By Mark Plotnick
Photos: Jim Summaria
Walter Trout
Concert Review
Artist: Walter Trout
Where: Space, Evanston, IL
When: Sunday, July 14, 2024 (second show)
By Mark Plotnick
Photos: Jim Summaria
Like Eric Clapton, Peter Green and Mick Taylor before him, Walter Trout was a featured guitarist in John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers. And like the other three, he battled demons that transformed his life and career.
“I should have been dead by 30 with the life I was leading.” That life included a traumatic childhood along with alcohol and drug addiction. Years later, his liver called it quits, but, in 2014 he received a life-saving transplant. Along with a challenging rehabilitation, it took him months to relearn guitar from scratch. The experience brought renewed meaning and purpose to his life and music. This was the underlying theme of tonight’s performance.
Living the blues is not compulsory for singing and playing the blues, but it sure helps with one’s authenticity. Since receiving a new lease on life, Walter’s life story and music are linked forever. “When you face death and then come back, it’s all different. After having everything taken away from me, I don’t take music or life for granted. I hope that I can help other people in some way with my music.”
Based on his performance at SPACE, he delivered.
Inspiration and influences
Born March 6, 1951, in Ocean City, New Jersey, Walter fell in love with the melodic music of ‘60s bands like The Buckinghams and Paul Revere and the Raiders. His older brother introduced him to the Paul Butterfield Blues Band with Mike Bloomfield and John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers featuring Eric Clapton. He heard his calling. After attending a Moby Grape concert with Jerry Miller on guitar, the youth’s dream was clearer than ever. And then came B.B. King – a story I’ll get to later.
At age 22, Walter moved to Los Angeles hoping to sit in with anyone who would let him. He eventually found sideman work with John Lee Hooker, Big Mama Thorton and others. In 1981, he joined Canned Heat for three years before getting “that call” from the “Godfather of British Blues,” the legendary John Mayall. Walter recalled, “This was the pinnacle. He features you…lets you play solos…yells out your name after every song and lets you sing.”
The Bluesbreakers gig lasted five years until he chose to depart in 1989. Friends thought he’d gone loco. Mayall was like a father and stood by Walter during some difficult years. He recalled, “It was a huge decision. It was scary, but I had to do it because I knew I had more.”
That “more” became thirty-three solo albums and years of heavy touring – sometimes averaging 200 cities a year for much of his solo career. The city of Evanston (thanks to SPACE) was fortunate to be on Walter Trout’s 2024 itinerary.
It’s showtime
As concertgoers filed out of the early show, it was abundantly clear that something special had taken place. Even though Trout has drawn huge audiences (a free concert in Holland drew 500,000), the intimacy of SPACE better serves an artist who gets personal with fans. SPACE currently seats about 250 plus standing room. The acoustics are ideal. The club opened in 2008 as S.P.A.C.E - an acronym for the Society for the Preservation of Arts and Culture in Evanston. The periods between letters were later eliminated.
Prior to the start of the second show, I beelined to the stage to check out the band’s equipment and search for a setlist. There was an expansive pedalboard at the bass player’s position, but, at Walter’s spot, there was nada. In a prior Guitar World interview, he explained: “My pedalboard right now is the carpet and my shoes.” For readers who are into gear, Walter’s gets his expressive tone from his Signature Model Delaney Guitar, the high gain channel on his Mesa Boogie Mark IV amp and volume swells he achieves with his guitar’s volume knob.
As for a setlist, there was none. Was it on a computer? Were hard copies not yet taped down? As it turns out, Trout prefers spontaneity. “My songs are vehicles for us to jam on. Every night, we try to take them to a new place and find something different.”
After the show, drummer Michael Leasure told me, “Walter just calls out the songs.” Leasure then instructed me to grab my pen and pad as he recited the setlist from memory. Thank you Michael!
Get ready to rock
Before playing a single note, Walter plied his trademark humor: “For those in direct line with the amp to my right, drink up so you don’t feel the pain.” Walter was ready to wail on guitar. He reminded us that he’s been sober for 37 years and feels great…really good physically. But we had permission to imbibe.
