When I was in college, I went to the Arena Theatre in
Houston for an experience that I will undoubtedly treasure my whole life. I got to see several of my favorite bands in
the 90s, but I’m typically very behind trends in music, so I get into acts long
after they stop touring. I started
listening to Stevie Ray Vaughan in the 90s, Classic Rock later than that. So I haven’t gotten to see very many really
great acts in my lifetime.
But on that occasion, I saw the best concert I’ve ever
seen. B.B. King, then probably in his
late 70s, took the stage in a truly wonderful show. Bobby Blue Bland rocked as the opening
act. There was no light show, no smoke,
no lasers, no fire. It was just good
music played by two very good bands.
B.B. himself only stood for a few songs, then took a stool
for the rest of the show. Didn’t
matter. He was amazing. He captivated that room. He demanded your attention, but not with
harshness, but with a kindness that a grandpa holds the attention of the
grandkids. We wanted to hear his
stories, and he told them well. He was
approachable and funny, kind and inviting.
There have been remarkably few entertainers like him, and I
feel very blessed to have experienced that in person. I will miss him, not because I ever expected
to see his show again, but because the one time I did see him, he made it
personal and full of awe.
Most of my favorite bands I want to see “again.” I’ve seen U2 twice, and I’d like to see them
again, for example. But the satisfaction
I got from that night watching the king lingers with me still, and like a man
newly full from a heavy meal, I am content, I am happy, and while I am a little
melancholy that it is over, I do not need any more. I’m just glad to have had that sort of meal
in the first place.
Thanks, Mr. King.
Rest in peace.
