A September To Remember

Three superb and illustrious guitarists came slinging through this dusty cowtown in the month of September with a cumulative life span of 189 years, which averages to be 63 per axeman.  [NOTE: I did this higher math problem so you didn't have to, you're welcome]    If you're in the advanced age group (I am) or the electric guitar appreciation group (I am) or just a music nut in general group (we should all be), you would have been freaked over for this trio.

Dave Mason (age: 64)
Sept. 4, '10
Taste of Colorado

Every year during the Labor Day weekend, The Taste of Colorado celebrates local/regional/national cuisine and free music.  To heck with the buffalo chips and falafel bites, let's hear some open-air jams.  Of course, the food circuit with music has much to be desired.  This year it was Big Bad Voodoo Daddy, contemporary swing of the 40s and 50s (sorry, didn't go); Bret Michaels, singer of Poison (sorry, wouldn't go if you paid me); The Four Tops, R&B writers/performers of "I Can't Help Myself" and "Reach Out, I'll Be There" (barely heard two songs, not so hot, Sugar Pie) and Dave Mason, British guitarist and writer of "Feelin' Alright" and "Only You Know and I Know" (ZOIKS!  Had to see him).


The name Dave Mason conjured up a fragmented trip down memory lane.  I knew he had helped form Traffic ('67), played acoustic guitar with Hendrix on "All Along The Watchtower" ('68), played on George Harrison's "All Things Must Pass" LP ('70) and formed his own band ('70).  What I didn't know:  DM played on the Stones' "Beggars Banquet" ('68), toured with Delaney and Bonnie ('69-'70), released an LP with Cass Elliot ('71) and was set to be the second guitarist for Derek and the Dominos, instead of Duane Allman.  Talk about rock royalty.  The Dave Mason Band put out some classic tunes on 10 releases until '87 and, other than playing on Fleetwood Mac's "Time", not much material besides live stuff starting in '99.  After six years in the making, the '08 "26 Letters-12 Notes" was a great comeback disc and put DM back on the musical map.  And he is ready to release another one this year, hopefully.

At the Taste, he stormed through some tight grooves off this much anticipated disc and it sounded like he didn't miss a beat.  His voice was still as distinctive as his solo days and the few stray Traffic tracks.  But it was his guitar that sung like a veteran.  Wielding a green Strat, sunburst Les Paul and 12-string Ovation, crisp, precise leads rang out to proclaim that he is way under the rock radar but maybe, just maybe, he wants a little more attention.  He said he had been asked by a fan on this tour to "play that Joe Cocker song.  And then I realized that I actually wrote that song".  He blasted into "Feelin' Alright" and the sparse, toothless, stringy gray-haired crowd rocked along.  This sun-shiny afternoon gig highlighted all the lowlights of this scary crowd, but everybody was quite peaceful.  A lot of them should have been in bed, though.  And his encore?  A searing, euphoric "All Along The Watchtower" that left little doubt that DM still can rock and roll.  One had to wonder:  Mason might be driving his way into a Traffic jam.

Jimmie Vaughan (age: 59)
Sept. 16. '10
Soiled Dove Underground

A couple of weeks prior to this show, I jokingly was saying Jimmie Ray Vaughan.  I know, not so funny.  But you know what?  JV's guitar playing wasn't a joke, either.  Sure, he's the bro of Stevie.  Sure, he's not a virtuoso player/performer.  Sure, he hasn't shook the rock/blues world.  But JV awarded the capacity crowd of 400 with a strong sense of who he is and what he can do with his white Strat.