The opening tune was an up-tempo version of Bo Diddley’s “I Can Tell,” with Walter shredding licks before taking on vocals. For a guy who was “knockin’ on heaven’s door,” he was very much alive and well!
Walter employs frankness to connect with fans. Certain aspects of his life aren’t pretty, but his self-deprecating humor communicates a man now fully comfortable with his life. Humor is his “chicken soup.”
Before introducing the next song, Trout passed on his street philosophy: “Life is an onslaught of crap, and we all need have to have courage.” The song “Courage in the Dark” was inspired by a line in a poem that read: “In a world of darkness, it’s a necessity that you hold on to your courage.” Walter understands this intimately, and when he sings, you buy into his message. His voice is as formidable as his guitar playing with dependable backup vocals from bandmates.
The mood quickly changed when Walter asked, “Does anyone feel like rocking?” Naturally, the house responded with a resounding yes, and the band followed with “Wanna Dance” from the 2020 album Ordinary Madness. According to Trout, the song‘s title is a metaphor for enjoying and celebrating every moment of being alive.
One of the night’s many highlights was a slow blues titled “Say Goodbye to the Blues,” Walter’s tribute to Riley B. King. He called B.B. the greatest bluesman who ever lived and told the audience, “Don’t argue with me because you’re gonna lose.”
Then came Trout’s story about being sixteen and working in a shopping mall store as a stock boy. When he took a work break, he saw B.B. King in the mall’s record store. He walked in and asked for King’s autograph and told the bluesman that he wanted to play the blues like him. King responded, “You want to play the blues? Well let’s have a little talk.”
That chat turned into an hour, and Walter’s boss wasn’t pleased, but the young man now knew what he wanted to do and immediately told his mother. Throughout the song, Trout relied heavily on volume swells to deliver the evening’s most passionate guitar playing. When the song ended, there were yells of “Walter…Walter…Walter.” This might sound corny, but there was genuine love and respect for the man onstage. Exhausted, Trout confessed, “When I’m in the heat of that song, it makes me feel like nineteen years old, but when it’s over, I feel like ninety-five.”
A word about Walter’s soloing. He’s not out to impress people with technical wizardry. There is always someone better. It’s about phrasing, emotion and feel. The late guitarist Leslie West told Walter a story years ago about the first Mountain album. The album’s producer told West “Don’t play it if you can’t sing it.” That’s Walter’s philosophy: play what the song needs.
Trout introduced the next song with a childhood story. He once lived in a home along railroad tracks. There was childhood trauma within those walls. He told his older brother that he wanted to ride the rails and escape his troubles. The band followed with the title song from the album Ride.
Trout once told a reporter, “Anyone who thinks I’m just a blues guy, I’m gonna hit them with my version of Pink Floyd.” While “Ride” was not Dark Side of the Moon, it featured a country rock motif that would have been comfortable on an Allman Brothers, Marshall Tucker or Charlie Daniels band record.
As the guitarist fiddled with an open tuning, he returned to one of the darkest moments of his life. Before a liver donor was located, he talked about being in a bed on his back for eight months, losing over one hundred pounds and unable to recognize his family. He also had brain damage. The medical center at UCLA issued him a death sentence, but a doctor and hospital in Omaha, Nebraska saw a ray of light. It was this period that led Walter and his wife to write the song “Omaha” from the 2015 album Battle Scars:
“It’s 3 A.M. and I stare at the TV. Somebody just walked in and says they wanna take more blood from me. Doctor Dan says just hold on if I wanna see another dawn, but I know I might be the next one gone. Down in Omaha, I'm down in Omaha.”
This blues in a minor key sounded like an old locomotive chugging away with a heavy load. When it came to the guitar break, Trout unleashed a barrage of Hendrix-like blues licks that sounded like a musical exorcism. It was jarring.
Walter again drew from the album Battle Scars for the song “Please Take Me Home.” As the narrative goes, Walter had given up all hope and told his wife, “I don’t want to die here. Take me home to die.” His wife said no, climbed into his hospital bed and whispered encouragement. It helped him get through his ordeal.
