Do they still play the Blues in Chicago? - Part 1

There are two Chicago nightlife experiences I felt compelled to seek out. Unfortunately, now travelling on Bambi time, I only had one night in which to organise and enjoy both of them. Even more unfortunately it was a Monday night. I grabbed a local free entertainment newspaper, used my phone a friend option to have Marcus Google a few possibilities on my behalf and tried to assemble my one glittering, rainy, Monday night in Chicago.

The first thing I discovered is that Crowded House had performed in Chicago two nights previously. So close, and yet so infinitely far away. I wasted several minutes swearing at no-one in particular before I regained my focus.

I wanted to experience some improvisational theatre, specifically modern improv comedy, which has a rich history in Chicago. Sure, I have experienced theatre sports in Sydney and elsewhere, but surely it must be magically different and better in Viola Spolin's hometown. Of course, Monday evenings are not the improv comic's peak night. Of the two shows that were available, one was sold out and the other started quite early - too early to fit in dinner and deliver Dad and Patricia to the hotel for an early night before their flight back to Fresno. I painfully deleted Chicago improv from my things-I-did-before-I-died list.

I also wanted to hear some authentic Chicago Blues. This option offered some Monday night alternatives. I narrowed it down to a shortlist of two and made a decision based exclusively on convenient starting time.

It was thus that I arrived at Artis's Lounge at 10:15pm for a performance by Billy Branch and the Sons of Blues scheduled to start at 10:30pm. The venue has plenty of atmosphere - by which I mean that it's tiny, doesn't have a stage and allows smoking. A big cigar-shaped bar fills most of the space, which is a watering hole for the African American local community.

There were only two empty seats at the bar and I chose the wrong one. I sat next to George (not his real name). George was a spectacularly drunk regular who opened our conversation by telling me that he would normally offer to buy me a drink but he's currently broke. He is between jobs right now but describes himself as a Blues Guitarist. It's just a hobby for him, but he's still bitter that the band won't let him jam with them. "They treat me like a sick man in here," he told me. Looking at the reddish yellows of his eyes, it wasn't difficult to imagine why.

I studiously avoided making eye contact with George and checked my watch. It was now 10:45 and there was no sign of the band.

George told me the sad story of his wife's death and explained that he has never looked at another woman since. He then told me that he would move to Australia to make a new life with a woman like me if I would just buy him the ticket. Of course, he also thinks Australia is "the Riverdance country" so he may not have been entirely clear what he was offering to do.

It was now 11 pm. The bar was filling up, but I was about ready to give up and walk out when the world's biggest bass player arrived and started setting up. I waited.

George told me that he has a Cadillac. Then he asked me to drive him home after the show. He offered a free night's accommodation at his house in exchange - "just as friends." Perhaps sensing disinterest he sweetened the offer to include breakfast, provided that I would stop and buy him some food on the way.

It was now 11:15. The bar was packed to the rafters with people casting expectant glances at the front windows (stage). The number of band members setting up had expanded to include the world's oldest drummer and the one of the world's most Asian keyboard players.

George had to go to the restroom. I immediately offered his seat to a really big guy standing nearby on the condition that he not give it back to George under any circumstances. He laughed and took the seat.

At 11:30 they started to play, with the aged drummer on vocals. The offering was pretty much straightforward blues standards, with a bit of showy bass work. Nothing special. Bass, keyboard and drums are a minimalist sort of combo. I was thinking about my early start in the morning and finishing my glass of water.

It was now 11:45. Billy Branch arrived with his harmonica (harp) and gravelly vocals. So did the world's whitest guitarist. They joined the band and I decided to stay. I also decided to buy a CD. The music was fantastic and the band were happy to get into a friendly chat on their break. Billy's wife told me about his Blues in the Schools program, doing outreach with disadvantaged children. Cool and kind. What a winning combination!

In retrospect, I'm glad the experience unfolded as it did. It was a wonderful opportunity to experience a miniature version of the fireworks that went off in Blues circles when harmonica players started cupping their hands around the instrument, moving closer to their microphones and playing like a horn section.