Johnny Winter: A Night of Blues Magic in Amsterdam's Paradiso

-

Johnny Winter brought magic to a capacity crowd in Amsterdam's Paradiso last night. Though I was familiar with his recordings, I had never actually seen him live before. You can’t consider yourself a serious fan of Muddy Waters without encountering Johnny Winter. (However, it’s grossly unfair to suggest that he is, or ever was, "just a sideman to Muddy.")

For a long time, rumours have circulated about his declining health—some claiming he’s merely a "shadow of his former self." I once saw a giant and personal hero give an embarrassingly bad performance in what turned out to be one of his last. Once was enough. I didn’t want my first time seeing Johnny Winter to also be my last, fearing he might have become a has-been. Frankly, my expectations were filled with doubts and fears. I had heard from friends who had seen him before—though not recently, as he doesn't tour Europe "every other week"—that a typical Johnny Winter show was short: "45, maybe 50 minutes, with 3 or 4 numbers that go on forever, and that’s it."

When he came onto the stage at exactly 10:00 p.m., he appeared as I expected: frail and thin, and it seemed he had lost much of his sight. But albinism is not kind, and Johnny Winter, apparently, hasn’t been overly kind to himself either. It may come as no surprise that he no longer looks "in the prime of life."

The applause was huge as he was helped to the microphone and started to play. My first reaction? This is an artist who still has a rare talent. It just flowed from his fingers—you could tell immediately there was a masterly quality in the ease with which he played. Sure, there were a few minor mistakes here and there in the first few numbers as he settled in, but who could expect otherwise? Within minutes, I realised my fears about his failing ability were unfounded. He may be past his prime (though I can’t say for sure), but even if that’s the case, he’s still a master—a class act.

When he switched guitars to play slide, I was in blues heaven. Johnny Winter is blues to the bone, and he demonstrated that last night. I only wish he had played some acoustic... but you can’t have everything. His voice, I must admit, isn’t what it used to be, but the sound quality wasn’t great last night anyway. He spoke to the crowd a few times, but I couldn’t catch what he said. Regardless, he seemed to be in good spirits and enjoying himself, which was heart-warming.

Johnny Winter is not a stomping, prancing, jump-around-the-stage artist—perhaps he once was, but if so, his health no longer permits it. Despite his sedentary presence, he brought magic and surprising energy to a delighted crowd. After one encore, he waved as he left the stage. I was treated to 75 minutes of Johnny Winter—a living blues legend.

Despite concerns about his health, which cannot be dismissed, I left with a sense of hope that I might have the pleasure of seeing him again. I certainly hope so. If you ever get the chance, as they say: "Run, don’t walk."

On a live album with Muddy Waters, Johnny Winter gives credit to Muddy by hollering something like, "Yaaaaaah, that’s the man… the man’s the best!" That just about sums up how I felt about last night’s memorable performance by a great artist. The show was, of course, sold out. As for me? I was just sold.

Regards,

Peter Gallagher, Amsterdam

My friends and I decided to meet at a pub for a drink before the show. As I walked past Paradiso about an hour before the concert, I happened to see a tour bus arrive. Shortly after, a thin figure, bent over and wearing a straw hat atop his long white hair, carefully stepped out of the bus. It immediately became clear that this man was in the late autumn of his life.

Supported by one of his roadies, the legendary Johnny Winter very slowly shuffled towards the side entrance of the club.

I had never seen Johnny Winter play live before. My first encounter with this blues legend was in the late seventies when a Rockpalast concert in Germany was broadcast live on television. I still have a half-hour audio recording of that concert, which I play regularly and treasure. In 1986, I started the Mean Town Blues Band, and Winter became a great source of inspiration for us. We covered songs from 3rd Degree and Guitar Slinger. Around 1990, the Mean Town Blues Band performed as a support act for Johnny, also at Paradiso. Unfortunately, I had just left the band and was living abroad. For those who played then, it remains an unforgettable experience.

Johnny began playing at exactly 22:00. It only took a few bars of "Hide Away" to realize he was struggling to keep pace with his rhythm section. His speed was gone, and he limited his solos to simpler licks, though they were still quite effective. Throughout the concert, he shifted his weight from one leg to the other—this was about the only movement he made, aside from his hand gliding up and down the neck of his guitar.

To their credit, the 1,500 people present treated the guitar hero with great respect. Paradiso's audience is notoriously critical, and American bands often struggle here. I noticed that many local pop musicians were in attendance. The crowd applauded heavily after each song.

Johnny made some noticeable mistakes during the song transitions, but his bass player and drummer quickly covered for him so well that non-musicians probably didn’t notice at all. There were a few moments when some of his old vigor resurfaced, especially when he played slide guitar. His singing, however, was quite soft. Having played at Paradiso five or six times myself, I know the sound on stage is often poor, so considering the circumstances, Johnny did reasonably well.

An interesting detail: both Johnny and the bass player each had two identical amplifiers and speaker boxes, though only one set was in use. In case one amp broke down, they could immediately switch to the other.

After a 45-minute performance, there was one encore. Johnny had so much difficulty walking that he didn’t leave the stage but simply moved to its side, pausing for about three minutes before performing just one final song. During this last number, he surprised the audience with a sudden, swift 180-degree turn.

My friends and I were glad we hadn’t missed this concert. Although the contrast with the guitar virtuoso of the '70s and '80s was stark, it was still a great experience to see this living legend perform. It may be difficult to accept, especially for his more loyal fans, but everyone gets old eventually.

Marc Crolla, Amsterdam