Chapter 73

BluesFest

7/22/2005 

musical interlude                                

Trying to stop rushing to press with each story but hard to hold back as I’ve got several backlogged on the shelf; attempting a self limit of not more than one a week.

Have become somewhat of a cultural affairs and music critic in the senior years so I went down to the beautiful (free) annual Blues Festival at the Empire State Plaza in Albany. Many other terrific events are also held there. It wont appeal to all, but it is very picture worthy and is a professional event bringing in maybe a dozen acts demonstrating the many colors and shades of the blues including major league talent, like Buddy Guy for the night cap. There are at least 4 mini venues/stages.

Although this sort of music sustains me on swaps, I was so tired from a drive on Friday (rain and administrative snafus) that I missed the opening night battle of the bands, that the youthful (local) Matt Mirabile  combo (sideburns) won and got the honor to do an additional Saturday gig at the North Stage. Outstanding.

A truck driver’s colorful holler was belted out by a real gruff character, Watermellon Slim (red shirt & slide guitar).

In the workshop, Shemekia Copeland’s voice (sitting at the table) (sire Johnny) goes right through you. Was accompanied by Arthur Neilson, as she was in Martin Scorsese's "The Blues" on PBS. Intimate connection with the audience of about a dozen people. You are right up close and personal. You can’t buy an experience like this.

Kenny Neal and Billy Branch (guitar and harp/ harmonica at the Acoustic Tent) were the highlight of the event as far as I was concerned. They were smokin.  Used some of my per diem to buy their Double Take CD afterwards (WC Handy Acoustic Album of the Year 2005). 

Main Stage was down by the State Library at the end of the reflecting pools. [@DEC I used to walk thru here every day to catch bus, now I now retrieve Court of Appeals, State Appellate, and Supreme Court briefs from microfiche in this bldg]

Two thumbs up.