Hello music maniacs! it’s your pal Al here. The scene was serene as sound waves corroded my spleen. I’m still wiping off my trench coat after my face was melted and my ears caressed on the cusp of Charlotte Street’s finest venue. Richie Young snatched the stage and brought exactly what we expected. A Hoochie Coochie Man in his own right, A Howlin’ Wolf in his own despair and a Smokin’, Tokin’ , Jokin’ titan of a little thing we call The Blues.
I had the pleasure of seeing Young down in the depths of our quaint river city about a year ago doing his thing and doing it well. Guitar case open, harp around his neck and nothing but the day to burn away. His style alone is enough to turn heads but his sound will completely spin that sucker right off your shoulders. As he tapped his toe to his rendition of Little Walter’s “My Babe”, I thought the sidewalk was going to crack and the concrete pieces were going to start dancing as sensually as the hairs on Richie’s lip.