No sane band wants to plan Chicago as a tour stop during the frigid month of January, so as we linger through dark, snowy days, we can't even look forward to hot, steamy nights in a club with a hot national touring act. Manic depression, all through the streets. Acknowledging this, Buddy Guy has made a tradition of playing an extended run of shows at his club, Buddy Guy's Legends, every January. Wait in line at Ticketmaster, throw down $25 after service charges, and earn an opportunity to drink Budweiser longnecks and listen to the sounds of a blues guitar legend.
Unfortunately, on Thursday, Jan. 8, the legend sounded a bit past his prime.
This year, I made my first venture to this winter music tradition. Wild Turkey on the rocks in hand (you need to drink bourbon when listening to the blues, you know), I endured an hour-long set by the Larry McCray band, not bad blues, but nothing electric. The anticipation of Buddy's melodic, gut-wrenching genius was nearly unbearable (as was the pain of having to stand around during the 35 minute set change). But finally Buddy strolled up on stage, donning a black Reebok headband and a pair of bright purple overalls. A kind of new age honky tonk cowboy. After a rousing rendition of "Mojo Rising," the debacle began.
Buddy has his tricks. Walking into the audience. Throwing a few "What the fuck are you doing?" remarks to the crowd between songs. The trademark orgasmic smile and a drum stick to the guitar. Signs of a rock star, and if he played a full two-hour, soulful, focused set, then all this would be warranted. But starting and stopping nearly 10 songs, such as "Hoochie Coochie Man," "Johnny B. Goode," and several new songs off of his upcoming album, the show turned into more of a disjointed practice session than a $25 ticket affair. When he played, such as on an epic version of "It Feels Like Rain" off of the 1993 Grammy-winning album with the same name, the music was magical. But without an encore (a two minute uninspired version of "Sweet Home Chicago") and the disappointing song segments, the show turned into one great rip-off. His rhythm guitarist, while awesome himself, played "Voodoo Chile" and "Red House" while Buddy just stood in the corner. He logged almost as many minutes in the spotlight as Buddy did. We paid to watch Buddy jam, not to see him stand in the corner. Throw in a crowd applauding these insincere antics (and the contingent yelling at the top of their lungs about stock trading), and, well, try to unload your tickets (if you've already bought them) to someone who does not read this review.
-Jason Koransky
Centerstage Will Feed You
