B.B. King
One Kind Favor

I confess that I am always afraid when I read about a new work by one of my heroes.

I am afraid that it's no longer him, that the work is blatantly lesser, and I have to love it anyway out of loyalty and bias....

In short, especially when my hero in question has crossed a certain age threshold, the fear becomes immense.

And when a live album just came out that, while faithfully reflecting the shows of the last decade, is rather tired and modest, the fear turns into terror.

Burnout is always a risk (Bennato doesn't seem that old to me...), but once past eighty, it risks becoming more of a certainty than a risk.

But instead, no: there's the beautiful surprise.

An Album, with a capital A. And a Blues album. Also with a capital B.

Yes, because B.B. hasn't always accustomed us to pure blues albums. Especially two decades ago, his music often ventured into r&b, soul, with clear gospel overtones. In short: always wonderfully black, but for us who love the blues, let's say the works of Buddy or John Lee represented more certainties....

Here we are in the realm of true blues. It's clear: B.B. King's blues, powerful voice, classic harmonic patterns, recognizable solos from Lucille, inimitable, even if perhaps slower and more wooden than before, but let's be clear: technique and speed were never the hallmarks of Our man. The real hallmark is the same as a Richards riff: recognizability, as I was saying, and absolute inimitability. A great cook, B.B., capable of crafting his dish like no other.

And it's crazy, and stupid, to ask him for novelties in 2008. Just as it is stupid, disrespectful, and insulting (not only to him but to the entire music world) to hide behind empty phrases like "it's about time he stopped."

He lives for music and lives off music. In his autobiography, at least a decade ago, he explained that he was angry because the doctor had prevented him from doing more than 250 shows a year... Those who play understand what this means. Just as in a recent interview, Our man feared the doctor would prevent intercontinental flights, thus stopping him from coming to perform in his beloved Europe. A love that's clearly reciprocated.

And when I think of Him, I think of the last time I saw him "live." A beautiful, heartfelt, genuine, and summery concert in a small village in Monferrato. A small concert of just over an hour.

But, by god, an hour of B.B. King.

A living legend.

And, my mistake, when I think of Him, I always assume a tone and air of an epitaph. He, wiser, braver, and truer than ever, releases "One Kind Favor," telling us without frills, first and foremost, that he is alive and well, and then that he still plays the Blues.

Like we could never manage, even if we tried.