photo by Jan Schneider

The Lowriders perform.

Blue Sky, Blue Water, and a Ship Full of The Blues

(continued)

By Linda Oatman High

In the dictionary definition, the blues are basic three-chord progressions laid over a 12-bar framework. That's a sterile description, though, and it's really all about the heart and the soul, the glory and the grit, the heartbreak and the hope. It's about the improv: playing by ear and going with the flow. It's about emotion and a core connection, and it's all about the way the blues makes you sway, no matter the time of day. It's about gutsy guitars and vocals, piano and percussion, harmonica and brass and music so solid and real that you long to hold it in the palm of your hand. Most of all, the blues is about passion.

The blues are perhaps the purest form of American music, originating in the earliest days of this land with African spirituals and work songs. Passed down orally, the blues meshed in the late 1800s with Appalachian folk and country, creating new hybrids across the states. Nowadays, the blues have fragmented in form and grown in many different and interesting directions. There are Delta Blues and Chicago Blues, Country Blues and Texas Blues, East Coast Blues and Harmonica Blues and Modern Electric Blues. There are blues that don't fit into just one category, and blues that make brand-new genres.

The Legendary Rhythm and Blues Cruise has it all . . . plus some.

Some people take the blues, go jump overboard and drown
Some people take the blues, go jump overboard and drown
But when they gets on me, I'd rather stay 'n go sit down

                                         -1938, Memphis Minnie

We're in the darkened Vista lounge, nestled in plush red velvet seats, listening to Bernard Allison belt out his songs with so much power that the room seems to turn blue. Bernard, son of the beloved late legend Luther Allison, is holding his audience in rapt captivation with a fluid mastery of the frets that comes from years of practice, persistence, and passion, along with the luck and genetics that must come from being the son of Luther. Swinging his silver-beaded dreads, Bernard blends his body, the guitar, and the mystical invisible to create a performance that moves more than a few attendees to tears.

"I love you, Daddy," Bernard shouts toward the star-studded ceiling as his set ends.

With more than 75 performances, jams, and workshops, there's a plethora of possibilities on Blues Cruise. The dilemma lies in how to choose. Perusing detailed scheduling placed in the staterooms each evening, some Cruisers plan a scheduled agenda. Others browse, ending up wherever the spirit — or the drumbeat — leads them. With varied venues such as the acoustically-inclined Queen's Lounge and the outdoor Lido pool deck, the cozy Piano Bar and the top-of-the-ship Crow's Nest, passengers on Blues Cruise are never struck by Shuffleboard Syndrome. This is one cruise that's not highlighted by ice sculptures, although there is a cool RIP tombstone in the dining room on Day of the Dead theme night. Surrounding the ice are photos and flowers memorializing blues greats now gone to the great beyond.

Day of the Dead isn't the only theme night on this cruise. There's also Pajama Night, Mardi Gras, Pirates, and Hippies Gone Wild, with plenty of tie-dye, peace signs, swirls, and shiny white go-go boots. Shades of the late '60s are evident all over the ship, with the majority of Blues Cruisers being of Baby Boomer age.

"We're the generation that's always in search of connection and purpose," said one cruiser, a 57-year-old artist from Pasadena. "We wouldn't be content on a conventional cruise. We need meaning. We need to feel."

And, baby, do we ever feel on Blues Cruise. The chills and thrills are as constant as the wake of the sea, moving Cruisers through the week on a wave of music that swells and rises until we feel as if we can reach the sky. It's invigorating and refreshing and energizing, and we end each day with the kind of exhaustion that's a good-tired, like the kind of sleepiness that settles over a swimmer after a day of catching waves.

When I sleep on this ship, I dream of the blues . . . and I wake up happy.

Leave your ego;
Play the music;
Love the people.

     -Luther Allison's motto

"Our ancestors brought these songs over on ships, and we're keeping them alive on this ship. The old masters would be proud," says a band member I meet in the elevator one day. I don't remember his name, because there are so many blips of intersection connection on this ship. Musicians schmooze with attendees, and there's no sense of star solitude or diva-style attitude at this event. I meet Marcia Ball in the bathroom, and Sistah Monica in the gift shop. We break bread next to Elvin Bishop, and dance with John Lee Hooker Jr. We eat lamb chops grilled by drummer Harold Brown of the Lowrider Band, and we pour morning coffee with Eric Sardinas.

"People are people and we're all the same," says one performer. "We're all on this ship together."

Eric Bibb drives that point home in his show, when he speaks of healing differences among humanity. "We spent a week on this ship and formed our own little community of peace and love," he says. "We proved that we can all get along."

A common bond can be found in the lyrics of most of the musicians: a linked appeal of healing prejudice and strife. Peace is the theme of the week, here in this place where music is the bridge and there's no color line or racial divide.