POP MUSIC REVIEW : Blues ’91 Festival Rewards Die-hard Fans

If nothing else, the daylong Benson & Hedges Blues ’91 show on Saturday at the Pacific Amphitheatre in Costa Mesa testified that the appeal of the blues is grounded in something deeper than the allure of star power.

Last year, a compelling lineup of Stevie Ray Vaughan, B. B. King, Joe Cocker, John Lee Hooker, Irma Thomas and Dr. John filled the amphitheater. This year, King topped a card of acts that otherwise would normally play clubs in Orange County. Even so, the festival drew a surprisingly strong turnout of about 15,000 people.

Blues fans, evidently, are not finicky. Promise them a 7-hour smorgasbord of strong performers--even if they aren’t arena draws--and they’ll turn out en masse. For the most part, the lineup rewarded their loyalty.

The marquee event, however, was disappointing. The pairing of Gregg Allman with B. B. King and band lasted only three songs (stretched out to 24 minutes), and King admitted they were done impromptu. Even if schedules didn’t allow for rehearsal, some advance planning would have been advisable.

Playing piano rather than the available organ, Allman didn’t venture beyond basic chords and sparse fills; on organ, his primary instrument, he likely would have dared more. Allman’s vocals were impassioned and unimpeachable as usual as he sang standards (“Rock Me Baby” and “Stormy Monday”) and an original slow blues about the anguish of living with an alcoholic. King tried to generate some guitar interaction with Allman’s voice and piano, but struck only fleeting sparks.

Johnny Winter could have used some of King’s lively and enlivening style. Big on speed and flash, the Texas guitar veteran played a proficient but emotionally vacant set.

Etta James’ playfully vulgar performance put the lie to the contemporary notion that a female singer has to look like Madonna, Janet Jackson or Paula Abdul to communicate sexiness. Sometimes the amply built singer oversold the hot, fanny-shaking stuff, but there was no questioning her vitality on such lustful numbers as “Breakin’ Up Somebody’s Home” and a rascally version of Randy Newman’s “You Can Leave Your Hat On.” Extracurricular activities aside, James’ voice was a commanding force pushed by a superbly funky nine-man band.

Willie Dixon couldn’t join his “Dream Band” as planned (bandleader Cash McCall announced that Dixon was hospitalized in Burbank, but is expected back on his feet soon). Dixon’s songs were with them, though, and that is enough to breathe promise into any blues set. The Dream Band--guitarists McCall and Joe Louis Walker, pianist Mose Allison, harmonica player Carey Bell Harrington, bassist Rob Wasserman and drummer Al Duncan--delivered in full. Allison and Harrington provided the most memorable moments of a fine round-robin tribute.