Buddy Guy/John Campbell/Sonny Landreth
Paul Heroy
Month', and what a culmination it was, with a major blues bash by Sonny
Landreth, John Campbell, and Buddy Guy in the LSU Assembly Center closing it
out in screaming, howling, hot-blooded fashion.
First on the bill was Landreth. He plays a blend of Cajun and blues, and sings
in a style that's as close to 'country' as anything else. His set was about 40
minutes, and it didn't do much more than get a few toes tapping. It was upbeat
but laid back, the kind of music you'd want to hear while chowing down in your
backyard to some barbecue and getting too stuffed to move. I was concerned
before the show that Landreth might play after Campbell (meaning less time for
JC), and I was relieved to see this didn't happen. He's ok, but nothing to get
your ying in a yang about.
John Campbell, on the other hand, will reach out and GRAB your yingyang and
make you stand up, jump and shake, then deposit you gasping in your seat. He
is *good*. I'd guesstimate that at least 80% of the folks in attendance had
never heard of JC, much less heard his music, and he had the crowd going nuts.
I set next to a couple of guys who were a few years younger (college age), and
told them between sets what a treat Campbell would be. They looked slightly
skeptical when I said that they would be blown away, and that JC would do a
version of "When the Levee Breaks" that would take the song back to its blues
roots and leave Led Zep in the dust. Halfway through his set, I just grinned
when they gasped "Is he always this good?! Are his albums this good?!".
Switching between his electrified acoustic guitar and a National steel guitar
(also apparently electrified), Campbell displayed complete command of the
acoustic blues guitar styles, variously picking, slapping, plucking, and using
a slide. He laid down guitar that boogied and burned, like a cross between
John Lee Hooker and Elmore James, while his deep, commanding voice growled out
his lyrics from the darker side of life. "Devil's in my closet... can't trust
my woman no more", he growls; "Ain't afraid of midnight... I've danced in that
graveyard before... the reaper better be packin' heat when he comes for me",
he roars in "Ain't Afraid of Midnight". Later in the set he paused for a mini
blues guitar sermon, giving demonstrations of 'piano', 'banjo' and 'Mississi-
ppi delta' style, then combining them all in a howling, burning display of
guitar virtuousity. He's *evil* and has stage presence to go with it; his long
hair tied behind his head, gaunt frame, leather jacket, black jeans and boots;
his scarred face and missing right eye; his obvious appreciation and mastery
of past blues masters combine with a dynamic sound that is accessible to rock
'n roll fans; all are factors that add up to The Real Thing. Robert Cray takes
blues into the modern age in one way, but Campbell does it too, in his own
style from a less urban blues heritage than Cray. The crowd was going bonker
and eating it up. Campbell is NOT to be missed if he comes to your area! Oh -
his bandmates were damn good too, especially the drummer, a guy from Portland,
Oregon whose name I didn't catch.
Finally, the star of the evening came on; Buddy Guy walked out on stage clad
in a bright red suit and gleaming white sneakers. I have to admit I was think-
ing to myself that not too damn many people would have wanted to follow John
Campbell after his fantastic set. But this was Buddy Guy, the subject of the
now cliched quote from Eric Clapton, "he's by far the best guitar player alive
today". Guy hit the stage and immediately tore into a blistering version of
Stevie Ray Vaughan's "Mary Had a Little Lamb". He screamed on his guitar, and
into the microphone he howled, whispered, and nearly squealed, his voice
swooping from a barely audible to a full throated roar to a silky falsetto.
Damn! I hadn't realized just what a terrific blues *singer* Guy is! This was
more urban, "Chicago" blues, compared to Campbell, and Guy was cutting loose
much more than on his studio albums, as I'd heard he would do. Only... there
was one problem that kept it from clicking completely: the crowd. Buddy has
so much interaction with the crowd, urging us to sing verses and otherwise
really get *into* the performance, that his show needs a good crowd to be at
its best. This was mostly a young crowd, raised on rock 'n roll and unfamiliar
with blues songs. Most of us gave it a valiant attempt, but we fell kinda flat
and left Guy searching for "some shit we know". He seemed to have a huge bag
of trick in his repertoire, and he searched through it for something that
would click and boost his show up into that zone where you *know* that magic
is happening, but it just never made it. The show was damn good, and Guy did
his impressions of Hendrix, Clapton, Page, Muddy Waters, and B.B. King, but
the karma never set in. Halfway through the show the crowd rushed to the stage
to stand and be in position to catch a guitar pick; the young guitarist con-
tingent was definitely in attendance. (I have to admit that I was annoyed
mostly because they blocked my view of the stunning blonde in the skin-tight
white dress, gyrating in the 3rd row.... ;-) Buddy didn't disappoint - he
waded into the crowd, fingers flying over his guitar as he left the stage
and the sound of his guitar screaming behind him. I was in the section just
above the floor - would he come up the steps so I could get a close up view?
The anticipation was killing me. He worked his way to the back of the floor,
then disappeared in the entrance ramp. Then suddenly the gaggle of neon-green
t-shirts surrounding him moved toward the stairs... yes!!! He's coming up!
Around me, necks craned and eyes lit with enthusiasm as he climbed the stairs
two sections from our seats, then crossed over and descended - but still one
section over. Ah hell, probably wouldn't have been able to see much with all
the neon-greenies around, anyway ;-) He returned to the stage and commenced
flinging guitar picks like candy, even teasingly offering his bow after a
bowed solo, sliding it away as the greedy hands of the guitar weenies grabbed
for it. Don't get me wrong - the show was great, Guy was full of guitar
wizardry (played it with his teeth a couple of times, zinged it across his
chest, bowed it, etc. - I was 6 when Hendrix died and this was probably as
close as you can get to that these days), it just didn't quite reach that
ultimate level. That's ok though - a little extra incentive to get out and
see him next time he's anywhwere nearby :-)
So who did I enjoy most, between John Campbell and Buddy Guy? Despite Guy's
reputation for live shows, I have to go with Campbell by a slim margin, based
on the fact that he had me and the rest of the crowd on our feet more often.
But I'd go see either solo in a second. $15 for both??? 3 hours of blistering
blues??? (For a total of 4 hours, with Landreth.) YOWZUH!!!
Still buzzing,
Paul