Blues festival season began late this year. Instead of spending my birthday weekend at Monterey I focused on Baseball. The A's and the Pirates made me happy while the Giants did not. I survived the extra two weeks without a Blues festival. On Saturday morning I eagerly awoke and searched for the appropriate T-shirt. I decided on the classic Monterey Blues festival shirt instead of the Ron Thompson shirt. I got dressed and was ready to go. Unfortunately (and fortunately) I don't travel alone these days. Husband and son took another hour. We finally arrived in downtown Hayward shortly after 1:00 PM. I took a reasonable view, realizing that Ron Thompson and Sista Monica would not be on yet. They were a guaranteed show worth the $25. Anything else was just gravy.
I left my sleeping son in the car with his dad while I went in to the show. I had my gravy first, along with some ribs and an Italian ice.Then I enjoyed my first helping of "gravy" with Big Cat Tolfree and the Hypnotics. Despite the fact that he is from Oakland I had not heard Big Cat before. He performed Blues standards in a way that made you appreciate them. Everyday I have the Blues, Sweet Home Chicago, and Stepping Out, Stepping In were enjoyable. Listening to Blues in a beautiful setting in the sunshine was somewhat surreal. While I appreciated the environment I still recognized the necessity for my music. I do have the blues everyday, especially with the declining right to vote and the daily murder of Black men. I need the music to remind me of what we have survived and how the music has helped us to do so. That is the connection between Blues and spirituality. I made my first rounds to see my Blues festival friends, grabbed a beer, and made it back to my seat in time for Ron Thompson.
Ron Thompson has long been one of my favorites. His playing is a combination of gut-bucket blues with rock while maintaining the soul of the Blues. He is one of the few white artists who possess the blues. While listening to him during the day I was able to take some time to reflect and not just feel. I then understood that he was the reason Stevie Ray Vaughn's playing was so familiar to me. Ron did songs in tribute to John Lee Hooker and Jimmy Reed. He was subdued. It was daytime. He still did nothing to disavow me of the notion that he becomes possessed when he is playing guitar. I have no excuse for forgetting about his harmonica playing except that he is one of my favorite guitar players. We ended the set on the dance floor. Ron Thompson is guaranteed to be worth it. I do miss seeing Leonard Gil....
It is a good thing I am a critical thinker, otherwise I might have been convinced that the Bay Area Blues Society was backing Lester Chambers instead of Sonny Green. I had never seen either of them before, but I knew a tribute to Bobby Bland when I heard one. I started writing during Stormy Monday before I lost myself to memories of Bobby. Watching and listening to the stage filled with Black men in suits and horns took me back to each of the countless times I have seen Bobby Bland.
Maybe it says something about me that my first date was to a Bobby Bland concert. We had front row center seats.and Bobby spoke to me from the stage. Over the years I continued seeing Bobby Bland whenever possible. Listening to his albums got me through the roughest and loneliest times of my life. It was another level of spirituality. God gave us the Blues to get us through the rough times.
Listening to Sonny Green backed up by the BABS was an excellent tribute to Bobby Bland. Since I can't see Bobby Bland any more, I will want to see them again. He did a medley of hits, then Don't Cry No More, and I'll Take Care of You which he dedicated to the ladies. He closed with I Pity the Fool.
It took a minute to adjust to the change in schedule, spent some time on the many years I have been listening to Blues, and then Lester Chambers came on. The beat was good, but I had to use my "dog hearing" to catch the vocals. People without my ability were getting restless, and Mr. Chambers, a slightly built man in his seventies repeatedly tried to guide the sound technicians. Just when they temporarily corrected the sound for a saxophone solo on I Got the Blues, trouble struck. Mr. Chambers asked for prayer and dedicated his next song, "People Get Ready" to Trayvon Martin.. He was about a minute into the beautiful and inspiring song when a "crazy" white woman jumped up on stage, knocked him over, and started flailing her arms. Three men subdued her as Lester Chambers remained lying on the stage. Eventually she was taken off in handcuffs, and he was taken away on a stretcher. We took the time to adjust. Some expressed the idea that it was California and not Florida. We still had to yell for the woman who was attacking people to be handcuffed and arrested. We made the decision to stay, sent our prayers out to Lester Chambers, and went on with the show. Sista Monica and Ms. Sarah said it best in our vernacular "one monkey don't stop no show."
Sista Monica looked as if she not only lost a lot of weight, she had her hair in a flattering natural style. She has a way of tapping into the collective consciousness of a crowd. Witnessing her power is why she is someone else I always want to see perform. While everyone else was striving to assure us about safety issues, she picked up on the two factors which concerned most of us, the sound, and the lack of respect for the artists. She commented on what would happen if someone else decided to jump on stage and she ordered he sound man to go away and sit down. She told them she would take care of it, and then she did. She sang a spiritual and the audience joined in. She then went on to perform her particular brand of funk blues. I had another Monterey Blues Festival flashback. I had gone back to my hotel room across the street, in partial protest to funk being played instead of Blues. Back in my room I heard some soulful sounds and a funky beat. I couldn't stop responding to the music, so I went back to the Blues festival. I did not return to my room until she sang her last note, sometime around 11 PM. Now I suspend the Blues purist part of me whenever Sista Monica is playing and just enjoy the experience. She has earned her way onto my short list of performers not to be missed.
Johnny Rawls closed out the evening. While I enjoyed his performance, it was anti-climatic. I did enjoy "Let your love light shine on me" or whatever it is called. All in all, a good day. I would not survive without my Blues. Going home to the Trayvon Martin verdict made me need them even more. I only caught the last set with Bobby Rush on Sunday. Unfortunately the Bill Pickett rodeo was once again the same week-end, so I could only do one day of each.
Bobby Rush was Bobby Rush. I love his show which I characterize as what happens when Mississippi Blues is crossed with Las Vegas. Some of you may not appreciate the fact that I enjoy Bobby rush, but I ain't studdin' ya.
Adwoa
