POP MUSIC REVIEW : Johnnie Johnson Moves Front, Center With Style

Though sometimes forgotten after three decades of the electric guitar being the world’s dominant noisemaker, the piano also played a strong role in American blues music. Concurrent with Robert Johnson and other Delta guitarists of the ‘30s, more-citified players developed rich, inventive styles on piano, such as the great, rolling boogie-woogie key pumping of Kansas City’s Pete Johnson.

West Coast pianist Joe Liggins’ “Honeydripper” in the late ‘40s was a million-seller that presaged the sound of rock, and he remained a local delight until his death a few years ago. Other pianists, such as New Orleans’ late great Professor Longhair and James Booker, kept the instrument vital through the years, but generally from the ‘50s on, pianists were slowly relegated to the background.

That’s where Johnnie Johnson has been hidden most of his life. The pianist once led his own trio in East St. Louis, until Chuck Berry joined the band and history beckoned. Johnson became an uncredited accompanist on Berry’s hits, and between Berry’s now-immortal guitar breaks, it was often Johnson’s piano that gave the songs their rockin’ propulsion.

Though he became a legend among other musicians, he continued in the background--either with Berry or in St. Louis clubs--until Keith Richards enlisted him for the 1987 Chuck Berry concert documentary “Hail! Hail! Rock ‘n’ Roll.” Richards subsequently urged him to pursue a solo career.

At the Rhythm Cafe Saturday night Johnson proved entirely worthy of being the center of attention, though he was afforded that opportunity a bit less than one would have liked. On this, his first national tour, instead of being Chuck Berry’s backing musician, Johnson often wound up as backing musician for a middling-fair blues bar band.

On his excellent debut album of last year, “Johnnie B. Bad,” it’s clearly Johnson’s star time, even though his musicians include such names as Richards, Eric Clapton and NRBQ. They lend supportive, sensitive backing to his playing, and show a thorough grounding in Johnson’s style of music.

Johnson’s touring outfit of St. Louis players Steve Walton on guitar, Frank Dunbar on bass and harmonica and Keith Robertson on drums wasn’t bad, but was sorely lacking in nuance and style. Both in content and volume, they tended to play over much of what Johnson was doing, with even his solos sometimes being indistinct in the blare of their instruments. That may partially be attributed to the whim of the sound man, but it mostly was the band’s fault, playing at an excessive volume.

It was also something of a disappointment to see Johnson playing a digital keyboard instead of a real piano. They’re OK for a noisy bar gig, but no way do the digital units sound or respond the way a good piano does, which is what Johnson deserved. Fortunately, he seemed at ease with the keyboard and managed some brilliant playing on it.

After his opening vocal on “Kansas City,” Johnson summed up his singing style to the appreciative but quarter-capacity audience, saying, “I know I can’t sing; I just got a hell of a lot of nerve.” But, though he’s not an especially assertive or remarkable singer, his few laid-back vocal forays did convey a distinct personality, full of warmth and humor.

Johnson--sporting his trademark ship’s captain hat--also didn’t have much to say between songs, aside from a few self-deprecating remarks. But his low-keyed, laconic approach was far preferable to his band members’ bar-brand hucksterisms. It’s nearly a guaranteed thing that when a musician shouts “Do you love the Bloooze?!” he has no idea what he’s talking about.

Much of the show was devoted to Walton- or Dunbar-led blues standards such as “I’m a Hoochie Coochie Man” and the irksome chestnut “Sweet Home Chicago.” They sang and played about as well as one might expect of a slightly better-than-average bar band--meaning that there was little depth, lots of flash and reference points that sounded more like 1969 London than 1955 St. Louis.

And sometimes you could make out a fine Johnson solo, full of rocking whimsy and fat, rolling bass lines. He whirled out a torrid spread of treble tinkles on “Rock Me Baby,” cleverly dropping one of guitarist Magic Sam’s signature riffs into the middle of the solo.

The band managed a surprisingly controlled rendition of Albert King’s minor-key masterpiece “As the Years Go Passing By,” giving Johnson the opportunity for some delicate, expressive soloing that took elastic liberties with the tune’s rhythm. That and a frolicsome run at Duke Ellington’s “Take the A Train” gave Johnson the chance to show his creativity and depth as a player.

The show highlights were two Johnson vocal numbers from his album. “Stepped in What!?” (written by former NRBQ guitarist Steve Ferguson) dealt lightly with one of life’s little setbacks, while “Tanqueray” (by Johnson and Keith Richards) celebrated the convivial virtues of gin. Like Willie Dixon’s classic “Walking the Blues,” Johnson delivered both in a sleepy, loping manner that seemed to hover right at the edge of consciousness. While not the sort of stuff to make a crowd dance on tables, the two numbers did convey a palpable mood, and were the songs audience members had called out for most.

The set ended with two Berry tunes, “Don’t You Lie to Me” and “Johnny B. Goode.” During the latter Johnson was able to really get out from behind the piano: As the band blared on, he walked through the audience, accepting the handshakes of fans he probably never knew he had all these years.