It's already 10 PM, the villa gates had been opened since 9:30 PM; the opening act, hired just a few days ago by B.B. King, has just finished their performance... not bad, but rather underwhelming compared to what people expected.
The air smells of popcorn and sandwiches, the locals make the usual useless conversations about food and "femmene."

It seems impossible, yet the Blues Boy, now in his eighties, manages to bring the same exceptional atmosphere even to places like these and among these people. That's the miracle.
The band is exceptional... we have trumpets, sax, keyboard, bass, drums, and even another guitar for support... oh yes, because the King is starting to feel the years, and he no longer sings while playing simultaneously, so he either plays guitar solos or sings.

He performs two pieces standing up, and then he sits on a chair with his Lucille in his arms. The usual dialogues with the audience begin, with excellent Blues backgrounds playing. He jokes about his "terrible English" (to me it's excellent since I understood almost everything :D), and about his age. He always finds the chance to thank women, and before launching into a piece, he states that "there are no ugly women, the creator didn’t make any."

The more the concert progresses, the more B.B. King seems to be involved; when singing with his wonderful voice, he sometimes claps his hands or holds them to his chest in emotion. During the solos, he even pauses for 10 seconds on the last note, driving the audience wild.

I have never been a die-hard fan of the King, so I don't recognize all the pieces he plays (or often improvises), yet the entire audience ignites when "The Thrill Is Gone" and "Why I Sing The Blues" start.

The emotion is continuously building, at some point, it really feels like being in an American club in the 50's, sitting at a table with a glass of whiskey in front of you.

When you feel that everything is about to end, something wonderful happens. The barriers set by security to separate the higher-priced sections closer to the stage are torn down, and the entire audience rises to their feet in front of B.B. King to applaud him.
And this is the miracle of the Blues: there are no more rich or poor, bourgeois or proletarians... there's just the people.

And B.B. King really has traveled the world. The boy who worked in cotton fields, would he have ever thought of playing all over the world even at 80?
Perhaps not.
He knows now that this will be his last European tour, because age is starting to take its toll, and 15 hours of flight are too much even for him.

After endless thanks to the city (also because at the beginning of the show the mayor had handed over the keys to the city as a sign of respect), B.B. King leaves in all humility, just as he had arrived.

What can be said... 28 euros to see HIM play at 80 for a full 2 hours... fantastic.
Surely the highest rating for a concert that, with its sounds and colors, will remain in the hearts of many.

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