"B.B. King Rocks The
Carlisle (PA) Theater"
April 2nd, 1996
Written by Micheal L. Pierich
My son and I headed to Carlisle early. The Theater is just off the picturesque square of this pre-Colonial town. It was six pm when we arrived under the 30's-era marquee, and the crowd for the 7:00 show already filled the art-deco lobby. Within 20 minutes the line stretched out of sight, deep into the adjacent alleys. The vibe of the crowd was universally pleasant and friendly, with a kind of electric current running through it all.
The doors finally opened at seven or so (things were running a bit late), but there was nary a grumble. Ruben and I made our way to our reserved seats in Row G. It's been a while since my last concert, so I had forgotten what a session in Row G could do to one's eardrums, especially 46-yr-old ones!
The audience was an all-encompassing mix of age, sex, and race, in business suits, torn jeans, and cardigans. I was already impressed by the apparent sheer breadth of appeal of Mr. King's music.
At last the house lights went down, stage lights up...the audience noise died to a low hum. With spotlights swooping, the band quickly took the stage, dressed in classy gray tuxedoes. After a short, loud (I now remembered about the ears) warm-up, the eight-piece orchestra wailed into some tunes that subtly blended together, weaving from brassy jazz to deep-down, warm blues. Under the direction of Walter King, BB's nephew, the band was fantastic in itself. Each player was world-class, naturally.
They had whipped the crowd into a frenzy after a 20-minute set, which culminated in BB's introduction. He was introduced as "The King of the Blues", and his entrance was regal indeed. Escorted onto stage under deep-blue overhead lights, with the spotlight shining off his soild gold lame' tux jacket, Mr. King was immediately a commanding presence.
He grabbed Lucielle right away, and with the band swinging in behind, ripped into a solid 45 minutes of boogie, honky-tonk, and plain old blues. Ruben,who at seventeen fancies himself a bluesman, was as awestruck as was I. It's not enough that the man's fingers move like that; but the overall energy he has at 71 is amazing. The man still has his moves.
A little over halfway through, chairs were brought onstage, and after a hilarious bit of stage fluff involving B.B.'s scolding Walter, the King continued with some old-style, country blues numbers. His stage-talk was easy, like front-porch talk among friends, making for a very intimate mood in the mid-sized theater. B.B. went back to his roots, explaining that the blues wasn't very popular as he grew up in Indianola, Mississippi; he said it was like "being Black twice." His slow blues numbers were exquisite, and his strong baritone was bell-clear and soulfully expressive.
The parting number was, of course, "The Thrill Is Gone." There is no describing the feeling of hearing this all-time classic performed by the man himself, in person. B.B. saved his finest licks for this number, and the crowd appreciated it. We all stood, well before the number was through, and the thunder of applause nearly drowned out the band.
After the last chords died, B.B. came to the front of the stage and began handing out guitar picks and trinkets as momentoes. I urged Ruben to go up, but the poor lad had been putting off a lavatory visit so he wouldn't miss a note of The King's blues. He ran to the back of the theater, sadly missing out on the souveniers. But when I met him outside a few minutes later, I could tell that he wouldn't need anything to remind him of this evening. The King had burned the blues into his memory for good.