Elvin, Mavis, Lonnie, and...Westmont?

Well, the never-ending tour of the Lonnie Brooks Blues Band took us to Lake Tahoe, NV and fabulous Westmont, IL this past weekend.

Consecutive days, no less.

Whew.

You know, the joys of early-morning flights, with connections, originating out of O'hare.

Actually, the travel itself went surprisingly swimmingly (nice little summer motif, eh?.) All, and when I say "all" I mean all, of the flights departed and arrived on time. Four legs round trip. And not only is O'hare notorious for always having delays, but the Denver airport has the same bad rap as well.

Optimism was low, to say the least.

But all was well. We left Chicago at 6 am and arrived at our digs in Tahoe (a 70 mile drive, on winding mountain roads from Reno to Tahoe, for those of you who were wondering) around 1pm.

As an aside, we were picked up at the airport in a stretch Lincoln SUV, complete with a full bar, t.v., stereo, and snacks (can't forget about the snacks.) The rock and roll fantasy for sure. But hey, we were working one of the casino resorts out there. It's not like they're going broke.

Might as well go for broke.

For us especially.

(Don't you know whom we is?)

Anyways, back to the gig (you don't even want to know about the actual accommodations. Hoo boy. Ahem.) The show, billed as Blues on the Lake, was in an outdoor amphitheater set up in one of the parking lots. It held 7500, and the mountains circled the area (we were in a valley, after all.) All the stops were pulled out: big stage, big sound, big lights, quality (are you kidding me?) back line, and a competent (are you really kidding me?) crew.

Did I mention that casinos don't go broke?

As for the show, it was a chart topper. There were 3 acts.

First was Elvin Bishop, one of the great guitar slingers. I gotta say, he looked very rough around the edges. At the same time, he looked exactly like you'd think, with his scraggly and curly salt and pepper hair and the goofy overalls. Forty-five years in the biz will do that to a man I guess. But he played his ass off, despite not playing the biggest hit of his career (the cheezy, yet extremely lucrative, Grammy winning, used in a Harold and Kumar movie, Fooled Around and Fell in Love.) He played his set loud and proud, his band right there with him, showing the fire he still has since his early days as a member of the Butterfield Blues Band.

Next up was Mavis Staples. She's been in the game for almost 60 years. You wouldn't know it from looking at her, though, despite the fact that it was her 70th birthday that night. She was very elegant looking in her sequined top and dark slacks, ever the professional with the clothes to match.

Note to young players out there: Dress for the damn gig, would you?

She had a four piece band with her (not the regular guys I'm used to seeing. Hmm.) as well as a trio of backup singers, one of which was her sister. If you were looking for a blues show from her, you would have been sadly disappointed.

You would also be pegged as obviously never seeing Ms. Mavis perform before. She's got too rich of a catalog to stick to just blues.

Sure, there was a little blues, but she was very diverse in her set, pulling out a lot of tunes from her most recent album Hope at the Hideout (ANTI-), including Alice Wine's Keep Your Eyes on the Prize, Stephen Stills' For What It's Worth, and the ever popular I'll Take You There.

She even did The Band's The Weight.

Mavis was supposed to do 50 minutes and ended up doing 90. So much for keeping the schedule the promoters were so desperately trying to adhere to. And with our hotel pick-up being 3am to go back to the Reno airport...

Whatever.

Our turn.

The set was to be a little unusual tonight. Before bringing Lonnie up, we had Jimmy Johnson as a special guest. Jimmy is one of the elder statesman; 8o I've been told. He's got a lot of taste and smoothness in his guitar playing. Not a lot of notes, and certainly not a lot of flash. He just plays the blues. But he's very compelling. He sings as well as he plays, and doesn't add a lot of unnecessary filler to his tunes. Very no-nonsense. Jimmy was supposed to only do 15 minutes. Two tunes, really.

He did half an hour.

After Jimmy, we brought up Eddy "The Chief" Clearwater, sans headdress. Like Jimmy, he was supposed to do just a couple of tunes in 15 minutes. He ended up doing 4 in 30 minutes.

Whose idea was it to have those guys play such short sets, anyways. I mean, 15 minutes? C'mon.

So now it's time to bring Lonnie up. By this point, it's about 1030, our scheduled ending time. Mavis ran way over, Jimmy and Eddy ran over, and we've been travelling and moving non-stop since 3am (really 1am when you take into account that we had to adjust to Pacific Time.)

We should be done, but we're just getting fired up.

