Man, it had been a l-o-o-o-ong time since I last saw Johnny Winter. I think the last time was at the Spectrum in Philadelphia in the early '70s. He was with Rick Derringer then, during the "Johnny Winter And..." days. So, when I saw he was playing at the Fillmore on Friday and Saturday, 10-11 September, during my visit to the Bay Area, I decided to check him out again. So, I went last night (Friday).
I got to the Fillmore ticket window about 8:30 p.m., bought my $21.50 ticket, and was about to go in when this huge grey and black touring bus rolled up, like it was there to pick me up or something. Several people (roadies, friends, ?) got off and disappeared into the fenced backstage area, but soon reappeared with a big plate of salad covered in plastic wrap and a bowl of fruit, which they took into the bus. The interior bus lights were on, so I positioned myself to look through the front windshield. There he was—tattoos and all—wearing a Richard Petty-like hat over his long white hair, a black sleeveless T-shirt, and blue jeans, slumped over one of the front seats, talking to someone. I only got a glimpse of him for a minute before one of the crew pulled some curtains across the entryway between the driver’s seat and the passenger compartment. But what struck me immediately was how incredibly thin he was. I also noticed how decked out the inside of the bus was. There was a table, a kitchenette, crew bunk beds, and what looked like a sitting area further back. Man, this guy lives in luxury!
I hung around outside a bit longer, hoping to catch another glimpse, and as luck would have it, the curtains were moved aside again. I could see Johnny sitting halfway back in the bus with his white, headless guitar on his lap, running through some warm-up licks. He was turned away from me, so I couldn't see his face or the front of the guitar. Soon, the curtains were drawn again, so I went inside to grab a Sierra Nevada Pale Ale and catch the opening acts.
The first opening act had already started: a singer named Susan Angeletti, who reminded me of Mama Cass (though less rotund). She was good, as was her three-piece backup band. The guitarist played a '57 re-issue Strat through a VOX combo (AC-30?) amp and had great tone and stage presence. He reminded me of Ronald Reagan, Jr. – yes, that’s what Ron Reagan, Jr. might have looked like had he taken up guitar in a rock band instead of dance and journalism. He played with his fingers, like Jeff Beck, although the trem on his Strat was cranked down, and the arm wasn’t installed. It looked like he had a couple of orange DOD or Boss stompboxes on the floor, but I couldn’t tell for sure. Anyway, the band was good. I enjoyed the 20 minutes I watched them play.
Next up was a rockabilly band, fronted by ex-Stray Cat bassist Lee Rocker. These guys smoked and were incredibly entertaining. Lee reminded me of a scaled-down Andrew Dice Clay, all decked out in leather, with slicked-back hair and a cigarette dangling from his lips. (The Fillmore is "supposed" to be non-smoking, as are all public establishments in California, but what the heck!). It was a "battle of the Telecasters" between the two guitarists—one playing through an old Super Reverb, the other through a beige Tolex Deluxe Reverb (re-issue, I guess) with an extension cabinet. Both traded off leads, and both were excellent. The "Deluxe" guy, a big boy who looked like a "Billy Bob" or a "Bubba," had country and rockabilly chops but also cooked on a few blues numbers. His Tele had an autograph: "To Mike from Scotty Moore," with a date I couldn’t make out, written in black marker above the neck pickup. The "Super Reverb" guy also played a Tele, doing nice slide work on what looked like a black Danelectro double-cutaway. He reminded me of a cross between Rory Gallagher, Bruce Springsteen, and Brian Setzer. Meanwhile, Lee Rocker himself played an upright bass with a large, triangular "DANGEROUS" sticker on the back and did most of the singing. These guys smoked through a 45-minute set and really got the house rockin’. I wish I knew who that Bubba-Tele player was.
Then came Johnny.
Now, this is where it gets tough for me because I need to be charitable out of respect for Johnny Winter and his contribution to music. The man is an institution in rock and roll, and maybe that’s part of the issue. I’ve copped more licks from Johnny’s playing than I care to admit. Anyway, when Johnny appeared, walking up the steps to the stage, he was being helped by his bandmates, the drummer and bassist. He wore the same outfit I described earlier, and his white Laser guitar was strapped around his neck. He didn’t really walk; he shuffled across the stage as if his legs couldn’t move. And once he stopped, he constantly rocked back and forth, shifting his weight from one foot to the other in a steady, never-ending motion that lasted the entire night—like if he stopped, he’d fall over. He was so skinny. His jeans just hung on his frail frame. He looked like he was 80 years old, though damn proud of it, and his arms looked so thin, almost feminine.
He plugged into one of his pristine MusicMan 410-HD amps through a Boss Blues Driver (the only external effect he used) and started into "Hideaway." Yes! That was Johnny Winter’s tone and licks coming out of those speakers. But was it really Johnny playing? With my eyes closed, I could picture Johnny stalking the stage as he used to, long and lanky with that white hair flying around and the Firebird thrashing all over. But when I opened my eyes, there stood a puppet-like Johnny Winter, shifting side to side out of sync with the music, eyes constantly squinted shut (though that might be due to his albinism and the bright lights). I was about 10 feet back from the stage, slightly left of center, and I could clearly see he was playing, but it was surreal to see him in such a state.
As the set progressed, he dragged out some of his old standards—like "Got My Mojo Workin'," "Boogie Real Slow (With the Lights Down Low)," and "Johnny Guitar"—into extended jams, repeating many of his trademark licks. He played about 10 songs during the 1-hour set, and the crowd loved it. I mean, it’s Johnny Winter up there! If he can’t jump around like in the "Jumpin’ Jack Flash" days because of arthritis or whatever, who cares?! If he were rolled out in a wheelchair, the crowd would have gone just as wild. His vocals were frail and muffled, barely audible, but if Johnny had shuffled on stage, whispered a "YEAH" into the mic, and hit one note, the crowd would have gone nuts.
Halfway through the set, he pulled out that old brown reverse-headstock Firebird from behind the amps and ripped off some great slide work, which sent the crowd into a frenzy. Then he went back to the Laser.
It was clear Johnny had a great time playing, even though he physically couldn’t show it except for the smile on his face. The crowd loved him, too. One guy in front of me complained about the performance, and another told him if he didn’t like it, he should get the f*** out.
Did I enjoy it? Well, it was cool to see Johnny still able to command an audience like he does. His tone was killer, and watching those fragile fingers walk (but not run) over the fretboard and rip off some great blues licks was great. I picked up a few things, but it was clear Johnny was playing what he’s been playing every day for the past 30 or 40 years—nothing more and, honestly, quite a bit less. No improvisation, just tried-and-true blues licks that have stood the test of time.
Johnny Winter. God love him.
