Loss and Lunacy at Legends

This is a post that I hate to write.

A good friend of mine, Chris Neal (saxophone for the Brother John band), had his horn ripped off at Buddy Guy's Legends a few days ago.

Chris has been in John's band for years, and that band has been the house band at Legends for years, playing every other Monday night. I've written about the Blue Monday Jams on these pages on many occasions, so those of you who are familiar with me, you know how much I like going to Buddy's on a Monday. The characters that you encounter time and time again are like none you'd ever meet in "real life".

Apparently, Chris' tenor sax (Yamaha Custom EX- it's a nice instrument) was lifted from the green room at the club (on the second floor and away from public access, by the way), which makes this tale of woe all the worse. For those of you who are not in a band or have never seen an episode of Oprah, the green room is reserved for the talent. It's a place where you can hang and chill, be away from the audience, and not have to be "on".

The break room, if you will.

And, of course, it's the place where you can keep your personal stuff, allegedly secure and out of harms way.

So basically, someone in the club went through the VIP area, up the stairs to the green room, took the horn, came back down the stairs, and probably walked through the club with said horn in tow.

This is a travesty. Legend's has a reputation as a leading music venue in Chicago, the so called "Home of the Blues". The club's owner is also reputable, famous, remarkable, and one of the world's foremost ambassadors of the only true American music.

Buddy Guy is Chicago Blues. Something like this should not be happening in his club.

So who's to blame? Was it a patron of the club or a Legends employee that took it, I wonder? It was one or the other, that's for sure.

Unless, of course, it was another musician. Now there's a thought.

And if it was another musician (not an unusual possibility, to be sure,) it's not like he/she will be able to bring it out on a gig. Ever.

Which could only mean...

As Steely Dan once sang, "So I'll pawn my crown, for a ride uptown..."

Hopefully Buddy and Legends will take care of Chris as best as they can.

So it goes...

Another Blue Monday

Another Monday night at Buddy Guy's Legends.

The Blue Monday Jam session, don't you know. And as usual, there was a slew of characters that showed up. Holly "Thee" Maxwell was giving lessons on how she don't need no instant breakfast, done up with a huge blonde wig, a bright red (and big) bra that doubled as a shirt (?), black capri's, and a blue doo-rag.

Paul "Harmonica" Hanover was there.

Buddy himself was there, holding court at the bar with all sorts of well-wishers, autograph seekers, and hangers-on. He had said that he had just flown in from Denver from a gig he had the night before.

His arms must have been very tired. Hopefully his guitar was not destroyed by the airline.

As usual, he did not take the stage at any point in the night.

Tommy McCracken, the black Elvis, was a no-show. It's been a while since I've seen Tommy and his unforgettable vocal stylings (and unprecedented dance moves) on "Have You Ever Seen a One-Eyed Woman Cry?" I know that he's been out and about doing some things, most recently at the Slippery Noodle in Indianapolis (thanks to fellow drummer Robert Pasenko for the news- I'm guessing you did those gigs with him.) I'd like to see him again sooner rather than later. He makes the night interesting, to say the least.

Not too many surprises last night, as you have surely figured out by now.

What was a surprise though, was that the dashingly handsome and exuberant drummer known as Yours Truly (it's me, it's me!) took the stage at the end of the night as the front-man and vocalist.

That's right: I sang. Sure, I had played drums earlier in the evening with a less than memorable quintet (maybe it was a quartet, who knows at this point, a hazy day later.) I enjoyed it and all, but it didn't really scratch the itch. So I decided to ask Brother John Kattke, our gracious host, if I could sing one to finish the night. It was, after all, about 130am, and letting me get up there to howl wasn't going to cost anyone their job (although you would think that that was a possibility 'cuz you usually shouldn't let the drummer sing unless it's Levon Helm or Karen Carpenter.)

I've always wanted to be the front guy, because I like to ham it up (just in case you hadn't noticed.) I also really enjoy singing, and know the words to more tunes than, seemingly, most people.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: You gotta learn songs.

I'm not a good singer, by any means. But I am a good performer, I bring the right amount of attitude, and I have no fear of the audience. Plus, it was 130am, so...

You can fill in the blanks.

I actually did a better than respectable job. The tune I chose was B.B. King's version of "Let the Good Times Roll". It's a standard up-tempo swing-shuffle with a few breaks in the last verse, for those of you that have never had an audience with the King. Nothing over the top or difficult to be sure.

