Friday, May 15, 2015

Now the Blues has died – THE WORLD

Each concert of BB King, to which we may remember, was his last. Each journey through the multi-purpose halls and on the fairgrounds was his farewell tour and each new album his legacy. So he had his music, as long as he was alive, always sold us new. Now he is dead, so goes his guest appearance three years ago in Düsseldorf Mitsubishi Hall as the very last that he ever existed on German soil, with him in the music history. He played, sang and chatted while sitting next to his stand for the towels, let the guitar whine, sang “You Are My Sunshine” and “The Thrill Is Gone” and talked about the age, his blood sugar and its weakness for the beauty of all women in the hall.

He rolled his eyes as the Moor in Kintopp, and the band accompanied her BB elated by his Blue barn. As always we had wanted more of it, more tragic and more sadness and less swing soiree and SPD-morning drink. But if it was someone that, then he is not in his golden jacket, but we do.

We all white and washed with effluents of pop culture men long for us a blues, so sounds like the field recordings in the YouTube channel of the Smithsonian Institute in Washington. We want our black farm workers to distorted guitars sue their misery from the time of the Great Depression. We ourselves do not know why. Why do we believe that the Blues a forgotten singer should be sometime and somewhere in the bottom of the Mississippi truer than the blues of BB King on a Düsseldorf stage.

On his latest album “One Kind Favor” from 2008 BB King sings the first song “See That My Grave Is Kept Clean”. The dates of Blind Lemon Jefferson and from the year 1927. Two years later, the author of the original had died. Again, thirty years later followed sense seeking white men who had been too small in the war to fight, and then despised the values ​​of their fathers and of the fatherland, the old song. The hipsters went to the cemeteries of the black blues singer and swept their graves to clean themselves and to transform itself into the “White Negroes” who haunted by essays by Norman Mailer. The Blues became the sound erudite existentialists in the big cities of America against the commercial pop music.

Whether BB King has decided to give the Blues for grave maintenance for his own farewell album or whether T-Bone Burnett, his producer and one of those Hipsterveteranen, ordained him the piece: The recording was an attempt to invent new BB King, by reminding him a producer of who he once was, that he his old self again will. But nothing came of it. Also in the sultriest sound impression and middle living legends from the South as an accompaniment played BB King’s guitar so professional according as he just played guitar for more than 50 tour years and sang solid in the old carbon microphone in front of his mouth.

The Blues, as far as the message that leaves us BB King with his records and concert recordings, is for the one who plays him, other than for the one who sees everything in him and listening what he is not. In the film “The Life of Riley” 2013 BB King tells again how he spent already on the cotton field of childhood and his youth, for each picked pound got a penny, with 18 his ascension celebrated on the driver’s seat of the tractor and 21 presented to the street, with his guitar and two dollars, and hitchhiked to Memphis.

Riley King never wanted the field, also to no assembly line , rather he cheered advertising announcements on the radio, played in pubs and sat in the studio of lunatics like Ike Turner stalling. 1951 managed to be “Three O’Clock Blues” in the radio and the charts. As played and sung a tribute to music from the country, the time for all so dead held as Robert Johnson and Blind Lemon Jefferson. Modern musicians made urban Rhythm & amp; Blues.

“is to be blues musicians as if you double-black”, is said to have BB King once said, in a bitter moment. Without the Rhythm & amp; Blues without the rock’n’roll without the hipster-blues revival in America, the Euro blues the British with the Rolling Stones, which made him appear as support act, BB King could not save the Blues and keep alive can not by he played him like the wide white world wanted him. Just as Eric Clapton and Gary Moore, only true because he was black and old and from Itta Bena, Mississippi native. That was the blues, of which he said: “If one is sad, he makes a sad, and you’re happy, it makes a happier.”

Even when in 1968 the first time a concert in Germany was (it was the time when the students visited the “American Folk Blues Festival” by Horst Lippmann and Fritz Rau, to deal with the poor singers to fraternize), the German Puritans found him satisfied. He sang neither of the Mississippi floods even sandstorms, he sang of women, where he suffered because they were like the eternally dissatisfied fury in Low German fairy tale of the fisherman and his wife. That the devil were no longer in the era of world tours and global trading record companies in Louisiana at the crossroads to wheedle the blues singers souls, but sitting around in office towers, while also knew the enlightened white Blue friends. But since they were musikmoralisch rigorously in their kitchens.

Throughout his life BB King has in his paternal wisdom the black and white image from Dirge infiltrated. As a reward, he became the common property, and the whole blues flowed from the side arms in the main stream of our music. And BB King had become about the cotton servant to Blue King, everyone knew what BB does, namely “Blues Boy”, and also called as his guitar. “Lucille”, the name of his black Gibson ES-355, part of the Quizzkanon the West. While white young guns like Jack White recently increasingly desperate attempt to restore the Blues of black ancestors in torn frock coats, BB King was traveling in his own tour bus across America, sang everywhere “Oh, When The Saints Go Marching In” and rejoiced when his listeners rejoiced, his restaurants visited and home grilled with its sharp sauces.

Until he had to cancel the last performances in the fall because of his diabetes, he was was always on the move. Of the recordings of his plates, he could never live as good as he wanted it gladly. He sat on the stage with the respective recent reincarnation of his “Lucille” in the bosom and sang “I am a Bluesman”. That was his job. He’s dead now, and with it the Blues is probably dead, anyway, the Blues as a breeding ground for our live music. He will now be permanently classic. It is no longer arrive on it, changing it, you will only interpret it variously. BB King would have been on 16 September 90.

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