I didn't care much for The Fabulous Thunderbirds (Tuff 'Enuff?).  Nor did I consider him worthy of paying attention to.  I think I shouldn't be so quick on turning my nose up at somebody who is, according to other world-renowned guitarists, an accomplished and outstanding string-man.  I hadn't even given him a chance.  Though his catalog is rather spare, I listened to some of his earlier blues tunes, "Strange Pleasure" ('94), "Out There" ('98) and "Do You Get The Blues? ('01) and I was impressed.  Not 'Oh my, I'm blown away' but rather 'Hey, that's tasty'.  JV is touring in support of his newest, "Plays Blues, Ballads and Favorites" and in this low-ceiling, half-moon club, with two saxes, bass and drums accompanying him on upbeat shuffles, his set was hot and sweaty.  Aside from a few tunes that slowed the night down when a "who's that old lady?" singer came out, he was all rock and blues.  Some of my friends didn't want to see him because, in their minds, he was riding on Stevie's coat tails.  Their loss.  JV squeezed every ounce of his guitar journey out on stage and even showed some cockiness by playing a two-minute lead with guitar behind his head.  A smile on his face the whole set meant his legacy is still alive and we were all fortunate to catch him.  He knows what this crazy world can do to you and your family at any moment.  He is making the most of it right here, right now.  Go see JV.  He's not SRV.  He's not Jimmie Ray.  He's just a skilled musician doing what he does best.  And that's no joke.


Johnny Winter (age: 66)
Sept. 30, '10
Cervantes Masterpiece Ballroom

What can I say about the #9 pick on my personal list of top electric guitarists?  For a living stringbender (yes, JW is still alive and well), he is #6, behind Beck, Clapton, Page, Blackmore and Santana.  And you know what?  If Page doesn't have the licks (he admits he doesn't), if Blackmore isn't willing to resurrect Purple (calling Hughes, Lord, Paice) and Santana continues to put out unoriginal stuff (at least in comparison to "Abraxas") , JW would be my #3 of living legends.  On this particular night, in a room that normally could contain 1,700 patrons, a mere 400+/- showed and that was just plain wrong.  Here was, in the flesh, the best, white blues specialist in any world.  And he did not disappoint.

To be honest, the songs weren't even the event.  JW was.  With black cowboy hat pulled just above his piercing eyes, black sleeveless "T" showing just how skinny his tatoo'd arms are, black jeans, black boots and black Lazer guitar, you would have thought of a very white Black Bart.  With a pigmentation problem.  But before we get to him, let me mention the opening song, before JW took the stage.  A snarling, biting guitarist of unknown origin, completely strafed the crowd with an explosion so raw, so menacing, it left my jaw hurting.  This monster's name is Paul Nelson, rhythm guitarist.  And savior.  He helped JW recover from first: his long-time swindling manager, second: his painkiller addiction, third: a 2005 carpal tunnel surgery on his left wrist and fourth: a 2006 broken hip.  Not only can Nelson blast paint off a plane with his riffs, he can be a nice guy.  His sonic opening song paved the way for JW to shuffle to center stage, take his seat, nod to his friend and then totally tear up the place with "Red House".  

This was strictly a blues show.  I had read that JW is only playing the blues and very little rock.  It didn't matter.  Each song and solo were crystal clear and relentless.  He attacked all six strings with ten long, lean, manicured fingers.  And having a thumb pick, strumming down and plucking up with bare fingers, meant a constant melange of activity.  Old songs like "Apple Tree" and "Used To Love Her, It's All Over Now" were spun into the Wintersphere.  Songs by Sonny Boy, Muddy, Albert Collins.  And JW.  Amidst the show, I tried to remember what songs were being played, but all I could do is watch, listen and feel.    


I was pleasantly surprised at the number of youngsters that crowded to the front, as the older farts sat (yawn) at tables behind us.  I got close enough to smell his breath, though fortunately other smells prevailed.  One gripe I did have was with all the cell phone and digital cameras going off in his face.  It was one flash/glow/light after another.  But it didn't have any affect on JW, his unwavering stare, his gruff-less vocals or his guitar slicing.  And when he pulled out the Gibson Firebird and slid off the last two songs and was then accompanied off the stage, then and only then did I take a breath.  "I'll be playing blues on the open road till the day I die."  White.  Hot.  Blue.

Overall, these two Texans and one Brit, in one month alone, satisfied my greed and hunger for guitar.  Don't ask these fellas for their AARP cards.  They are in the prime of their lives.