Blues. Buddy Guy - everybody's buddy!

Buddy Guy And Junior Wells - Play The Blues (2CD Limited Edition)
release on 07/08/2006

Track List

Disc 1
A man of many words
My baby she left me (she left me a mule to ride)
Come on in this house / Have mercy baby
T-bone shuffle
A poor man's plea
Messin' with the kid
This old fool
I don't know
Bad bad whiskey
Honeydripper
Dirty mother for you
Stone crazy

Disc 2
Why am I treated so bad? (playin' the blues)
Tears, tears, tears
Love her with a feeling
Checkin' up on my baby
Last night
First time I met the blues
D blues
Bad bad whiskey (long version)
You're so fine (mono rough mix)
Why am I treated so bad? (playin' the blues) (mono rough mix)
Sweet home Chicago (mono rough mix)

2Primal Scream:

>Buddy Guy And Junior Wells - Play The Blues (2CD
>Limited Edition)
>release on 07/08/2006

Ещё записи с Джуниором Вэлсом? Я хочу это слышать.
Я уже заочно влюблён в этот диск и его содержимое.
Опять продавцам в музмагах надоедать буду расспросами:)

Такой одинарный CD у меня давно, а двойник - это что-то, наверное, новенькое.

2Primal Scream:
>это что-то, наверное, новенькое.
On god nazad vyshel. Eto - LIMITED EDITION, ne naydem!

2SergeK:

Ты уже там?

2Primal Scream:
>Ты уже там?
Yes, sir!

Bluesfest 2006

2Maryless:

> фото предпоследнее.

Ух ты! А эт похожэ с "нашенского" с Алексом концерта в Таллине фотокарточка!

Сегодня Великому Бадди
исполняется 70.
Юбилей!
УРА!
:-)

УУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУРРРРРРРРРРРРРРРРАААААААААААААААААААААААААААААА!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
УУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУРРРРРРРРРРРРРРРРАААААААААААААААААААААААААААААА!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
УУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУРРРРРРРРРРРРРРРРАААААААААААААААААААААААААААААА!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
УУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУРРРРРРРРРРРРРРРРАААААААААААААААААААААААААААААА!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
УУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУРРРРРРРРРРРРРРРРАААААААААААААААААААААААААААААА!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
УУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУРРРРРРРРРРРРРРРРАААААААААААААААААААААААААААААА!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
УУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУРРРРРРРРРРРРРРРРАААААААААААААААААААААААААААААА!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Guitar legend celebrates his 70th birthday in his adopted hometown

words: Leonard Pierce

Seventy years is a long time to have the blues. But Buddy Guy isn’t complaining.

It’s about a thousand miles from Louisiana to Legends -- his, well, legendary blues club on S. Wabash -- but to make the trip, he had to overcome poverty, stage fright and bad record deals. To look at him now, almost fifty years after he arrived in Chicago as a teenager, you’d never know that he once had to guzzle booze and quack remedies just to muster the courage to get on stage: His live presence, even as he enters his septuagenarian phase, is as electric and dynamic as it was back in the 1960s, when his flashy guitar playing earned him the eternal admiration of none other than Eric Clapton.

Through all of the years and innumerable hits, Buddy Guy has earned the respect of a city that demands a lot out of its bluesmen. Nowadays, he enjoys a reputation similar to that of Muddy Waters -- a pretty comfortable place to be, considering that Guy was once Waters’ protйgй. Guy’s Legends has played host to pretty much everyone worth mentioning since opening 17 years ago, but its namesake isn’t always in residence; he tours indefatigably and shows no sign of letting age slow him up.

This year will be an exception, though; with his birthday falling at the end of the month, Guy will take a break from touring (he’s currently in Europe and scheduled to hit Canada after he blows out his candles) to spend a week on stage at his home base.

