B.B. King

There's going to be a showdown tonight. Nobody has said anything, but everybody knows it's going to happen. The loosely packed crowd at the Fillmore seems to know that it's something more than just another concert. The blues freaks are hunched over their prejudices like old horse players.

At the top of the bill is B.B. King, the master. Billed just under him is Albert King, another great blues man. It is well known that Albert has long been unhappy with the Avis-Hertz relationship he has had the B.B. for Albert, number two isn't good enough.

Albert is up first, the challengers position, and as his back-up band comes on stage the crowd moves with a new tension. Albert lumbers on stage, his confident smile and slightly hunched shoulders telling you that a mean dude has come to town. Albert's blues have a raw edge, as subtle as a piledriver but just as powerful. The music is loud and coarse, and Albert's guitar rages over it all.

The audience likes it. As each wave of music passes over the audience, they move more and more. In his final number, Albert builds and builds and the audience 'goes with him. At the climax, the audience bursts to its feet, screaming for more. Albert, sensing a triumph, obliges. As he leaves the stage, the audience cries out hungrily for still more. Like a politician far ahead in the early returns, Albert goes to his dressing room with an air of cautious expectation that maybe, just maybe, this could be the night.

As B.B.'s sidemen, Sonny Freeman and the Unusuals, find their places on stage, B.B. comes out briefly to tune his guitar. He is nervous. This brief ritual finally over, he disappears backstage as the band breaks into its standard jazz intro. And then, as they've done so many times before, they strike up B.B.'s theme song, "Everyday I Have the Blues." B.B. moves to the stage. Palms together, fingers pointing to heavens, he bows to the audience. Then he starts to play.