Review by Pete Roche
We’ve all seen
pauper-to-prince tales of rock and roll glory depicted in documentaries and
concert films on the big screen, but few guitarists boast more humble
beginnings than B.B. King.
Born in 1948 in a
rickety plantation cabin outside Berclair, Mississippi, the man now known as
The King of Blues first had to overcome poverty and racism before conquering
the world with his booming voice and signature guitar style. Now, for the first time ever, B.B. gets the
“behind the music” treatment in a new film by director Jon Brewer, who helmed
similar features about British rockers like Yes and Moody Blues.
Narrated by The
Electric Company’s uber-cool “Easy Reader” Morgan Freeman, the biopic traces
the life of the man born Riley B. King from humble beginnings in a segregated
post-war South to his domination in both blues and pop music. Struggle, survival, and salvation emerge as
recurring themes as Brewer calls on eyewitness testimony from B.B.’s friends,
family members, and former band mates about the oppression the entertainer
faced coming up in an America where blacks and whites just didn’t mix. Also chiming in are dozens of white rockers
who attest to King’s brilliance and note how second-generation musicians in the
United States got received their first blues lessons vis-à-vis their British
counterparts in the 1960’s.
Complementing Freeman’s
discourse and B.B.’s first-hand accounts are a slew of old images, archive
footage, and sepia-tone recreations of young Riley’s days growing up in the
Delta. We learn how the boy shuffled
from one shack to the next under his grandmother’s care, and how he toiled six
days a week (for eighteen long years) plowing fields and picking cotton on
Cartledge Farm. He gravitated toward music
as a church choirboy, taking to heart Professor Luther H. Henson’s lessons on
treating one’s body like a temple. And
when a benevolent boss fronted the $15.00 needed to purchase his first guitar,
B.B. dutifully paid the money back.
After spending some
time with his father (who called him “Jack”) and his step-siblings, B.B.
started busking in town on Saturday nights, earning the nickname “Blues
Boy.” Undeterred by naysayers, he
frequently entered talent contests in hopes of winning the $1 cash prize, which
would get him through the week.
Sisters and second
cousins report that the guitarist never held racism’s institutionalism against
any one white man. Despite having seen a
lynching himself, B.B. was blessed by having a black “rider” supervise his work
on the farms. And when a freak tractor accident
prompted flight to Memphis, B.B. eventually returned “with his tail between his
legs” to his white employer, who forgave him.
B.B. makes a name for
himself as a singer and guitarist in the Famous St. John’s Gospel Singers and
tested his first marriage to Martha King with his tour schedule. In a stroke of luck, he played a gig
originally meant for Sonny Boy Williamson—who encouraged him to get a job in
radio. While working as a disc jockey at
the black-operated WDIA, B.B. cut his first jingle for Pep-Ti-Kon tonic and
sharpened his skills in Robert Lockwood Jr.’s band. A fortuitous arrangement between Nashville’s
Bullet Records and Chicago’s famous Chess label enabled B.B. to record his
first single, “3 O’Clock Blues.”
The middle of the film
follows B.B. and friends on the “chitlin circuit” in a custom bus. B.B.’s record deal afforded new equipment and
guitars—one of which King nicknamed “Lucille,” after the woman who prompted an
incendiary bar fight between two men (who died in the blaze). B.B. couldn’t quite master the slide guitar
technique practiced by his heroes, but his efforts lent his notes a distinct
twang. That trebly vibrato would define
B.B.’s sound, and the cast of rockers appearing in the film repeatedly swear
they can identify B.B. after hearing “just one note.”
As the ‘50s give way to
the ‘60s, B.B. is nearly killed in a Birmingham hotel bombing meant for Dr.
Martin Luther King. His band often eats
boxed lunches on the bus because they’re not allowed inside most restaurants. One failed marriage gives way to the next,
with King making a tour stop in Detroit so Reverend Franklin (Aretha’s father)
could officiate (then, on to Cleveland!).
In hindsight, B.B. recognizes women—the “angels of the Earth”—as his
kryptonite:
“I’ve been called a
womanizer and other things,” he reflects.
“I guess most of it is true.”
Unable to fork up the
$25,000 needed to keep the burgeoning star on his label, entrepreneur Joe
Bihari loses B.B. to ABC Paramount, where he tracks his first successful albums. Before long, young white boys across the pond
are singing the praises of the guys who inspired B.B.—bluesmen like Muddy
Waters and Howlin’ Wolf—and reinterpret their 12-bar brilliance in an amplified
rock context.
“Freddie King inspired
Eric Clapton, Albert King inspired Mick Taylor, and B.B. King inspired Peter
Green,” says Bluesbreakers founder John Mayall.
Receiving an unexpected
push from the likes of The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Cream, Jimi Hendrix,
and Led Zeppelin, B.B. and his black contemporaries are suddenly able to play
in swanky venues for predominantly white audiences. Rolling Stones bassist Bill Wyman recounts
telling a U.S. taxi driver to take the band into “bad” neighborhoods just so
they could snatch up the blues records they’d been missing out on back home.
Sensing magic in the
air, producer Bill Szymczyk convinced B.B. to record a couple albums with a
studio band, and then took the unprecedented step of adding orchestral strings
on the finished product. “The Thrill Is
Gone” thrust B.B. squarely into the mainstream—and he’s been touring even
since.
The film leapfrogs
through the ‘70s, ‘80s, and ‘90s, glossing over highlights like London sessions
(with Ringo Starr and Joe Sample) and a tour with U2 (behind their “When Love
Comes to Town” collaboration) simply because there’s too much ground for Brewer
(or anyone) to cover in a single film.
Irish superstar Bono confesses he felt “like a girl” singing alongside
beefy B.B., and that the more U2 tried emulating the bluesman, the less convincing
they were.
The bevvy of notable
commentators includes Joe Walsh, Carlos Santana, Peter Green, Walter Trout,
Bonnie Raitt, Derek Trucks, Susan Tedeschi, Jonny Lang, George Benson, Buddy
Guy, John Mayer, Joe Bonamassa, Johnny Winter, Bruce Wilis (!?), Keith
Richards, Mick Taylor, and Eric Clapton—with whom B.B. recorded in 2000. We check in on major concert events and
special appearances at Royal Albert Hall and The White House, watch as B.B.
gifts a guitar to the Holy Pontiff, and tag along for an annual “homecoming” at
Indianola, Mississippi, where The B.B. King Museum now stands. We get the business end from managers and
accountants, but the heart and soul of the film derives from talk of B.B.’s
nine-decade journey, from shanty digs and a broken bicycle to silk suits and
global recognition—Rock and Roll Hall of Fame honors, and multiple Grammy
nods.
The vicarious lessons
and total immersion into the man behind the music make LIFE OF RILEY a must-see documentary for all blues aficionados and
self-respecting rock connoisseurs.
3 out of 4 stars.
View the LIFE OF RILEY trailer here:
No comments:
Post a Comment
We approve all legitimate comments. However, comments that include links to irrelevant commercial websites and/or websites dealing with illegal or inappropriate content will be marked as spam.
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.