Time has come for the great to be all the greater. For durable songs like “I’m Gonna Move To The Outskirts of Town” and the vastly younger “Texas Flood” to be played into dust. For the implied license to jam to have its limits tested. And for those two poor guitars to take even more of a licking.
Big news: In Session—codename for that fabled day in 1983 when Albert King combined atomic forces with Stevie Ray Vaughan—just expanded to its sonic fullest. For the first time since its release to critical acclaim and instant fandom in 1999, the historic memento is now available in its entirety with the complete setlist restored to the original flow. Which means that epically overflowing “Texas Flood” not only reunites with the whole bunch but also freely and naturally bleeds straight into the smoldering-then-blazing “Call It Stormy Monday.” Alone, that 30-minute slow-blues sequence near the show’s start speaks to the extent of spontaneous combustion possible. So much more awaits. In all, 16 remastered tracks—two discs’ or three LPs’ worth—sprawl across two glorious hours.
Deluxe Edition, indeed.
Albert King—60; suitcoat, vest, and pipe; Gibson Flying V—is the established guitar god from Mississippi who tore up St. Louis clubs in the 1950s before conquering both coasts by the 1960s via longhaired hallowed ground: San Francisco’s Fillmore Auditorium and New York’s Fillmore East. On the other hand, Stevie Ray Vaughan—29; kimono, broad-brimmed hat, and cowboy boots; Fender Stratocaster—is the rising guitar god from Texas who put Austin on the map after his debut album with Double Trouble, Texas Flood, hit record shops just six months prior to this one-of-a-kind clash of the titans. Those personal individualities certainly kept on funneling down to respective guitar tones that serve as signatures when signing solos: King opting for steel girders versus Vaughan’s high-tension wires. Different personas; different histories; different brands.
But guitar gods nonetheless.
Such was the brilliant experiment to bring them together, supply a shared setlist as if tossing a hunk of red meat into the lions’ cage, cautiously step back to allow plenty of room for what develops, and record every last precious second. Which is exactly what you hear here.
The simple, three-letter word “jam” fails to do justice to the magnitude of the interactive firestorm that broke out—live—on CHCH-TV’s soundstage that early-December day in Ontario, Canada. Both men, perched on stools in a state of relaxed intensity and mutual respect, play hot potato with burning solos, freely passing lead exchanges back and forth, complementing each other with alternating rhythm lines, directing all the traffic through a silent series of glances and nods. The environment breeds easy interplay—not a head-cutting, one-upmanship contest by any means. More of a highly engaging conversation held on guitar between friends. Extremely, extremely talented friends. So, no daggered glares or peacocking smirks; only honest smiles and good-time chuckles. Plus, lots and lots of colossal string bends firing off at a dime a dozen.
In addition to the three-piece rhythm section being King’s touring band at the time, the bulk of the material comes from Albert’s songbook. Gus Thornton’s heavyset basslines clear paths all afternoon long, starting with “Born Under a Bad Sign,” King’s lumbering blues from 1967 that Cream as well as Hendrix swiftly appropriated within two years’ time. If “Ask Me No Questions” serves as the soulster galloping atop Michael Llorens’ thumping drums, then “Don’t Lie to Me” weighs in as the funkster. Conversely, “Blues at Sunrise” extendedly prowls about, baiting out levitating organ chords from Tony Llorens along with a tense bout of Vaughan’s tremolo strumming. But of all the behemoths living here, the age-old anthem to jealousy and infidelity, “I’m Gonna Move to the Outskirts of Town,” still isn’t long enough when repeatedly cycling from pin-drop sulking to disturb-the-neighbors thrashing for 23 minutes. Tremendous. Aside from the upbeat, romping instrumental “Overall Junction,” Albert sings the lot.
Vaughan contributes a pair of his own soon-to-be greatest hits: Texas Flood's aforementioned title track as well as “Pride and Joy,” the all-hear-this single hot off that brand-new record. King actually calls on Stevie for the latter, asking for “that fast thing you’re doin’ … with a heck of a groove to it.” With that, they’re instantly off, Texas shuffling, hard—but with newfound textures not there with the power trio Double Trouble. Namely, Tony’s rippling piano and, of course, Albert’s second guitar. Stevie sings both.
The connective tissue tying together these bouts of fretsmanship is freeform banter. Fly-on-the-wall kind of stuff: Albert passing the torch (“I’m about ready to turn it over to you … that’s true, son”); Stevie candidly beaming (“I remember the first time I met you”); Albert candidly beaming back (“Stevie, I’m telling you, I wouldn’t have missed this for nothing in the world”). More signs of how true the bond was between a guitar hero (Vaughan) and a guitar hero’s own guitar hero (King). But then it’s always right back to the fireworks.
So, bust out your air guitar. And while you’re at it, better grab extra packs of air strings. Because you’re going to burn through them in no time.
Label: Craft/Stax
Release Date: 10/18/24
Artist Website: srvofficial.com
Reviewed by Dennis Rozanski
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