The Annual Bluesfest show returned to St. Louis Friday night, and whether y’all liked it or not, I’m talking about it. I got my life as usual, because bluesmen were the first swag masters when it comes to music. Some of y’all think that the blues shows are simply for the elderly. You are dead wrong. For every great uncle or grandpa in a pants suit or leather patched sweater and slacks with matching hat and gators, there was a significant young tender population scouting for a sugar daddy (or two) at Chaifetz Arena Friday night. That terrible accident on 70 East wouldn’t let my punctuality be great, so I got up in there just as Lattimore was belting “Let’s Straighten It Out,” in a muscle shirt with a silver fox hi-top fade and porkchop sideburns. I was so scared I had missed Bobby Rush, because he likes to go on early in the evening. He was next in the lineup, and gave life more abundantly. That jheri curl was jet black and supple, and he’s the only man on the planet that can get away with a peach suit, magenta undershirt and white shoes. As per usual he accused everybody of stealing from him. Considering he started out with Muddy Waters almost 70 years ago, there is plenty of truth to that. Mr. Bobby always has to go and do the most. This time, he started singing about his plus sized woman and pulled out a pair of panties that stretched across the whole stage. When he stepped foot in them, I thought I was going to need a breathing treatment. As he went on declaring his love for big women, he made note that he doesn’t deal with the elderly ladies – with his 85-year-old self. If you could have seen the sea of silver sneaker side eyes that came his way when he said, “old hens smell like snuff juice and liniment.”