I also don't sound at all like B.B. King, to be sure.

But it was rockin'. My man Bret Dale was on the lead guitar, Doug Corcoran was on keys, and Dave Russell was the drummer. As for the bass player and the second guitar man, I have no idea who they were. That's the beauty of the Monday Jam at Legends. You just don't know who you'll be teamed up with (like I said, the group I was with earlier in the night kinda stunk.) But these guys were solid and paid attention to all my cues and antics and everything they were supposed to be doing.

It was fun. It was ridiculous. It was exhilarating.

Another reminder of the joys of being a musician.

So it goes...

Another Blue Monday Jam Session

The weekly blues jam at Buddy Guy's Legends was happenin' last night. Seems like all the characters came out to prowl the city at night.

I had the pleasure of playing with the house band, Brother John Kattke, subbing for his regular guy, Marty "Boom Boom" Binder. The Legendary Paul Stref was on the gig, playing bass (awesome), and the horn section was there, sans Marqueal Jordan (and the cool Otis Redding stuff he pulls out- too bad).

A great lineup, for sure.

I've played with John's group quite a bit over the last dozen-or-so years, but I'm not his regular guy, by any means. So whenever I do this gig, I'm never on auto-pilot. I'm always thinking about the tunes, remembering different changes and "hits", watching for cues, etc; the usual stuff you gotta do when you're a sub.

John's got extensive repertoire, so there really is no way to prepare for one of his gigs. I've got about 9 CD's of the various tunes he does, and that's still not the complete Kattke collection. So I listen to a few, and hope that those are some of the tunes that he picks. Luckily, they're all GOOD tunes, and I pretty much (key words being "pretty much") know them all more or less.

Sometimes more, sometimes less.

So we did our set, about an hour long. Some of my personal faves of the set were "Blackjack", by Ray Charles, and "I Got Loaded", the Los Lobos arrangement. We ended our part of the show with "Hillbillies From Outer Space," from the Vaughan Brothers. It's a very hip Texas shuffle (which is a little lazier than a Chicago shuffle) that I played brushes on, not a typical way to end a set. John even tossed me a solo to finish off the set. Totally cool, and the band sounded great.

Bring on the jammers.

Actually, the talent level was quite high. There were a handful of guitar guys that I had never seen, but they were more than serviceable (hey,at least they're trying). Otherwise, the quality was high. Some good bass players came through as well, including Melvin Smith, bass player for Koko Taylor's Blues Machine. I hadn't seen him in a while.

Another old friend, Homie (honestly that's his name), was there too, hanging with Sammy Fender. He used to be a drummer back in the day, as they say (whatever day that was, anyways), working for Buddy way back as far as the Vanguard days.

Gave it up to make a living.

Smart guy, I suppose. He was certainly in fine form, though, holding court for a while at the bar, and then in the VIP section, which is stage left, telling stories I can't repeat and sipping on his seemingly never empty glass of red wine.

Homie's cool.

Tommy McKracken was there, the black Elvis. I've written about Tommy before, as some readers (hopefully) may recall. He's a riot. Far and away, he's the hardest working guy you could ever hope to see on a Monday night. Each time I see him, he gives it his all. That's quite an accomplishment, considering that he does the same. routine. every. single. time.

His set starts with big hits on the "C", then the "F" then "B flat" (or whatever chords he calls), and then into a swing shuffle, "Have You Ever Seen a One-Eyed Woman Cry." He's got his hips gyrating, the microphone swinging, the mic stand bouncing, and the people are wrapped around his finger. He's dancing and clapping and snapping, passing solos around, singing a verse or two, then doing it some more. You'd never believe that this guy could work a crowd so well if you haven't seen him up close and personally.

Then it's his slow blues, "Little Blue Bird." A classic B.B. King tune.

The end of the song always is a sort of preaching section, giving props to waking up in the morning ("a wonderful thing happened to me this morning; I woke up"), and crying the blues about the woman that can't be satisfied and left him. After each little statement that he makes, he cues the band to hit a chord, quick and short.

He makes a lot of little statements.

He gets off the stage with the same swagger he got on with.

The players got switched around after Tommy's set, and it was time for Holly B. Maxwell to do her thing. She's the self proclaimed "new blonde bombshell," and she certainly is. Holly is a large woman, over 6 feet. She always wears bright and stylish outfits, tight around her hips and thighs which are quite large and round (baby got back). And she's got the BLONDE wig.

It's screaming blonde.

