The combination seems wrong: Sam Myers is a stolid, nearly blind straight-ahead Mississippi harp veteran, and here he is fronting a band full of hip young cats with rockabilly souls, abrim with Texas licks and jumping all over the blues. But Myers is powerful enough to assert himself over the band's good-timey aggressiveness, and young Funderburgh is simultaneously one of the most technically dexterous and one of the most tasteful of the current crop of blues guitarists--he builds a solo like a Boy Scout builds a fire, placing notes like burning pieces of kindling atop one another with increasing abandon until it's finally roaring, hot and glorious but never out of control. Visually, the band takes some getting used to, but somehow it all works: as disparate as Myers's Mississippi traditionalism is from his bandsmen's post-T-Bone Walker Texas boogie swing, the two styles make a savory gumbo. Saturday, B.L.U.E.S. Etcetera, 1124 W. Belmont; 525-8989. Sunday, Shades, 21860 N. Milwaukee, Prairie View; 708-634-2583.
Art accompanying story in printed newspaper (not available in this archive): photo/Bill Crump.