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This concert review, written by Pablo Pernot, captures Johnny Winter’s performance at the Théâtre de la Mer in Sète on 22 July 2002. Despite the anticipation of the crowd, the evening begins with a lackluster set from progressive rock band Wishbone Ash, which fails to impress the author. The focus shifts dramatically once Johnny Winter takes the stage—carried by roadies due to his declining physical condition, marked by trembling and a hunched posture. Although Winter’s frailty is evident, the authenticity of his music and passion for the blues shines through, even as he struggles with timing and occasionally passes vocal duties to his bandmates. The review paints a vivid picture of a legendary musician battling his limitations to deliver an unforgettable, albeit bittersweet, performance.
Tonight, the Théâtre de la Mer is packed to the brim—Johnny Winter is playing. But first, there's the obstacle of Wishbone Ash...
Wishbone Ash is "old progressive rock," a clash across time. As a result, the music feels bland, empty, and uninteresting. Yet, the crowd keeps asking for more. Damn. We pass the time as best we can, and then the moment arrives.
The roadies get busy preparing the stage:
- A red chair for Johnny Winter, with two Fender amps on the left,
- A beautiful Pearl drum kit in the back,
- Two large SW amps for the bassist on the right,
- Finally, a small Fender(?) for the harmonica player in the middle.
The crowd shouts his name, and Johnny Winter arrives on stage... carried by three roadies .
Everyone is left speechless, stunned, and bewildered. What has become of our bluesman? Is this Pope John Paul II arriving on stage, or a completely decayed Johnny Winter? His right leg keeps trembling (Parkinson’s?), and he’s hunched over, bent in half. He wears a beard and his usual big hat, covering half of his face (though we can still guess his dazed expression).
He starts into the first song (I can’t recall the playlist, but it’s very close to NYC97: Sen-Sha-Sun , Mojo , Johnny Guitar , a nod to Fast Life Rider , Black Cat , She’s Like the Boogie , etc.).
The sound is good, but physically, our friend can no longer keep the pace or avoid missing certain cues (he sings every other song, with the harmonica player or drummer taking over to let him catch his breath).
But in the end, it doesn’t matter because this is truly an authentic hero , struggling to play his music. I wanted the blues, and I got it. Johnny Winter could have died on stage tonight, and I wouldn’t have been surprised.
My only regret was the circus act with the obligatory slide guitar number. Pablo Pernot
Ce soir, le Théâtre de la Mer est plein à craquer, Johnny Winter joue. Mais d'abord, il y a l'obstacle Wishbone Ash... Wishbone Ash, c'est du "rock progressif ancien", un clash dans l'espace-temps. Du coup, la musique est insipide, vide, sans aucun intérêt. Pourtant, les gens en redemandent. Merde. On fait passer le temps comme on peut et puis vient le moment.
Les roadies se chargent de préparer la scène : une chaise rouge pour Johnny Winter, avec deux amplis Fender (à gauche), une belle batterie Pearl (derrière), deux gros SW pour le bassiste (à droite), enfin, un petit Fender (?) pour l'harmoniciste (au milieu). La foule crie son nom et Johnny Winter arrive sur scène... porté par trois roadies. Tout le monde reste bouche bée, interloqué, éberlué. Qu'est-ce qu'est devenu notre bluesman ? Est-ce Jean-Paul II qui arrive ici sur scène ou Johnny Winter complètement décati ? Sa jambe droite ne cesse de trembler (Parkinson ?), il est courbé, plié en deux. Il porte la barbe et son habituel gros chapeau qui voile la moitié de son regard (que l'on devine cependant hagard).
Le voilà qui se lance dans la première chanson (impossible de me souvenir de la playlist mais en gros, c'est très proche de NYC97 : "Sen-Sha-Sun", "Mojo", "Johnny Guitar", une allusion à "Fast Life Rider", "Black Cat", "She's Like the Boogie", etc.). Le son est bon, mais le physique de notre ami ne lui permet plus ni de tenir le rythme ni de ne pas se louper sur certains plans. Il chante une chanson sur deux, l'harmoniciste ou le batteur reprenant le chant pour le laisser respirer. Mais ce n'est pas grave finalement, car c'est bien un authentique héros qui est là, à s'arracher pour jouer sa musique.
Je voulais du blues, j'en ai eu. Johnny Winter pouvait mourir sur scène ce soir, cela ne m'aurait pas surpris. Un seul regret : le numéro de cirque avec le passage obligé par un morceau de slide.
Pablo Pernot