By Nick Reiher

Tammy and I recently had the opportunity to hear Eric Clapton, Jimmy Page, Keith Richards, Jeff Beck and John Mayer.

This amazing experience was courtesy of Mr. Buddy Guy, a Chicago Blues legend who influenced those artists, who are pretty amazing themselves.

Reportedly, Clapton once called Buddy Guy the best guitar player alive. In 2023, Rolling Stone had him 27^th on its list of the 100 greatest guitarists of all time.

When I saw he would be appearing at the Rialto a Saturday night in late June, well, I just had to sign us up.

The Jewel of Joliet was getting pretty crowded when Tammy and I took our seats. As we waited for the show to start, I was reminded of a similarly historic concert we experienced on our honeymoon in New Orleans 37 years earlier.

There was so much we wanted to see, do and eat in the relatively few days in NOLA. But one thing I wanted to experience was a set at Preservation Hall. (Thankfully, we did this before splitting a Hurricane at Pat O’Brien’s. Or I imagine it would have been like watching “Fantasia” on acid).

We waited in line until it began to move into what appeared to be an old garage with a dimly lit stage upfront. As we got to the door, the usher said they were out of seats. Would we mind sitting upfront by the stage?

Uh, no.

Close up, we got to hear, and see, some well-seasoned musicians playing jazz so smooth, it crept into your soul. As an added bonus, the trombonist emptied his spit valve just a few feet from us.

So very cool, even though it was condensation; not really spit.

The set lasted about a half hour, but the memory lasted until this day, including the evening we were waiting for Buddy Guy to enter a stage with much different, but no less historic, ambiance.

First, we were treated to a long set by Ronnie Baker Brooks, a longtime friend of Buddy’s family, and a magical Blues artist in his own right. As I listened to the music, I watched his fingers glide across the guitar, making sounds that came from his heart and soul.

After a break, it was time for Buddy. He and his guitar were decked out in his traditional polka dot pattern. (A tribute to his late Mom. You can look it up).

For the next hour or so, we were treated to music culled from more than 80 years of life that began on a farm in Louisiana, absorbed the highs and lows of the Blues scene in Chicago and went from “Just Makin’ Noise,” as one record official scoffed, to one of the most important artists of his, and our, generation.

He shared some of that musical history with the jammed Rialto auditorium. His fingering was amazing, more so because it was a nearly 89-year-old man doing it. His voice was strong as it elicited musical stories of ages ago.

In between, he was telling stories of his life, or about those songs. Sometimes, using words that had the crowd roaring at the ribald throwaway lines, all with that wonderful smile.

As he often does, Buddy played his guitar, walking up one long aisle and down the other. At one point, he was about 5 inches away from Tammy. We were too entranced to get a picture or video.

But we got memories. Lots and lots.

Nick Reiher is editor of Farmers Weekly Review.