There is a calming and melodic beauty to this song’s structure. When I closed my eyes to listen, my brain sent images of the late Gregg Allman writing and singing something similar. He too had a liver transplant that gave him five additional years of life.
When the song ended, Walter confessed,” Yea…I hit a bum note, but you just need to keep on playing.” Another metaphor for his life.
Funny How?
Before handing the next song over to keyboardist Richard T. Bear, Trout told the story of an encounter Richard had at a Manhattan bar where he played piano. Joe Pesci walked in and kept returning for subsequent performances. Richard found this a bit unsettling because Pesci had played unhinged mobsters in several movies. The pianist got the nerve to ask Pesci – also with musical talent - why he kept returning. Pesci replied, “You play the best whorehouse piano I ever heard.”
Once the laughter subsided, Richard gave his Nord Stage Piano a boogie workout worthy of the great Albert Ammons. After the band joined in, Trout pulled out his blues harp and wailed. Once the song concluded, Trout reminded the audience that he played harmonica in Canned Heat but noted that the instrument requires enormous lung power and endurance which he no longer has. He is no Little Walter, but how many are?
America’s got talent
Trout then introduced his drummer Michael Leasure but not for a drum solo. He told the SPACE crowd that Michael was a superb impressionist that kept the band entertained. Naturally, he prodded Leasure for impressions of famous entertainers. Was this a rock concert first? Who knows, but I’ll take Michael’s drumming over his show biz alter ego!
Friends? He’s got em!
Back in 2017, Trout recorded the album We’re All in This Together. It was a record made under relaxed conditions and with contributions from Walter’s friends. Those friends were Kenny Wayne Shepherd, Warren Haynes, Eric Gales, John Mayall, Charlie Musselwhite, Randy Bachman and Joe Bonamassa. It was now time for a crowd pleasing sixteen bar blues. The album’s title song was the ideal vehicle for some good old blues riffing reminiscent of Walter’s John Mayall days.
Who’s that young man?
Through most of the evening, an unassuming young man on second guitar was positioned at the far-right of the stage. Trout introduced Brett Smith-Daniels and joked at how young, thin and handsome he was and how out of place he looked in the band. The British-Canadian singer/songwriter took the needling in stride, and once the laughs subsided, the band got down to business playing one of Daniel’s songs. Trout and Daniels engaged in some “head cutting” (i.e., dueling guitars) before the jam ended in dramatic fashion. Once again, the band conveyed a sense of ease and joy playing with each other.
Giving the guys a few moments to rest, Walter facetiously introduced the next song as, “One of those easy listening songs we are so well known for.” No one expected “Theme from a Summer Place” (by Percy Faith and his Orchestra) when the band kicked off “Red Sun” from the 2019 album Survivor Blues.
The evening’s finale put the focus on individual bandmembers. Trout offered a brief bio before giving each musician solo time. First up was keyboardist Richard T. Bear (aka T Bear) who played on five Kiss albums in addition to a successful recording career and a new CD titled The Way of the World.
Next up was bassist Michael Avila whose jaw-dropping resume includes the 1980s band Oingo Boingo. I lost track of the techniques Avila applied to his four-stringed instrument. At times, it looked like he was wrestling with his bass. As a side note, Michael’s stage presence made his performance that much more captivating.
And finally, it was the drummer’s turn. Michael Leasure has been with Walter Trout for many years and has played with Edgar Winter, Albert Collins and Buddy Miles. He is also a session player and instructor. Michael gave his drumkit a workout before the band took their bows.
Trout explained that the band’s two shows had exceeded the club’s time limit and an encore wasn’t possible. I sensed no disappointment among fans. Concertgoers were well rewarded, and the band had given its all. We were oblivious to the heavy rainstorm that awaited us outside.
Walter’s final words were “Sign up and be a donor.” Who better than Trout to deliver this message?
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About the Author: Mark Plotnick is the co-author, with photographer Jim Summaria, of the book "Classic Rock".
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