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RIP BB King


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I was the Chef of the Holllywood Athletic Club at Universal City Walk right next to BB King's. I'd make sure to take care of the guys at the door so when BB was in town they'd let me in to catch the show. He loved life, music and BBQ. Oh and after his early show he'd come over and shoot pool at The Club. No the thrill is never gone. RIP BB.

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Was listening to the WPYX (106.5 - Albany) morning show and one of the DJs, Quinn, had a great story. He was visiting his grandfather in California, who was a resident/patient at a place that specialized in healthy eating. He didn't call it a "fat farm," but it kind of sounded like it was.

 

They were sitting down, eating lunch, when a man came up to their table and said, "Hello, gentlemen, my name is Mr. BB King. May I sit and have lunch with you?"

 

Quinn's grandfather had no idea who BB King was (he made mention that he was "out of touch" with America - not sure if he was in immigrant, or what, but it's an explanation as to why he wouldn't be familiar with BB KIng).

 

Long story, short, BB King had lunch with them and was totally kind and down to earth (would anyone be shocked by that?). Pretty cool.

 

The next morning, Quinn ended up working out on the treadmill next to BB King and they watched CNBC together and talked stocks. Such a great experience.

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Just saw this post on Facebook from Galadrielle Allman, Duane's daughter, recounting her dad and uncle's first impression of BB.

 

"Then, BB King took the stage, his gleaming guitar high around his neck. His band swung into action, taking off like a train building a rhythm. The perfect, clear tone of his electric guitar rises out above them all. BB sang with his eyes closed and his eyebrows raised in curved surprise, trading verses with his own guitar, singing for him with a voice pure, clean and so cool. His hand, flashing a big gold ring, wrapped around the guitar’s neck and danced there, shivering an...d gliding over the strings, effortless, almost involuntarily. BB rocked from one foot to the other, nodding his head, sweat pouring over his face, punching the notes with precision, the space between each held like a breath. What he doesn’t play is as important as what he does, and the way he makes you wait almost hurts.
Gregg watched Duane staring at BB King’s hands with complete focus and astonishment. Gregg says he could almost see a decision forming on his brother’s face.
He leaned in to Gregg and said, “Bra’, we got to get into this.”

 

--Please Be With Me, A Song for My Father Duane Allman, by Galadrielle Allman

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Some trivia:

 

His "signature sound" on the guitar did not come out of ego, it came out of necessity. He tried to work the bottlenecks and slides the traditional way, but his fingers were so fat that he couldn't make it work. He came up with something to approximate it by wiggling his fingers on the frets (creating a vibrato).

 

He grew up on a cotton plantation, working the fields and playing the guitar in his free time. The white plantation owner taught him how to drive a tractor, and tractor drivers were making 10 times more than the cotton pickers. When World War II broke out, he enlisted in the army and was getting ready to be sent overseas when the army found out he drove a tractor. They immediately discharged him because a tractor driver was considered a civilian occupation that was "vital to the war effort".

 

He played the blues because, growing up in the 1930's, he would stand on the street corner every Saturday afternoon and play gospel songs, and everybody would compliment him but not leave and tips. When people asked for blues songs, he would play them and leave tips.

 

 

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