But Cleary still has a tell: he’ll turn to the audience with a look on his face that falls somewhere between a nudge and a wink, and he’ll say something cutesy to drive up audience applause. This is your moment of involvement. And it’ll often happen halfway through a song, when every stops and later picks back up in grand fashion.

These live moments are what makes jazz performances great. There’s an energy to them that simply can’t be captured on a record. It’s one of the reasons the best way to experience jazz is to see a live show, and it’s undoubtedly the reason there are still a lot of jazz bars left over from the genre’s heyday.

Some of that riotous crowd-pleasing is present on Mo Hippa, the live album that Jon Cleary put out with The Absolute Monster Gentlemen, his backing band. You can hear it on crowd-pleasers like “When U Get Back,” which is a stunner of a track — particularly with its chorus and harmonies.

The track is a great demonstration of everything else that Jon Cleary and his band have to offer to: most of the track is an incredible, jubilant piano solo that lights up the room. The crowd loves it. It’s in exact time with the band.

The hardest thing about jazz is the timing. The solos require an incredible amount of precision, regardless of the instrument you’re playing — and everybody in Jon Cleary’s band is monstrously talented (pardon the pun). But what makes the band so impressive is how tight they are. Jazz is often polyrhythmic, working in non-traditional time signatures. (That’s also the reason jazz is often so dance-able.) Those time signatures make playing tightly very difficult, but Jon Cleary & The Absolute Monster Gentlemen are impeccable.

I say all that so you can really appreciate what’s happening here, particularly on Booker T inspired tracks like “Mo Hippa,” the finale. Everybody on stage here plays incredible, and if it weren’t for Jon Cleary’s immense voice, they would completely overpower him. (I couldn’t find a version of this track on Youtube, but it’s a can’t-miss track. Here’s a performance from 2008.)

Some tracks in jazz rely on a more traditional blues-like structure, creating an atmosphere of melancholy. “Port Street Blues” are a perfect example of the mopey New Orleans vibe i’m talking about: it takes expert musicians to be able to play through a track like this, shimmying between different time signatures and tempos with ease. It’s also a fantastic track.

For most people, though, I suspect that Jon Cleary’s going to be at his best when the band is at their most energetic. For those people, “Cheatin’ On You” might be one of the standouts on the record. This is one heck of a track. “People Say” is also going to be a standout, particularly after the drums get involved.

If there’s anything I can say about Mo Hippa (Live) that I haven’t said yet, it’s simply this: I think the album is one of the clearest representations of New Orleans jazz that we as a music community are blessed to have. For fans of New Orleans jazz, it’s a must-listen. For people wondering why some of us love the genre so much, this is an approachable and fun way to find out.

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A couple years later, Mayer would release a much more popular live record called Keep Me Where The Light Is, both a popular lyric and a reference to his desire for fame and happiness. That record is a sham. This is the real deal. It features Mayer singing his own songs, with stripped-back guitar and a fantastic duo of musicians accompanying him (Gravity is particularly stellar here), but it also includes a ton of covers of popular blues song done in what now feels like the trademarked Mayer style.

A lot of people compared early Mayer to Buddy Guy, which might be a bit much — particularly with the benefit of hindsight. But what hindsight has also revealed is how much Mayer got right about the blues. What Quentin Tarantino is to blaxploitation films, John Mayer is to the blues: a white man paying such incredible homage to what’s typically been considered a black genre (with roots going as far back as slavery), that it’s hard to consider him anything less than a genius in most circles. But John Mayer’s just a man who listens to a lot of blues. It shows. Try! is an essential part of any respectable blues fan’s library.

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That makes Binge & Purge a time capsule of sorts: it’s the closest thing we have to real Best Of record from the group, and it’s the only great-sounding live recording we have left from this era of the band. (The next live recording Metallica released was S & M, a recording they made with a live symphony orchestra that unfortunately included too many of their post-Black Album songs for many fans’ likings.) This means that, as a great summation of what made early Metallica so great, Binge & Purge is essential.

It’s also, in retrospect, a sign of the reckless debauchery and cyclical addictions that the band members would experience throughout the next ten years before beginning the road to some of their recoveries during the recording of St. Anger. Frontman James Hetfield infamously throws a pint of beer on a well-meaning fan. The band disappears for fifteen minutes in the middle of a show, leaving hazed bassist James Newstead to play on his own until they return. (They call it a solo, but you just know they were backstage getting mid-show blowjobs from whatever women were around that night.) And while this drunken idiocy leads to some great laid-back moments, it also feels sad in retrospect.

Maybe I’m just getting old and missing the point though.

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I first heard of B.B. King when I was a young kid. I mean, heard of him, as in became truly familiar with him. I knew the name — every North American does — but an issue of Guitar World magazine was what really inaugurated me with his musicianship. I appreciated his playing then. Few people play guitar the way Buddy does.

As I got older, I learned to appreciate Buddy’s voice. Buddy sounds like the blues. Every blues singer owes something to him. His voice isn’t particularly “friendly,” but it’s powerful and carries serious heft. His voice, like his music, hits you below the belt. John Mayer might take over the charts, but B.B. King can take over your heart.

And then there was his charisma. You’ll never find a bluesman with more charisma than B.B. Live at the Regal is a great demonstration of his playing, his singing, and his live prowess. B.B. was an entertainer. He entertained America for almost 70 years, becoming the single most important permanent fixture in blues, rock and roll, jazz, soul, and even hip hop (to a certain extent).

And now he’s gone.

I had a five part issue of Unsung Sundays planned for this week, but I decided to push it all aside to honour this incredible musician. I’ve also elected to share a Youtube link to Live at the Regal, instead of the usual affiliate links. I think we all need to put 35 minutes aside, and reflect back on the incredible contribution B.B. King made to our culture.

Thanks, B.B. Rest in peace.

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