Johnny Winter
Captured Live!

THE REVIEW

He was a living legend... unfortunately, from now on only the legend remains: the Texan guitarist Johnny Winter has passed on to another world a few days ago, and he did so right next to Italy, in Switzerland, where he was making a stop for yet another European tour of his fifty-year, tireless career.

His love for the blues, for the guitar, and for the stage kept him active until his last day of life, despite his health having been quite poor for some time: the genetic anomaly of albinism and then a life spent in the company of heroin and methadone lead to the conclusion that it was already a miracle for him to reach seventy years old. He had been forced for some time to play while seated, his fingers still ran skillfully along the fretboard, but without the intensity and strength of the past, and most notably, his ferocious voice, like a real hyena, incredible for a guy as thin as a rail and weighing just about fifty kilos or a little more, had not been able to be admired for some time.

To the honor and glory of this exceptional musician, consistent, modest, and idealistic, I bring up from the pack of his official live albums a publication from 1976 that captures him with his group during a tour in California, grappling with a half-dozen fiery numbers of generous and torrential rock blues. There are six tracks totaling about forty minutes, mostly reinterpretations of other people's songs (Bob Dylan, John Lennon, Bobby Womack, Larry Williams, and his brother-in-law Rick Derringer, an amazing guitarist himself), almost all rock'n'roll except for Dylan's piece. It's not particularly worth debating between one number and another: they are all frameworks, nice riffs, and harmonic rounds on which Winter pounces with his angry and impetuous but incredibly chiseled and rich style.

And yes, Winter's way of playing was exceedingly fluid and bustling: he was not a melodist, he did not make his instrument "sing" by tracing melodic paths. The solos were practically a magnificent concentration of licks, of standard blues and rock'n'roll phrases he had absorbed in hundreds, laid out continuously in such a free, natural, and passionate manner that he was able to maintain minutes and minutes of soloing while remaining always sharp and compelling.

The lineup playing on this album is structured as a quartet: Winter in the early years preferred to dialogue with another lead guitarist, a solution he then set aside, continuing the rest of his career in a trio guitar/bass/drums. His alter-ego on this occasion is one Floyd Radford, a prepared musician but obviously far from the charisma and class of the albino from Beaumont; nothing like the aforementioned Rick Derringer who preceded him, a guitarist of class worthy of an even better career than the more than respectable one he enjoyed once he struck out on his own.

The live track compilation in question starts with the famous "Bony Moronie" by Williams and finishes with the torrential rock'n'roll "Sweet Papa John," the only contribution from Winter's own pen, passing through the "Roll With Me" of former collaborator Derringer, through the Lennon-like "Rock'n'Roll People" published by the ex-Beatle a couple of years earlier, through the well-known "It's All Over Now" by Womack and finally through the Dylan-esque "Highway 61 Revisited," decidedly transformed with blows of slide guitar.

He was the whitest bluesman there was, but also one of the closest to the soul of the blacks, the one indispensable for making true blues, music that becomes simple only when you "enter" with your own soul before your musical abilities. Thank you so much for your music and rest in peace Johnny, we here continue to listen to you.