Two hours that rocked the Coliseum

Originally published in Espinho Vareiro on 30 March 1990

Following a five-minute soundcheck, B. B. King received a standing ovation upon his entrance at the sold-out Coliseu do Porto. A striking figure in sober grey against the orchestra’s brown, the “King of the Blues” immediately captivated the audience with a stunning “Rock’n’Roll.”

Another blues piece followed, and B. B. King was in his kingdom. He gave himself over to “Lucille,” lulled and carried by her phrases like a child on a current. Then, with his signature mastery, he bent a high note until it hung suspended, echoing into every corner and pushing the audience to a fevered crescendo.

Next, a driving boogie-woogie served as a virtuosic showcase for trumpeter Wiggins and saxophonists Walter King and Melvin Jackson. The temperature lowered with ‘Ain’t Nobody’ and ‘Darling, You Know I Love You,’ a gentle interlude that found a seated King pouring heartfelt emotion into the music, dedicating the first song to Mississippi.

After 10:30 pm, the pace accelerated into a whirlwind of breaks, riffs, and call-and-response among the horns, bass, and drums. The sole disappointment was the piano, whose poor tone was impossible to ignore — prompting one to wonder if Porto lacks a piano technician truly up to the task.

Next, B.B. King introduced Rui Veloso, who received a standing ovation as he joined the grey-suited maestro on stage. With characteristic restraint, Veloso subtly adjusted his tone during the opening bars of a blues. His playing, like aged Port, grew more luminous and crystalline by the note — a progression halted only by a raw shout from the audience: “Rui is the greatest!”

A dialogue of rare beauty quickly unfolded between ‘Lucille’ and Rui’s guitar, thrilling the audience. The mood then turned profoundly communal with ‘Porto Sentido’ — a song played, sung, and chanted in B.B. King’s honour, touching everyone in the hall. The spell was briefly broken in the next song when Rui Veloso snapped his high E string. Saxophonist Melvin Jackson swiftly brought him a replacement, but rather than pause, Rui adapted seamlessly, shifting to a lower register as King supported him with soaring high notes. For his final flourish, Veloso returned to his old but beloved blue guitar.

Close to 11 p.m., the concert reached another peak as ‘Every Day I Have the Blues’ brought the audience to its feet. In response to the unyielding applause, B.B. King graced the audience with three encores. The pinnacle was the second: a magnificent, crowd-rousing performance of ‘When The Saints Go Marchin’ In’ that sealed the evening as a true event.

The security’s focus on restricting visual recording to accredited personnel bordered on the absurd, especially when contrasted with the unchecked consumption of canned beer throughout the venue. For the latter, no special credentials seemed necessary. The American couple seated directly behind me in the second row — the husband from Ohio, and Julie Sutliff from Pennsylvania — could certainly attest to that.

Following the show, a determined negotiation with security finally granted me access to the dressing room to greet B.B. King. My passport was a souvenir T-shirt from a 1985 summer course — ‘Living Blues’ on the front and ‘The University of Mississippi — Center for the Study of Southern Culture’ on the back. Inside, I found him sharing a glass of semi-dry Aveleda white wine with Rui Veloso. We raised a toast and shared a warm embrace. The next day, the Porto edition of Público commemorated the night with a stunning cover on its cultural supplement, capturing the great B.B. King playing Lucille as if he were left-handed.

[embed]“Porto Sentido”, Coliseu do Porto 1990 — Rui Veloso e BB King