![To prove more with less, he picked up the white Strat (Charley) for Tin Pan Alley,]( "To prove more with less, he picked up the white Strat (Charley) for Tin Pan Alley,")
To prove more with less, he picked up the white Strat (Charley) for "Tin Pan Alley",
laid back and closed in on the groove, talking from his heart with tasty, light little
blue notes. Voices cried out after every twelfth bar, encouraging him to take another
turn. The blue lights turned his red velvet suit a deep voilet, and he took on a
princely appearance. His vocals were smooth and coy; if the guitar histrionics were
too much, he'd sure as hell have gotten the audience's attention when he sang "I heard
a pistol shoot." A woman screamed wildly. He was telling it like he knew this place,
and man, he'd been there. Stepping back, he whispered "It's like this..." howling on
the high e-string. Suddenly his blue-lit face was in terrible pain; he was crying silently
to himself as his guitar heaved sobs. His eyes closed tight, his teeth clenched, his lips
were saying "no, no no". He stung a high note hard and quick, opening his mouth to let a
big sigh rush out, audible over his vocal mike two feet away. Then another note, another
sigh and he was all played out.
He called a stop and growled at the crowd jumping into "Love Struck Baby", the old Rome
Inn barnburner. He snarled through the solo, tossing his hat onto the mike stand, ducking
under his guitar strap, and playing the thing behind his head. The cameras revealed the
unpleasant truth: Stevie Ray, barely thirty, was mostly bald. He busted a string on Charley,
switching over to Number One for "Texas Flood", and his tone was blasting. The mojo bag that
hung from his belt was most definitely working. He slipped into T-Bone's shoes, and they fit.
He swung around, unplugged the instrument in mid-solo, and replugged it behind his back,
playing the rest with both eyes closed. He finished the entire last verse behind his back,
flipping the guitar back and forth, never missing a note. Then he introduced the band;
Tommy kissed his bass and winked, Whipper waved. "Domo Arrigato - to you!" Stevie bid the
audience. A thick cloud of pot smoke hovered over the arena. Stevie took a deep whiff, a
maniacal grin on his lips.
He returned for an encore of "Lenny." Stevie was sutting alone with her center stage,
thinking of his woman back home, gently tugging her whammy bar, and making her quiver in his
hands. He sat relaxed, smoking a pipe that he soon ditched, coughing. The song was his
masterpiece for the night. This old girl was his companion when times were hardl he faded
paint job and smoke-yellowed crusty pickups had seen it all. He hunched over, touching her
neck softly. His head was buried deep in her body, close enough to kiss her fretboard. He
threw in some Wes Montgomery, lost in the cool jazz and memories. Dueling bass lines with
Tommy, his amp buzzed low as he turned the low E string down as far as it would go until it
just died out. After all the whang-barring and de-tuning he was horribly clangy, but
finished up with a beautiful precursor to "Riviera Paradise."
Jumping up out of the blues, he launched into "Testify". Here he went holding it like a
violin, again tuning down the already appaling cacaphony and wailing like crazy. Finally, the
sound just became too awful, and he reached to Number One for some serious trickery; he played
it backwards, forwards, upside-down and sideways, one-handed, back-handed, and no-handed - he
could do it with both hands tied behind his back. He was reciting "Third Stone", and the rhythm
section was rocking hard. While they went on, Stevie yanked off Number One and threw her to
the floor, lunging after her as if he was going to rape the poor thing. Nect he was humping it,
whanging it to death, shsking it, throwing the controls past ten, making her whistle like a
train and whinny like a horse. Stevie hunched over her, flipped her over by the whammy bar,
jumped on top and rolled around the stage with her. Leaping to his feet, he tossed her into the
air and caught her just in time to hammer the last ... excruciating ... note, and it was
"Goodnight Tokyo!"
