IN SESSION
Albert King with Stevie Ray Vaughan
Stax

The lone meeting of two contemporary giants of blues guitar, one a savvy veteran with a reputation for being cranky and domineering, the other a young heir to his throne on the eve of becoming a mainstream superstar, took place in a Canadian TV studio in 1983; now, finally, the entire session is available, and...it wasn't worth the wait because it could have been with us so much sooner. Think of all the years we've been deprived of listening to Albert King and Stevie Ray Vaughan playing together. Well, water under the bridge, and no hard feelings—it's here now, and it's fantastic. The repertoire is familiar fare, pretty much what Albert was playing in concert, but there's nothing commonplace about the instrumental attack. "Stormy Monday" gets a vivid, lowdown, churning treatment spiked with Albert's pungent, stinging attack, which gives way to SRV's similarly low-key, melancholy bursts redolent with Albert quotes. B.B. King's "Ask Me No Questions" sprints out of the gate, propelled by the sturdy rhythm section on board for the date—Gus Thornton on bass, Michael Llorens on drums (the lineup was rounded out by Michael's brother Tony on piano and organ) and a strutting vocal by Albert that precedes his jabbing, howling solos ahead of SRV's equally ferocious, trebly attack and Tony Llorens's rambunctious piano retort. Albert's "Match Box Blues" comes out prancing lightly, with a jazzy vibe supplied by Tony's organ vamps, supporting Albert's deceptively frisky vocal—that little, affecting ache he had in his voice surfaces and adds the sweetest tinge of melancholy to an otherwise upbeat workout. Where's Stevie? you might wonder. He's there, but he cedes the spotlight to his hero Albert until the master gives him an opening to cut loose—as he does mightily on "Match Box Blues" with a remarkable, intense statement, slicing and dicing all the way before Albert returns to take it home. This deference is what made SRV what he was—confident, but always respectful of those who had paved the path he was exploring for new avenues of expression. He found what he was looking for, and we get a taste of it here when Albert marvels at "that fast thing you been doin'...boy, that had a heck of a groove to it." Thus the opening for Stevie to explode out of the box with the furiously driving shuffle that announced his arrival as a solo artist, "Pride and Joy," crunching pitilessly forward behind the heavy guitar fusillade and Vaughan's gritty, soulful vocal, which he complements with colorful bursts of instrumental chording keyed to the song's buoyant emotions. Behind him, Albert interjects some horn-like riffs before taking flight on an electrifying upper neck sortie full of keening notes and exciting rephrasings of the main melody line. Maybe the biggest surprise to those who never had the pleasure of spending much time around Albert is the great benevolence and even protectiveness he displays towards his young charge. Lots of people have stories of Albert chewing out musicians on stage, but stories of his personal warmth are hard to come by. Between songs here we find him counseling Stevie Ray, not for show but because of what is clearly deep affection for the young guitar slinger. The sincerity in Albert's voice is deep and genuine. Before "Pride and Joy" King not only reminisces about the night in 1973 when Stevie sat in with him in Austin—"You thought I wasn't listening; you thought I wasn't, but I was listening. I thought about it all the way back to Illinois, I said, 'Now, he's got the makin''s of a good fiddler; he gonna be a good fiddler one of these days.' Well, sho' nuff."—but goes on to sweeten the moment with some common sense advice: "See, that's what you get for payin' attention. Have to pay attention out there. Boy, there's a lot of guitar players out here. They just play; they play fast, they don't concentrate on no soul, but you got 'em both." Before "Blues at Sunrise": "The most important thing, the better you get the harder you work. You can't say, 'I got it made, I got it enough.' Don't do that." Stevie: "I won't." Albert: "That's a promise?" Stevie: "That's a promise." Albert: "You gonna be good than what you are; you're already pretty good. You pretty good. But you gonna be better." Stevie: "That's the whole point." Albert: "Yeah. And I'm gonna be watchin' you and prayin' for you, and be right there with that board!" Before "Overall Junction," Albert admits he hasn't been tending to his guitar like he should have been, because "I'm getting ready to turn it over to you. Twenty-eight years is long enough. I get to sit back and watch you." They sign off with a bright, percolating blues, "Don't Lie to Me," and the afterglow from their virtuosity, camaraderie and endearing respect for each other lingers long after the last note fades. It's often said that sometimes what's not played in a composition gives it its power. On In Session, sometimes when these two masters are not playing a single note they're at their most moving. This is good, sometimes great music here, but it's also a poignant, human moment between two beloved giants, and that makes it even more special.—David McGee