The 500 - #142 - Live At The Regal - B.B. King

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by New York-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time.

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Album: #142
Album Title: Live At The Regal
Artist: B.B. King
Genre: Blues
Recorded: November 21, 1964
Released: 1965
My age at release: Not Born
How familiar was I with it before this week: A couple songs
Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #299, dropping 147 spots
Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Worry, Worry

In the summer of 2004 my soon-to-be-wife and I made our first of many pilgrimages to New York City, a place that had loomed large in our imaginations thanks to decades of movies, sitcoms, and late-night talk shows. It was a city we felt we already knew, even though we’d never set foot in it. Thankfully, it did not disappoint.

Our week-long visit was a whirlwind of adventure, exploration, and sore feet. We packed our days with iconic experiences: nearly getting sunstroke in the bleachers of Old Yankee Stadium, wandering for hours through the lush pathways of Central Park, crossing the Brooklyn Bridge on foot, attending a taping of Tough Crowd with Colin Quinn and attending several comedy clubs. We were determined to see it all.

But we were rookies…classic tourists making every rookie mistake. We stopped in the middle of busy sidewalks to look up at skyscrapers, snap photos, or consult our trusty paper maps (yes, 2004 was before cell phones for us). In the hustle and bustle of Manhattan, blocking pedestrian traffic is practically a cardinal sin.

New Yorkers, we quickly learned, are a paradox: brusque on the surface, but surprisingly kind when it counts. They’ll happily help you find your way if you look baffled in a subway station, but don’t expect them to slow down too much while doing it. They have places to be. Now, after nearly ten visits to the city, we move through the streets like locals. We know which subway lines to take, where to grab a decent slice, and how to cross a street safely. And yes, we now find ourselves getting quietly frustrated by the wide-eyed newbies impeding the flow of pedestrians.

During that same trip, we experienced another first: a Broadway play. With so many dazzling options to choose from, we decided to go off the beaten path and see After The Fall, one of Arthur Miller’s lesser-known works which was playing at the American Airlines Theatre. Our choice was driven by the casting because Peter Krause, whom we adored from our favourite television series at the time, Six Feet Under, was playing the lead. Seeing him live on stage was surreal and unforgettable.

Before the show we made another classic rookie mistake – we grabbed drinks at a restaurant in Times Square. Don’t get me wrong, Times Square is a must-see. The light show alone is a sensory overload, and the energy of the crowds can electrify even the most cynical, jet-lagged traveller. But it’s also a tourist trap in the truest sense. Food, drinks and souvenirs are often double the price compared with spots just a few blocks away.

Before the curtain rose, we decided to grab a couple of beers at the venue next door to the theatre—Lucille’s Grille, part of B.B. King’s Blues Club. For me, it was more than just a convenient spot for a pre-show drink. In my early twenties, I went through a full-blown blues phase, diving deep into the genre’s raw-emotional storytelling. Naturally, I became a fan of B.B. King, often dubbed “The Undisputed King of the Blues”.

I also knew the story behind his beloved Gibson guitar, famously named Lucille. It wasn’t just an instrument, it was a symbol. After rescuing his guitar from a burning dance hall during a fight over a woman named Lucille, he gave his hollow bodied ES-355 axe the same name. It was supposed to serve as a reminder never to risk his life for something so reckless again.

As we settled into a “standing room space” in the packed Lucille’s Grille, I couldn’t resist sharing this bit of trivia with my ever-patient lady. She humoured me, as always. After 20 years together, she had learned that being a storyteller and factoid fanatic are part of my molecular structure and we quickly made our drink order to toast our first Broadway adventure.

Back home in Ontario, a pint of good lager would run about $4.00, so I confidently handed our waitress a crisp $20 U. S. bill, expecting change and maybe a smile. Instead, she leaned in close and said, with the kind of gentle pity reserved for wide-eyed tourists, “That’s $21.” I blinked. “Of course,” trying to mask my surprise with a casual shrug. I fished out another five and added, “Keep the change,” hoping the tip would smooth over my embarrassment and restore a shred of dignity.

Live at the Regal is King’s landmark live album, recorded on November 21, 1964, at the Regal Theater in Chicago and released in 1965. Often cited as one of the greatest live blues recordings of all time, the album captures King at the height of his powers, blending soulful vocals with his signature guitar style on his beloved Lucille.

The songs are terrific, but it is the audience’s interaction with King's charismatic stage presence that make the recording feel intimate and electric. The album has influenced countless guitarists, including Eric Clapton, Carlos Santana.

Clapton and King.

Despite its raw sound, the album was meticulously arranged. King often rehearsed his band to perfection before live shows. Live at the Regal is the second of two King records on this list. The first, Live at Cook County Jail, appears at #499 on The 500 and I wrote about it back in January, 2019. It, like this week’s album, was recorded near Chicago, Illinois. The Regal was one of the premier locations for black artists to perform on the Chitlin' Circuit. The others included The Howard Club in Washington and The Apollo in Harlem, New York.

B.B. King remains one of the greats in blues music. He can convey heartbreak, joy, longing and resilience in just a few notes on Lucille. His voice is equal parts velvet and gravel, capturing the ache and the soul of surviving hard times.

However, given the price of cocktails and food at his New York establishment, which remained open until 2020, five years after his death, I am not sure how he justified singing the blues. Unless he wanted to complain about having trouble spending all his money.