Review: B.B. King was in a chatty mood

In Victoria, the world’s greatest living bluesman didn’t exactly let his guitar do the talking.Thursday night, B.B. King chatted and reminisced at least as much as he played the shiny black instrument he calls Lucille. Even the King was aware he was in a garrulous mood.“I can see the papers tomorrow,” he said. “B.B. talked all night.”Still, a fair dollop of music slipped out as well. Holding court in front of 2,900 adoring fans, King wrapped up his two-hour show with the 1969 classic The Thrill is Gone. The concert  capped with the bluesman tossing out gold chains (well, they looked gold) to the crowd.B.B. played the entire show from his chair. Still, the grand old fellow’s 81 now — there’s likely few who’d grumble.Besides, he’s an animated performer: Pummelling his hand into his palm, pulling faces, even defiantly shaking his fist into the air.

The essentials of his music remain. When he wants to, King can summon up that resplendent vocal roar. And his guitar sound is still there: A big, round velvety sound, oodles of sustain and notes bent in a way that suggests the singing voice.These days, B.B.’s show is as much a tribute to B.B. the Legend as anything else. He often plays snippets of songs -- perhaps a verse and a chorus -- rather than the entire tune. And talk? It’s hard to hold him back.His eight-piece band played a couple of introductory instrumentals. Then King, making his entrance, seemed charmed by two little girls in the front row.He tossed them a few guitar picks, then later smilingly declared: “This is a kiss for both of you. Isn’t that nice, aren’t they wonderful?”His longest rap occurred mid-set. First King talked about how beautiful and smart the ladies are. Then he joked about his age: “Things grow on ya. Sometimes things fall off ya!” Then he spoke about having his cataracts removed, his mule Big Ben, the joys of Viagra and playing craps in the cotton fields.It was all rather engaging. Some of King’s stories were telling, such as his early recollections about yearning to drink “white water” -- water from the fountain reserved for white folk.“Today,” he said, “we can laugh about it.” The tale flavoured his next song, Blues Man, containing the line: “I’m a blues man but a good man -- understand?”The song U2 wrote for him, When Love Comes to Town, reconstituted as a chugging upbeat boogie, was almost unrecognizable. How Blue Can You Get — an archetypal blues ballad about an evil woman — sounded a tad perfunctory, as did Everybody Wants to Know Why I Sing the Blues. And while it was fun to sing along with You Are My Sunshine mid-show (“This one’s just for the ladies,” said B.B.), it seemed more like campfire frolics than an electrifying blues performance.Still, if anyone has earned the right to just plain enjoy himself, it’s B.B. King. For me, the most significant moment came during Key to the Highway. The song’s protagonist is a man who stops roaming ... just like King, who’s spent the last 60 years of his life touring almost constantly.“I’m gonna do this ’til I die folks,” he muttered.  I hope he does.