuous snowfall wasn't about to stop Buddy Guy from venturing outside while playing his guitar Thursday at his namesake Legends club. Performing the opening night of a nearly sold-out 16-date stand, the Chicago blues icon exited the stage on two occasions to stroll the block, even being careful to wipe his feet on a mat when he re-entered through the kitchen door.
Such antics are as traditional as Guy's annual January residency that, this year, assumes added importance in that it's the last to occur at the venue's original location. Legends will soon relocate one block north. The significance wasn't lost on the 73-year-old Louisiana native, who dressed for the occasion in a sharp, magenta-colored suit. And while Guy mentioned that gout recently slowed his pace, the musician's effortless command of the guitar and teasing falsetto remain in tact. As does his connection with fans. Guy was already seated near the front door signing merchandise and posing for pictures before his four-piece band closed out the 95-minute set.
Alternating among soulful ballads ("Skin Deep"), rock covers (Cream's "Strange Brew"), funk-based originals ("Best Damn Fool") and traditional blues fare ("Hoochie Coochie Man"), Guy bypassed the hokey routines that often bog down his festival appearances. Instead of following a script, Guy challenged himself by taking chances during solos and pushing his vocal range.
Balling his hands into fists that resembled those of a boxer, the singer delivered a delicate rendition of Otis Redding's "I've Got Dreams to Remember" that was as tender as "Drowning on Dry Land" was raucous. Dynamic contrasts helped maintain a tonal balance. They also allowed the rubber-faced Guy ample opportunity to switch personas. Whether playing the role of a boastful playboy, backdoor man or wounded lover, he tailored his guitar's tuning and volume to fit each song's narrative. But nothing surpassed his noisiest ventures.
Jerking his right hand away from the strings in an abrupt manner that suggested he'd just been burned by a fire, Guy unleashed torrents of piercing notes that made a connection with postwar blues, experimental rock and free jazz. The resulting sounds -- like that of sleet hitting a metal awning -- mirrored the freezing weather outside and announced that the blues vocabulary still has room to expand.