Festivities kick off on July 25, and the week’s entertainment includes young guns like Mike Morgan & the Crawl, fellow Chicago legend Jimmy Johnson, educator and blues historian Fruteland Jackson and Kenny “Blues Boss” Wayne. The actual birthday celebration will be Aug. 1, and while the entire lineup has yet to be announced, considering how many people idolize Buddy Guy, there’s bound to be some big-name surprises. The man who says, in his signature tune “Damn Right I’ve Got the Blues,” that he wants to make it “so funky you can smell it,” is sure to have a few tricks left in him.

В связи с такой примечательной датой такова замечательнова товарисча, выкладываю недавнее интервью Бадди,которое он дал Шону МакДевитту, для журнала Guitar One

A LEAGUE OF HIS OWN
--------------------
ot that he really needed the props, but Buddy Guy's recent induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame confirms what the guitar community has known for quite some time: the man is a music legend. And even though he's come to embody the blues, he won't be satisfied until he saves it.
BY SEAN McDEVITT
t's 8:30 a.m. on a Monday in New York City, and Buddy Guy is awake, alert, and ready to talk. The cup of coffee in front of him, delivered to his 40th-floor Times Square hotel suite just minutes ago, goes untouched. I sit at the table next to hit fighting back yawns.
Too early? Hardly. It's never too early for someone who grew up on a farm in rural Louisiana—someone who knows what it means to feed livestock and collect eggs before daybreak, someone who knows what it means to rough it, to handle day-to-day chores without so much as a single modern convenience, like electricity or running water. "I've never had an alarm clock," Guy says, gen tly opening a blind to let the morning sun filter through. "When I'm out here on the road, I don't need a wake-up call or nothin'. I can come in at 2:30 in the morning, and even if we've got a 5 a.m. flight, they don't have to wake me up. I think I learned that from the rooster."
The rooster may have taught Guy to rise early, but he learned how to play guitar, and how to roll with the punches, on his own. The end result, more than 45 years after he first arrived in the Windy City, is an honor he acknowledges as the ultimate: induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.
"I didn't even dream of sitting here and answering your questions when I went to Chicago, on September 25,1957," Guy offers. "I went looking for a job that would pay me a little moremoneythanlwas making [asacus-todian at Louisiana State University—Ed.} in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. I never did find that job, but I could play three or four numbers on the guitar, and I woke up one day and somebody was asking me to play the guitar."
Guy's induction is a formal acknowledgement of what people like Eric Clapton, Jeff Beck, Stevie Ray Vaughan, Jimi Hendrix, and scores of others knew manyyears ago: Buddy Guy is an absolute titan of the fretboard, and a crucial, unmistakable influence to many of the world's greatest rock guitarists. Said Vaughan, "What I see in Buddy is open honesty, and knowing not to make your move too soon. But sometimes when I get around him, the only thing I can do is just floor it. He's standing there going, 'OK, now sing!' We'll get around each other and there's no telling what will happen."
"He was for me what Elvis was probably like for other people," Clapton, who as a teen watched Guy perform in England, said the night of Guy's induction, at the Waldorf-AstoriaHotelinNewYork City. "My course was set, and he was my pilot."
Guy's honor, however, simultaneously illuminates a stark reality about members of his generation—there aren't many of them left. Guy, who will soon turn 69, joins B.B. King, who turns 80 in September, and Bo Diddley, who will be 77 in December, as the only living bluesmen in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. "He's a friend, he's a great musician, and I thinkhe's a role model for many of the young guitarists out there," said B.B. King from an Oregon hotel room just days after Guy's induction. "He's a great person. He's just Buddy— he's himself. He plays like Buddy, and I thinkpeople like that." Guy is also the first blues guitarist not inducted posthumously since John Lee Hooker, in 1991. Direct links to the post-World War II heyday of Chicago blues are increasingly dwindling, a fact that isn't lost on Guy. "I would say I learned from people whose shoes will never be filled," Guy says. "What Beck and Eric and Hendrix and them have said about me, I've said about those guys who came before me. Every award I get, including this induction, I feel like it should have been Lightnin' Hopkins and Little Walter, people like that. 'Cause everything I got, I got from them. I'm just trying to carry it on."
Guy hadheard those sounds growingup in Louisiana, and it was through the glory of radio that he became acquainted with the likes of Hopkins and Eddie "Guitar Slim" Jones, whose penchant for wild showmanship would lay the groundwork for Guy's own approach to the stage. But Guy knew as a young man that while simply hearing blues players was a good start, seeing them play would be even better. So he set out for Chicago.
'At that point in time, Chicago was 24-7, and you had 24-7 musicians," says Guy. "You had Muddy in his prime, Howlin' Wolf.... I can name them until this time next week. It was just a joy to see these people play—I wanted to see how it was really supposed to be done. And that's exactly what I did."

