Got 'dem Xmas shoppin' blues, mama....

I don't know about you, but when I think of the blues (and who doesn't around Christmas time), I'm thinking Fairfield, CT.  Oh, yeah.  Y'all can hit me with being stuck in Mobile with the Memphis blues again or your Chicago blues, Delta blues or Texas blues, but y'all ain't got nothin' to touch Fairfield County blues, fueled by generations of rich kids with expensive guitars rippin' off  Muddy Waters, Howlin' Wolf,  John Lee Hooker  (Oh, Johnny Mayer, hey!  Was Jessica really a freak?  Cool).

I've got to admit I've never heard of Hubert Sumlin or the Nighthawks.  But Marcia read this article in the NH Register and sent around this email and The Reet can't go and Sharie can't go, but Keith can and, suddenly, we're going to see them at the Fairfield Theatre Company Friday night.  Excellent pre-concert pizza pies at the Valentes before heading out.  It's an early show, 'cause you know that Fairfield blues aficionados need to get back to check their stock quotes at eleven.  We drop off Marcia/Vin at will call and cruise the train station parking lot looking for that perfect spot.  Failing miserably on that account, we park in front of some plumbing factory, which means we have a 50/50 chance of finding the car when we return after the show.  But, hey, it's Keith's car.  On the walk back to FTC, we see at least three PERFECT parking spots.

It's just fifteen minutes before showtime, yet the lobby is sparsely filled.  While Vin is missing in action in the men's room, Marcia and I saddle up to the bar for a glass of wine and a Dos Equis, respectively (I'm not the most interesting man in the world, but I've been ranked as high as ninth).  We think Vin has been abducted from the men's room; we're thinking of sending in a posse, but he eventually appears unscathed.  We go inside.  The venue is intimate, about fifteen rows high directly in front of the stage and limited seating on either side. The Nighthawks appear on stage.  They've been touted as the world's greatest bar band - and, before they play a note, I'm thinking they sure look the part (i.e. you don't gotta be pretty to play the blues, mama; actually, let me amend that - You CAN'T be pretty to play the blues.  (Oh, hey again, Johnny Mayer.  Jess, really that freaky?  Cool.).

Some Nighthawks history:

The Nighthawks had its genesis when lead singer-harmonica player extraordinaire Mark Wenner returned to his native Washington, D.C., after six years in New York City, lured back by the success of his friend Bobby Radcliff's local acclaim with a blues band. Mark joined forces with a very young Jimmy Thackery and formed The Nighthawks in 1972. They spent a couple of years building The Nighthawks' reputation with a revolving cast of characters until, in 1974, they decided to get the best rhythm section the area had to offer: Jan Zukowski on bass and Pete Ragusa on drums.  The Nighthawks set off on a musical mystery tour that took them to 49 states and a dozen countries. They played with nearly all the living blues legends as well as a new generation of bands sometimes called “the Blue Wave,” and released several important albums, including the best-selling Jacks and Kings with Pinetop Perkins, Luther “Guitar Junior” Johnson, Calvin Jones and Bob Margolin. (more)

They get off to a nice start with a rockabilly Blue Christmas sung by their leader/harp player/founding member Mark Wenner.  The small theater has pretty much filled, a mostly older crowd  (I was going to say mature, but I looked to the left/right of me and thought better off it).  Chicago blues.  Energetic, rockin' (as my friend, Fish Burrito Jeff from Texas, would say).  They spread the lead vocals around.  And I really like the lead guitar, Paul Bell; very tasty without showing off.  The bass is a big ole boy with a husky voice and a pounding style and we are blown away by the drummer's vocals on one song later in the set.  He is the most recent member of a group of many personnel changes.  Hmmmm, isn't that the Temptations' Can't Get Next to You?  Nice.  They break for intermission after about an hour, promising to bring out Hubert for the second set.

Marcia chats it up with an old work mate, who we find out frequents Cafe Nine and was there for "that king of swamp blues guy."   Hey, buddy, that was Tony Joe White.  Let's have a little respect.  We're back in our seats for the second set when we see the 'Hawks helping a smiling, frail, old black man onto the stage and into a chair near the center microphone.  They strap on his Stratocaster  (I think, what the hell do I know!).  "How y'all doin' tonight?"  Loud applause, breaking the somewhat uneasy spell in the room. 

(From Wikipedia, so it must be true) Hubert Sumlin, born November 16, 1931), is an American blues guitarist and singer, best known for his celebrated work, from 1955, as guitarist in Howlin' Wolf's band. His singular playing is characterized by "wrenched, shattering bursts of notes, sudden cliff-hanger silences and daring rhythmic suspensions".  Listed as number sixty-five in the Rolling Stone 100 Greatest Guitarists of All Time, Sumlin continues to tour and play blues guitar. He is cited as a major influence by many artists, including Eric Clapton, Keith Richards, Robbie Robertson, Stevie Ray Vaughan, Jimmy Page and Jimi Hendrix.

The Nighthawks back Hubert during the forty-five minute set, filling in the blanks, deferring to him whenever he wants a solo.  It's obviously a labor of love for all of them.  Not many wrenched, shattering bursts of notes tonight, but it's cool to listen to, watch.  Some guy in the audience to the left of the stage is in ecstacy, going ballistic with every note, playing air guitar, even air harmonica!  He's a show unto himself!  Anyway, the guys are having fun and so is the crowd.  The show wraps up without an encore.  Marcia grabs a Nighthawks cd (unsigned) and we're off into the night.  BUT WHERE'S THE CAR!!!!!  Just kidding.