Jimmie Vaughan
Tramp's, New York, July 10, 1998

As each passing year takes the blues further out of its original social context, blues artists struggle to maintain their relevance. While many have fallen short, turning the blues into a bar-room nostalgia act, a few have succeeded. In recent years, young bluesman Corey Harris has used his powerful voice and simple guitar style to evoke legends like Muddy Waters and Robert Johnson. The late Stevie Ray Vaughan, on the other hand, used his otherworldly prowess on guitar to kick the crap out of the songs he performed. (Watch a rerun of the W.C. Clark tribute from Austin City Limits in '89 and you'll get the picture.)

In that picture you might also see Stevie's older brother, Jimmie, a competent rhythm guitarist with a better voice than his younger sibling and a more easy-going stage-presence. Unfortunately, these traits are not quite enough for him to carry the weight of the blues on his shoulders. Instead, he comes across as more of a late-night talk show bandleader, guiding a bunch of slightly geeky session musicians through a set of well-choreographed dazzle. He sings in a voice that, while strong, would be more emotive if he gave more authority to his phrasing instead of swallowing the beginnings and ends of his lines. His soloing ability is adequate and never offensive, but consists of an endless string of preparatory remarks. It's as if his guitar goes from, "I'm about to say something. I'm really gonna do it this time," directly into, "I just said something! Did you hear it?" with nothing in between.

That said, there were real moments of raucous enjoyment in Vaughan's set -- they just weren't the bluesiest of the night. In fact, when the band stepped out of its regular format into something a little more spicy, the audience came alive, transforming from a sea of listless head-bobbers to bona fide booty-shakers. "Out There," the title track from Vaughan's latest album, was one of several show highlights in this vein. Rather than emphasize Vaughan's showmanship and soloing alone, that song showcased a collective groove.

The good news is that Jimmie Vaughan is backed by a new band of talented players playfully dubbed Tilt-a-Whirl. The bad news is he rarely let them cut loose. While this kind of frontman domination is normal in the electric blues tradition, it doesn't suit this band's strengths at all. When Jimmie finally passed the torch in the final encore, the other musicians, as well as the audience, responded with zeal. The result was a rollicking closer that ended the night on a satisfying peak.

Finally, no evaluation of this Jimmie Vaughan show would be complete without a tribute to his three muscle-bound male background singers. Clad in shrink-wrapped tank-tops, the trio broke out sporadically into exuberant dance variations on an end-zone theme. What they lacked in vocal talent, they more than made up for in homoerotic charge. Jimmie's fans went wild for them -- and *that* might have been the evening's biggest surprise.

JAMIE COWPERTHWAIT