продолжение:
The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame isn't the only tiling on Guy's plate these days. His 1991 Grammy-winning comeback album, Damn Right, I've Got the Blues, has been reissued with the "expanded edition" treatment to include two U.K. B-sides: "Doin' What I like Best" and "Trouble Don't Last"; he's already spent much of the first half of 2005 on the road; and he's completed another record, due later this year, which will feature guest appearances by, among others, Carlos Santana and Keb' Mo'. "Hopefully, I'll have hit the right notes and sung the right lyrics, and we'll break out a little bit," Guy says. "If we let it do it on its own, maybe we'll get a little airplay. We've got one or two real blues songs on there that I wrote, and then we've got some with beats on there. But I tried that with Sweet Tea, and I got great reviews for that record, and it never did get the airplay. So I don't know what it takes." There are indeed times when Guy seems hesitant to discuss his studio recordings, and his trepidation is understandable. Now more than four decades after he first recorded, he still isn't sure that he's made his masterpiece. His Chess sides, released from 1960 to 1966, are considered blues classics, featuring a stinging attack and piercing (although thin) tone, as well as straight-from-the-pul-pit vocals. However, Guy has long claimed he was restrained in the studio during that time, and that those recordings could have been much more.
"They just thought it was a lot of noise back then," Guy says of his days at Chess. "You know, it was their record company, and they had sold a lot of records with Muddy Waters and a lot of other people, and they just didn't hear it. Take hip-hop now—back then, we couldn't even say in the studio some of the things they say on record now. There were a lot of things that me and a lot of other people wanted to do that sooner or later came out; and those things turned out not to be as bad as people thought they were gonna be."
Rock players, though, took notice. Subsequent recording efforts by Guy, including 1968's A Man and the Blues for Vanguard Records, further cemented his growing reputation. "I remember listening to Buddy as a teenager, and I was just amazed by his openness," says Robert Cray. "He was different than all the other guys in that he took a lot of chances. It seemed like he came from a different place, more of a rock 'n' roll thing. He lends himself to the rock player's ear in all of us. He was that serious link between the blues and rock 'n' roll in the '60s."
Said Carlos Santana in a mid-'90s interview: "Buddy injected a different kind of passion into the mainstream of electric guitar. It reminds me of a bottle of Perrier that's been left in the car a long time, all shaken up. It's effervescent."
Had Jimi Hendrix lived beyond September of 1970, he likely would have echoed the sentiments of Cray and Santana. Hendrix died too young to speak with his interviewers at length about the blues players he loved, but those who crossed paths with him knew the truth. And one instance involving Guy was even documented for posterity: On Sunday, April 7, 1968, Guy played a Manhattan nightspot called the Generation Club—which, as fate would have it, later became Electric Lady Studios—and the gig, just three days after the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King in Memphis, was captured by noted filmmaker D.A. Pennebaker for an unreleased project called A Wake at Generation. The Jimi Hendrix Experience was booked to play two shows in nearby Newark, New Jersey, that night, but downtown Newark was a bastion of rioting, violence, and mayhem following King's murder. With the second show cancelled due to safety concerns (only a fraction of the first show's ticket holders bothered to show up), Hendrix made his way to the Generation Club—where Pennebaker's single camera captured him standing (literally) at Guy's feet, acting as Pennebaker's de facto soundman as he taped the sounds that emanated from Guy onstage.
"I was up there with my guitar behind myhead," Guyrecalled, "and people started hollering, 'Hendrix! Hendrix!' He came right up to me and said, 'Pay them no mind. Can I tape what you play?'"
Linda Keith, an early believer in Hendrix's potential (she introduced the then-unknown guitarist to Rolling Stones manager Andrew Oldham in the summer of 1966, in an attempt to find a vehicle for Hendrix's music), confirmed Guy's influence in 1992 's Hendrix: Setting the Record Straight, a book by Hendrix archivist John McDermott and engineer Eddie Kramer: "I was always pushing [Jimi] to play the blues, and he was rejecting that, in part because his great influences were Buddy Guy and Otis Rush, and he felt that he could not match up to them, certainly not in terms of his vocals." She later adds, in describing her attempts to provide Hendrix with a quality guitar for an early audition, "Jimi desperately wanted to play a Fender Stratocaster, as had his idols Buddy Guy and Otis Rush."
Guy's status as an influential guitar hero wasn't buying him much by the dawn of the 1980s, though— he seemed on the verge of extinction, unable to land an album deal Stateside and finding minimal critical and commercial success with several European issues. Even today, nearly 15 years removed from the beginning of his early-'90s resurgence, Guy still isn't quite at peace with the business realities of the music industry.
His complaints, in fairness, aren't entirely without merit. His first three records for Silvertone earned Grammys, but later albums brought criticism: Guy was either trying too hard to replicate the sound of Damn Right, I've Got the Blues, or he was being too blatant in his efforts to cross over to a rock audience—a specific knock on 1998's Heavy Love. Guy responded with 200 l's Sweet Tea, a pure, genuine blues album that was widely lauded by critics. Trouble is, radio stations didn't play it.
"I'm concerned about blues now," Guy says. "It used to be that you could release a record, and if it had something going for it and'cap-tured people's ears, you couldn't hold it. Nowadays, I think records need help. If you can get it on one of these big stations, this young generation of people will listen to it, and you might sell a few more copies. But that's what hurts the blues: the younger record-buying people don't hear it enough.

