Here we descend into the land of bad blues hyperbole. Born in Magnolia, Arkansas, McCray labels his playing as “blues-rock.” This description of his music comes from his website, larrymccrayband.com: “Understated funk rhythms and crunchy rock riffs meet searing slow blues and booty-bumping shuffles.” Crunchy? Like granola? Generally, I read shit like that and I look for another record to buy.
Shannon follows suit. On his website, prestonshannon.com, he bills himself as “The King of Beale Street” and promises “soul-filled vocals atop burning, venom-tipped guitar chords.” I’m not sure what this means. You mean venom as in the shit that snakes use to kill you? I feel certain I don’t have much need for poison guitar chords. The simple truth is that, with the exception of the International Blues Challenge, if I’m looking to hear music – any kind of music – Beale Street is the one place I’m not going. So there you have it: you’re the king of some place I don’t go.
And we’ve got to wade through all of this bad writing to get to music that either speaks for itself – or doesn’t.
The reality is that McCray is a stunning guitarist and vocalist. I know him from his recording of “All Along the Watchtower” on “All Blues’d Up: Songs of Bob Dylan” (lame title; decent record). Watchtower is a deceptively difficult song to play, especially after Hendrix turned it into a “third-base situation” for everyone else (including Dylan), but McCray pulls it off. What really sold me was his take on “Soulshine.” You can find several versions on YouTube. It’s not blues-rock; it’s not “crunchy.” It’s just blues. And it’s damn good.
I expect Shannon will also deliver the goods. I wouldn’t know him from apple butter because, like I said, I don’t go to Beale, but what I’ve heard of his voice reminds me of Bobby Womack, and that’s a good thing. And I’ll cop to this: loathe the Beale scene as I do, the saying is true – you can fool the drunks most of the time, but you can’t fool the locals for very long.
The bottom line is this: it’s easy for me to dismiss bluesman based on the hyperbole. It’s over the top, it’s cliché, it’s embarrassing, it’s useless. It’s also easy for me to dismiss them because when it comes to blues I tend to be an elitist, self-important Puritan. But I also know what I like. I like searing guitar, and horn sections, and even funky rhythms. For that reason, something inside of me believes that once they take the Helena stage, McCray and Shannon will disassemble my jaded skepticism, bit by bit until I find myself standing on the low side of the road, happy, joyous, and free.
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