Williams Shows He Isn’t Your Average Joe

“They call me a blues singer. I don’t care what they call me as long as I can do it.”

So pronounced Joe Williams midway through his show Saturday night at the Irvine Barclay Theatre, a 20-song concert so splendid, so marked by consummate musicality, that one had to wonder if any type of tune is beyond his reach.

Sublimely accompanied by Norman Simmons on piano, John Clayton on bass and Sherman Ferguson on drums, Williams concentrated on his three favorite grooves: blues (in any number of moods); slow, evocative songs of the heart, and mid-to-up-tempo pop standards. With an elastic tenor-baritone that seems to have come with a lifetime guarantee, the former Count Basie star made each number shine, whether it was a torrid version of “Roll ‘Em Pete,” a tender “A Child Is Born” or a thought-this-one-was-worn-out song such as “Satin Doll.”

At 75, Williams obviously doesn’t have the voice he had in the ‘50s and ‘60s, but it’s still in awfully good shape. His middle and low range tones remain large and buoyant, and his high notes were never in danger Saturday of being called thin and brittle. Only when he really stepped on the volume, as he did during the second chorus of a very fast “What a Difference a Day Makes,” did his voice turn gravelly and gruff--and there was a good deal about that that was attractive.

Meanwhile, his ever-sophisticated approach has become even more so. He built his performance on two massive strengths: a propensity for tossing off lyrics at rhythmically dynamic points, and an ability to tell a story in a way that convinces you he knows what he’s talking about.

His rhythmic agility was exemplified by “Satin Doll.” Johnny Mercer’s lyric (“Baby, should we go out skippin’? Careful, amigo, you’re flippin’ ”) is carefree and catchy, but we’ve all heard it a thousand times. Williams made it fresh, even surprising, by singing some of the phrases riotously fast and stretching others out leisurely.

“All Right, OK, You Win” snapped and crackled, and “Goin’ Down Slow” positively smoldered.

His affinity for narrative found its mark during the philosophical “Here’s to Life,” an Artie Butler-Phyllis Molinary opus, the title tune of Williams’ latest CD. The song is about an older person who, even while looking back, continues to look forward; Williams delivered it simply but authoritatively. It easily could have been schmaltzed up with swooping increases and decreases in volume, but Williams just sang it straight and was immensely moving.

Simmons gave an object lesson in the art of accompaniment. His overall approach was to support Williams with a rich and full sound, as if Williams were singing with an orchestra.

Simmons would soften during the vocals and offer complementary ideas, and at the end of a vocal phrase, the piano would get a little louder to make a fittingly spirited musical comment.

Clayton and Ferguson were the canny cohorts to Simmons’ regimen. Whether it was by eye contact or just intuition, they knew what to do when.