окончание:

"When I came up, I could turn my radio to an AM station, and all of a sudden—boom!—there's Muddy Waters," Guy continues. "Then Mahalia Jackson. Or Frank Sinatra or Count Basie. It was great listening. But you don't hear all that [variety] anymore. If I didn't hear nothin' but Count Basie, I'd have probably tried to be a j azz musician. But I could hear everything I wanted."
Former Squirrel Nut Zippers front-man James "Jimbo" Mathus backed Guy on Sweet Tea and 2003's acoustic Blues Singer, and he knows firsthand Guy's zeal for a wide variety of sounds—not to mention his spontaneity. "Music is kind of an internal process for him," says Mathus. "Even when I've played live gigs with him, he doesn't tell you what he's gonna play or what key he's gonna play it in. He's not going out there and playing things that are safe, at any time. He's a real cutting-edge artist, and he likes to fly out there in the danger zone."
Guy is keen on reminding his interviewers that he's not going to quit—a fairly curious suggestion, especially for someone who's just been inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Quit? Twenty-five years ago, maybe. But now? No way. The point is revealing nonetheless: Guy genuinely views himself as someone who still has something to prove, despite all the awards and accolades he's received. At the same time, he feels a deep commitment to keeping the blues alive and well.
"One thing I'm speaking out about is a blues museum in Chicago," he says, surveying the Manhattan skyline and pointing to one of the countless skyscrapers on the horizon. "And if I can get this thing off the ground, I'd love to see the faces of the great blues players molded at the top, just like that building there. Wouldn't that be beautiful?"

Спасибо, Джон Ли!!!