For those of you that have seen Lonnie over the years, then you know as well as I do that Lonnie is not gonna just come up for 30 minutes and do his thing and leave. It's not in his make-up.

We started the set with Voodoo Daddy, one of the signature classics, and an unusual choice for the first song of the set. Brooks wanted to do it up, though, having to follow Mavis like that.

He certainly didn't disappoint.
Eyeballin', You Know What My Body Needs, all the hits. His voice was strong, and his guitar chops were equally sharp. Lonnie's style is very unique, and when he's on, there's nobody better.

So as you'd expect, we did about an hour and then brought Eddy and Jimmy back up to finish the night.

Sweet Home Chicago.

Ugh. I know that the crowds love that song and all, and that will probably always be the case, and we'll happily oblige, but I, for one, never need to play it again.

At least I get to do it with Brooks, though. He does it better than anyone.

By the time we finish doing the glad-handing and the photos and all that stuff, it's about 1230 when we're ready to make the quick walk back to the hotel. Our pick-up is in just a few hours, we have to do all of the travelling we just did, only in reverse, and then be ready for our show the next night in Westmont, IL.

Muddy Waters' hometown for the last 15 years or so of his life.

So the fellas and I did what any self-respecting travelling circus would do when there's only 2 hours to go and going to bed is a silly notion at this point.

Remember, we were in a casino.

So it goes...

The Dreaded Fly-Gig

This weekend, the never ending tour of the Lonnie Brooks Blues Band will take me to fabulous Lake Tahoe, NV.

We'll fly in, do the show, and then leave the next morning to head back for a gig here in town.

On paper (or your digital screen), it sounds kind of exotic. Sexy even.

On one level, it is. After all, I'll be in Tahoe, albeit for less than 24 hours. And I'll be sharing the stage with some great musicians: Eddy "the Chief" Clearwater, Jimmy "the Bar Room Preacher" Johnson, Elvin "Fooled Around and Fell in Love" Bishop, and Mavis "Respect Yourself" Staples. The gig is in an outdoor amphitheater, at a large casino (poker anyone?), and we're getting cash.

It'll be so tempting to put it all on "Red."

I'm sure there's a pool AND a hot tub. Hot diggity-dog.

On another level, though, it will hardly be the "Days of Wine and Roses."

Flying is rough enough as it is these days, with the taking off of the shoes, the shaving cream and toothpaste in the zipper bag (can't say Ziploc due to copyright infringements which certainly gives me a strong, false sense of security), and the general dour attitude of airline/airport workers.

After all, in this post-9/11 country, you simply look guilty of something.

I've written before about the effect that life's "minor indignities" has on me.

I can't stand them.

Especially in airports, and especially when they come from people who clearly are low scorer's on the intelligence scale (how many airport workers are there, anyways, who have no H.S. diploma in concert with extensive criminal backgrounds?)

Almost inevitably, there will be issues with the guitars and bringing them on board into the cabin. You see, guitars generally fit in the overhead compartments, which are quite roomy (if the other passengers are able to find their modicum of good manners and don't just throw their crap up there all willy-nilly and spread out with no consideration for anyone else.) This is a fact. I've been doing this long enough to know how it is.

I don't even play guitar.

However, the flight attendants (waitresses) usually express disbelief when we board the plane, guitars in hand. More times than not, they're "sure" that the instruments won't fit and they'll need to be checked. As if they've never seen someone bring a guitar on board.

More times than not, they're dead wrong.

Sometimes, though, they're (gasp) right. The gear won't fit. This is especially true with small prop/commuter planes. So you're forced to check the instruments.

That is where fear is struck. You are at their mercy, knowing well in advance that they just.

Don't.

Give.

A.

Damn.

About you or your stuff. Why should they? You paid your fare in advance, and good luck getting compensation should something happen to your $5000 Les Paul. Nobody within the airline, from the lowest baggage handler to the highest levels of upper management, will be inclined to take responsibility for anything. They will run you around in circles, with the hope being that you'll just give up one day due to lack of time or legal resources or both.

There is a musician from Nova Scotia, Canada, by the name of Dave Carroll, who experienced this familiar tale of woe. United Airlines (that's who I'll be flying on Saturday- hooray!) broke his guitar.

They actually compensated him for his repairs, but only after he made a video lambasting the company and posted it on You Tube.

It's called, appropriately, "United Breaks Guitars."

The video, as many of you may know at this point, went viral (that means it's a smash hit, no pun intended). United had no choice but to bow to the PR goddess and save face and fix the gear. How generous of them.

Only took a year.

Can't wait to go to Tahoe.

So it goes...