Blues Festival Delivers the Fearsome Truth, with Beer

While "blues festivals" are almost as generous in the boundaries of their music as "jazz" festivals are -- Boz Scaggs has probably played both types, without a change in his set list -- what Bill Bowker presented at in Petaluma was the real deal. The was everything it set out to be, a good old beery blues afternoon or two in the balmy California summer.

It's a fair bet to say that until this event was publicized, the number of locals who had heard of Lightnin' Malcolm or Watermelon Slim numbered in the low dozens. John Beck's profile of Watermelon Slim in last week's PD did a lot to pique interest, as did the constant promotion on KRSH-FM for the show, and just possibly other publicity like this blog in Patch.

But watching these men at work was a joy, and a reminder of how good real blues can be -- if not altogether an introduction to its essence for many Sonomans and Mariners. If there were four walls, it would have been a juke joint or a stop on the Chitlin' Circuit. But it was the miniamphitheaterette at a trendy craft brewery in Petaluma, which makes it all our own kind of blues.

Watermelon Slim was entertainer from boots to toothless grin, using his metal slide and laptop guitar to brittle effect. His wordy, witty, rambling songs took the long way around the blues. He truck-driving blues man sang one song from the seat of a big rig, its gears giving the song cadence. He played a couple tunes with an old harmonica buddy whom he purportedly had not seen for 40 years, and got Lightnin' Malcolm on stage to trade savage licks as well. But he remained the guy you couldn't keep your eyes off, an authentic in the raw.

Malcolm's usual drummer is either Cameron Kimbrough or Cedric Burnside, both of whose lineage reaches deeps into the Mississippi Hill Country. J.J. Hudson was on skins this trip, and the dusty, driving beat was solid enough to provide the rails for Malcolm's Telecaster slide. There were no keyboards on stage, no bass guitar or back-up singers: just a hill country blues duo owning the crowd.

Malcolm, a big man who looks like the truck driver Watermelon Slim might have been 40 years ago, invited Sonoma County's own blues legend to the stage for a driving highlight set. , gracious and calm, added some Chicago blues resonance to the music, but that hill country drive remained in high gear.

Where is the Hill Country? East of Clarksdale, east of Cohoama County, up around Holly Springs - and Tupelo, where Elvis Presley was born. Mississippi Fred Macdowell repopularized the style (he of the famous "I do not play no rock and roll" quote), though its roots sound pre-melodic, almost tribal.

What does it sound like? Well, if you missed the concert, you could refer to W.C. Handy describing a 1905 performance by a local trio, who took over the stage at one of his rural concerts: “They struck up one of those over and over strains that seem to have no beginning and certainly no ending at all. The strumming attained a disturbing monotony, but on and on it went. . . Thump-thump-thump went their feet on the floor. It was not really annoying or unpleasant. Perhaps 'haunting' is the better word."

Sometimes the best music is the kind that shakes you up, that puts a little fear in your future. "The first music I heard that really scared me was Howlin' Wolf, doing 'Evil'," Bill Bowker told me last week.  The fact that it still does, and still can, is what keeps the blues alive.