Buddy Guy Still Rocking at 70
By Judy Keen
USA Today


CHICAGO (July 31) — Muddy Waters, Howlin' Wolf and Junior Wells have been gone for years. But Buddy Guy , who performed with them all, is still playing the blues. Sitting on a black leather couch in his office up a steep staircase from his club, Buddy Guy 's Legends, Guy is spry and reflective despite having returned home just a couple of days ago from touring Europe and Japan.


He's on the road constantly — 30 shows in July and August alone — and plays with the fervor of a man half his age, his fingers racing across the frets as he strolls right into his audiences. He likes coming home to tend the tomatoes he grows in the yard of his big suburban house, but retirement? Not yet.


For him, music is a way to communicate and heal. "I think music speaks in all languages, and I think everybody who's breathing breath out of their body has had a problem in one way or the other," he says. "You come see me, I'll make you forget about it for an hour and a half or two."


A bottle of cognac sits on a table in front of him. Nearby are an array of guitars, including one with polka dots. The red walls are almost covered with memorabilia: Stevie Ray Vaughan's guitar and a white one signed by Bon Jovi 's Ritchie Sambora, photos of Guy with Waters and Wells, a proclamation for his 2003 National Medal of the Arts.


Guy turned 70 on Sunday and celebrates Tuesday by performing at a party at his club. Then he'll be right back out on the road.


"I didn't ever think I would see this birthday," he says. When he came to Chicago in 1957 from Louisiana, he says, he saw plenty of knife fights in the clubs on the South Side and worried he'd end up in one of them. "I was much wilder than I am now," he says.


"I'm just like an old car: Every time you screw one bolt, another rattles," he says. "I can't jump out the second floor anymore" — something he did in New York in 1969 in an escapade he won't describe further.


He enjoys wandering through the past, describing his sharecropper parents, trying to find work after taking a train here from home, meeting his idol and mentor. Shortly after arriving in Chicago and having not eaten for three days, someone took him to the 708 Club, where he wailed on the guitar until somebody alerted Waters that a hot new player had hit town.


"Muddy came and brought a loaf of bread and some salami," Guy says. "He made me a sandwich and said, 'Don't think about going back to Louisiana. I'm Mud.' I told him, 'I met you, I ain't even hungry now.' "


The 708 is gone now. So are the Blue Flame, the Squeeze Club and dozens of other clubs that were once crammed in four or five to a block on the South and West sides.


Many of the blues clubs are on the North Side now. Most are filled with tourists and white locals. At the House of Blues, blues isn't on the marquee very often.


"Those are the clubs that attract the most business, so people want to play there," says David Grazian, author of the 2003 book Blue Chicago: The Search for Authenticity in Urban Blues Clubs. "They wind up sucking up all of the talent from the rest of the city."


Singer Shirley King, B.B. King 's daughter, says it's harder to find work now than it probably was when Guy arrived. "You have to fight to use the blues as a way of becoming somebody," she says.

Guy feels that, too: "Blues is beginning to make me feel like an endangered species." It doesn't get enough radio play, so it doesn't sell, he says. "Thirty years ago I would tell you there was a handful of us left. The hand is not even full now."


He isn't slowing down. He has been taking hypertension medication for 30 years, but he's fit and energetic. He plays every January at his club in the Loop. His 2005 album, Bring 'Em In, paired him with John Mayer and Carlos Santana and earned a Grammy nomination.


Can't Quit the Blues, a three-CD box set with a DVD documentary, will be released Oct. 31 by Silverstone/Legacy. Guy will appear soon on MTV for the first time to talk about his daughter, rapper Shawnna.


Guy inspired Jimi Hendrix , Jeff Beck , Vaughan and Eric Clapton . When Clapton inducted Guy into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame last year, he described seeing Guy play in London in 1965: "He was for me what Elvis was for most other people. My course was set, and he was my pilot."


Guy says he's still learning. After gigs in Japan with Beck and Santana , he says, "I'm saying, 'Wow, how come I couldn't find that note?' Then I've got to go home and figure out" how they had done it.


He reaches for that cognac only when about to play. "I still get the jitters," he says. "I still don't think I'm as good as I should be."

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