The night was fraught with the weary skittishness that comes with holiday vacationing. Trying to fit in as many friends and family into five days led to endless coming and going, and by Friday night, day after Thanksgiving, I was a bit worn out. Kingston Mines seemed like the perfect night out with my two best friends and our special lady friends. Unfortunately, I was too distant to fully enjoy the music, and the music was distracting enough that I never found my conversational groove.
Coming away from it, I had one thing to ponder. What is the ideal blues club? Kingston Mines is tucked into a busy section of Chicago's north side and it's two expansive rooms assure attendees that they will spend the entire time listening to the blues. The walls are adorned with the typical blues hall chicanery: memorabilia, alcohol reminders, and off beat tomfoolery. The point is to let patrons forget they are in a place of business and encourage them to feel they are viewing authentic blues.
Sure, Magic Slim brought it. His guitar work was sharp and distinct. The vocals were energetic. As said, I just wasn't in the mood to sink into the mindset needed. Joanna Connor had fury and passion that brought me into the music and closest to the feeling one desires when they step into a blues hall. They were both much more than adequate at their craft, and if I see them on a bill on the right night they might blow me away.
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