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B.B. King: The Life of Riley
Directed by Jon Brewer
Emperor / Cardinal Releasing
119 minutes, 2012 / 2014
First
some housekeeping: so in case you didn’t already know, blues legend extraordinaire
B.B. King was born Riley King, hence the name of the documentary about his
life. While a young’n in Mississippi and Tennessee, he became known as Blues
Boy King, which led to his better known shortened moniker. While his name has
undergone a couple of changes, all his guitars share a similar one: Lucille.
Okay,
now back to our show. The film opens up with a short, terse clip of Bill Cosby
(how’s that for timing?) describing what it was like to be Black and to live in
the Deep South pre-1960s. Along with his ruined reputation, Cosby has spent
much of his life and career heralding the Blues genre, especially the Northern,
electric variety.
Before
the introduction of King the Man, we are given another brief intro to what the
Blues means, and what King has brought to the Blues. Pointing in that direction
are the likes of Bonnie Raitt, Carlos Santana, John Mayall, Aaron Neville and
Eric Clapton.
Though
King was born into the more traditional acoustic sounds of the Delta, he would
move north to Chicago and become the father of the electric Blues, and the
touchstone for nearly every ‘60s classic rock band that followed. Hit records
on the R&B charts and near-constant touring during his 90 years-plus on
this earth [b. 1925] has made him a legend, an originator, and a man with whom to
be reckoned.
The
film follows his life chronologically and in sharp detail, interviewing many of
his elderly relatives that certainly must be near the centennial mark, talking
about how B.B. was a kid when they met him. While the story follows his
trajectory, there is a mix of media of B.B. at different stages of his life,
talking about those days, mostly taken from various interviews from television
through the decades. Mixed in with these are some b-roll films and stills from
the period of poor workers and kids, and the occasional historical re-creation
(e.g., clips of a young “B.B.” walking down the road with a guitar, or hitching
to Memphis).
One
chilling part, especially considering the U.S. politics as the moment, is the
discussion of living in the Deep South under the watchful and vengeful hand of
the KKK (Mississippi Goddamn, for
real). This section is both about King, and the culture in which he lived and
grew into adulthood.
Because
much of this follows his life’s history line, we get to see the inexperienced
youth he started out to be, and follows through to fame. His rise came in
spurts, each one jetting him up the ladder and bringing him further notoriety.
For example, his recording career started as a jingle writer – and then DJ –
for the first black radio station in Memphis, WDIA (where he officially became
solidified with the shortened “B.B.”), leading to recording at Sun. A contract dispute
there brings him to Chicago and Chess Records, where he would break into the
“Chitlin Circuit” (there is a humorous argument on the film between some
musicians and a photographer from the time arguing over the term).
I
once had a professor who posited that trends started with the lower classes,
was noticed and copied by the rich trying to show how “cool” they were (via
appropriation), and then finally reaching the Middle Class, who want to emulate
the wealthy. This is certainly true of the Blues, and has certainly had an effect
to King’s career. While popular within the Blues audience, he was “discovered” and
copied by British musicians such as the aforementioned Clapton and John Mayall,
Ronnie Wood, Mick Taylor, Paul Rodgers, Ringo Starr, Bono and Peter Green, all
of whom are represented in this film. This brought the sound to American audiences,
including musicians John Mayer, Jonny Lang, Susan Tedeschi, Slash, and Joe Walsh.
Bonnie Raitt comes right out and states that she learned about the sound from
the British Blues.
In
fact, King opened for the Stones on one tour, as a brief interview with four of
the band (including Keef and Mick), attest. Also included are some clips from
the U2 documentary, Rattle and Hum (1988),
in which King played with the band.
But
it’s not all big-time musicians who have a voice here, as we meet King’s second
wife, producers, managers, other Blues musicians, and also some members of his
band, which is what I especially enjoyed.
His
breakthrough point to mainstream audiences, after being put on the brink by the
Brit rockers, was “The Blues Is Gone,” the song that would be forever
identified as his. But even so, this
is just part of his career as one of the most influential musicians of the 20th
(and 21st) century, which is clearly posited – and rightfully so – by this
documentary.
The
director is Jon Brewer, a Brit who has a history in both rock and
rockumentaries, thereby gaining insights from musicians who would have normally
been out of scope, such as members of the Stones and U2, which elevate this
film into a stratosphere not usually reached by most filmmakers, even if their subject
is someone, well, like B.B. King.
But
does that make a good documentary? Well, in this case, considering the talent,
it probably was important to have that many names
to show how loved King is, but personally, I would have liked to hear more of
B.B. rather than mostly a parade of stars. The balance is far more to the other
musicians than to King, but I guess it is okay considering who those names are,
in the long run. Luckily, there is Morgan Freeman to narrate the whole thing,
and a lot of B.B. King’s music.
The
extras are a number of extended interviews and an 8-minute clip of King live at
Albert Hall in his later years, accompanied by the likes of Slash, members of
the Stones, and others.
B.B.
King passed away in May of 2015. RIP, and thank you for all you have
contributed. The world of music would have been a very different place without
you.
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