It totally completes her persona.

Holly always starts with a medium tempo shuffle, singing about how, "I don't need no instant breakfast, 'cuz I'm hongry..." (Notice: hongry, not hungry.) That's how she sounds, in that loud, throaty, growling blues mama voice that you'd expect from a woman of her, uh, stature.

HONGRY.

And her schtick is as you would expect from a blues mama. She oozes sexuality, whether it's with the band on the stand or the guy sitting in the front row with his wife and mother-in-law. Lot's of hip shakin' and rubbing and bumping and grinding. Blues cabaret, basically.

Just like that, seemingly, the clock reached 1:00. Show's over. Time to go.

Another successful Monday.

So it goes...

Blue Monday Jam Session

Last night was the Monday night blues jam at Buddy Guy's Legends. It's been going on for years and years.

So have I.

If you're not familiar with the concept of what a blues jam is, then here goes:

First of all, there is a house band that runs the whole show. The house band plays a set of their own, maybe an hour or so, to start off the night. After that, it's an open stage. The musicians in the club sign up on a list to play. The leader for the house band then matches various players with each other, forming a group of, usually, 2 guitars, bass, drums, keys, and harmonica (if there are any harmonica players, that is. they're a dying breed, they are). This group then plays a set, maybe 3 or 4 tunes. It's unrehearsed, and much of the time, the musicians have not ever played with each other. After the set is finished, the house band leader changes the stage with different players and another short set is performed. This goes on and on til closing time. Usually, you'll see 3 or 4 different sets after the house band plays.

Last night, John Kattke, aka Brother John, was host. He's usually got a sextet with 3 horns (2 saxes and a trumpet) and the undeniable rhythm section of Paul Streff on bass and Marty "Boom Boom" Binder on drums. Marqueal Jordan doubles on saxophone and vocals, and trumpeter Doug Corcoran doubles on keys, as does John himself.

These guys are bad to the bone, to say the least. Whether it's a screaming Albert Collins shuffle, a funky B.B. King cut (they did "So Excited" off the "Completely Well" album- nobody does that tune, are you kidding?), or a smooth Otis Redding selection, these guys are one of the best blues/r&b acts in town.

What really makes the Monday's special, though, are the unexpected things. Sometimes you get to see some real magic. There's always the chance that someone big will show up. I've played with guys like Buddy Guy, himself, James Cotton, Eddy Clearwater, Lil Ed, and even Zakk Wylde (from Ozzy Ozbourne's band). You never know who's gonna show.

Sometimes, though, it just stinks. There can be a bunch of what I like to call "no-playin'-mutha-hoo-ha's". It's not their fault. Sometimes there are guys ( girls too) that just can't play. Their shuffles don't shuffle, their slow blues are too fast, and their funk is generally un-funky. In short, they're not pro's. They are not required to be. That's the beauty of the jam. God bless 'em for trying.

God bless 6 dollar pitchers of Goose Island for those audibly trying times, too.

Most often, it's just plain wacky. This is what really makes it special (or at least, ahem, unique, depending on your opinion).

So many of these people are real characters. You couldn't make them up. Last night, Holly "Thee" Maxwell showed up. She's the self-proclaimed "new black blonde bombshell"; kind of like a cross betweenTina Turner and Tina Turner in drag. Seriously. She's about 6 feet tall, very, uh, healthy in the rear, and she wears the blondest wig you've ever seen on a dark woman. Her ensemble is completed with a cowboy hat and fringed/sparkly jacket.

Huh?

She does a great show. The ultimate, sexy-yet-not-but-you-never-know, blues mama.

Tommy McCracken often shows. He's the black Elvis, with a mix of James Brown, complete with the screams and the yelps and the dancing and the hip shaking and the gyrating and the twirling and splits with the microphone stand, and even the pompadour.

Weird? Nah.

He's pure energy, always moving, working the crowd, working the band, and working up a sweat which usually ends up on most of the guys on stage.

Nasty? Maybe.

A little.

But Tommy always does a great show. He does the same 2 or 3 songs always. For years and years. At this point, most of us that show up know Tommy's bit: the one-eyed woman crying, the sweet little angel, the cues and hits that he gives over and over and over till you can't stand to hit his cues any more. It's always high energy, and Tommy always brings his A-game, whether there's 15 or 150 people in the place.

And he is one of the most entertaining guys you'll ever see.

So many characters.

So many stories.

So many more Mondays to come.

So it goes...