Okay, so they're not sporting six-packs and sprayed-on leather jeans.
Nor are they leaping around the stage or dodging airborne panties. So what.
That's a whole lot of legend sitting on those chairs up there, passing
sweet and well-seasoned blues licks back and forth like a plateful of
the best Southeastern barbecue.
I've been fortunate to see all but Eric Clapton in live performance. And I recently watched Jeff Beck and Buddy Guy play together in the HBO Hall of Fame special, which in turn led me to dream of an evening wherein Beck and Eric Sardinas joined forces with Guy, King, Clapton, Vaughan, and friend of this blog Minstrel Boy to put on a once-in-a-lifetime (but intimate!) show at one of St. Petersburg's many small and very fabulous nightclubs.
Should that awesomeness ever come to be, I'll let you know--and I'll be sure to save us all a big table up front.
Bon Weekend, everyone.
XXX
D.
