Returning from a five-mile walk, I saw Keb’ Mo’ exiting the Mariott Couryard, next door to my home at Westlake. Told him I was a fan: own a Cd, listen on Pandora, saw him in Montreal with Bonny Raitt (cost a fortune and we sat in the upper stratosphere) and then again in Burlington (Row M, orchestra). He played the Flynn on Sunday to a packed house. Listening to him sing about life, love and individuality, made everyone happy.
I asked if he loved his wife as much as he said during riffs between songs. “She’s my whole life. Couldn’t live without her. Only married for seven years, but feel it has been much longer.” He’s as gloriously handsome in person as he is on the stage. Being away from her must be tough.
He rejected my offer to go upstairs to my studio for a portrait. Wondering if he rejected me, because I only had a point and shoot, I told him I was a photographer, after having been a lawyer for over thirty-years. He shared a story about a person he had me who had recently be granted tenure at some institution of learning: “… the guy will spend his whole life in a box and never get out to feel the world.” His comment was just like the themes of his songs, words with a steady blues beat that make you want to do more with who your are and what you have.
But, being me, as we parted, I had to offer constructive criticism. I suggested to him that bass player was great, but the drummer could have done more than just play rhythm.” “That’s the way we do it,” he said. “I like the blues, dude, but I am a jazz guy,”I said. “Drummers can do melody too.”
