R.I.P. B.B. King: My Close Encounter with the Legend
Last night, legendary blues music pioneer B.B. King passed away in his sleep in Las Vegas, 
Nevada. He was 89. The acclaimed guitarist had long battled diabetes, while earlier this month it became known that King was in home hospice care after suffering from dehydration.
Although King recorded more than 50 albums throughout a career that spanned almost 70 years, I’m sad to say that I never listened to any of them. I understand King’s impact, but his music was just something I never sought out – nothing personal.
I am aware, however, that his extensive musical repertoire likely played an influence on many of the artists that fill my ears today – even those who couldn’t sound further from what King performed.
When I awoke this morning to the news of King’s passing, it made me recall a near encounter with the man. Within seconds, the visuals of the day came flooding in quickly. It’s amazing how just a few moments in one’s life can feel like an eternity.
Back in the early 2000s I worked as a music writer for a weekly magazine in Hamilton, Ontario. Although it was a job I did from home, on occasion I’d travel into the office to pick up issues, seek out review CDs, or demand paycheques.
One afternoon on my way out of the city, I walked toward the Sheraton Hotel on King St. Out front, a giant tour bus was parked and a modest, yet loyal crowd had formed on the sidewalk in front of it. By no means was it a mob scene, but it sure felt as if someone of great importance was about to cross our paths.
As I joined the huddle, I found out from the autograph seeker standing beside me that this was B.B. King’s bus. Unaware that he was even in town that week for a gig, I stood slack jawed. And, I stood still. For once, I was willing to put the music critic side of me to rest and stand outside a tour bus, as a music fan, and hope for a chance to meet living greatness.
Surprisingly after not too much time on the scene, the bus door opened and slowly King emerged as a wheelchair and an assistant awaited the blues great’s move down the stairs.
It was made very clear as this was happening that King would not be posing for photos or signing autographs. Although obviously too fatigued to partake in such events, King graciously smiled and waved at the onlookers as some applauded and others loudly expressed kind words. This part is fuzzy to me, but I likely just stood there in awe.
Even though many of us never picture (or want to picture) music Gods being pushed into a hotel in a wheelchair, the thought of seeing King in that state didn’t faze me, or anyone around. Why? Because it was B.B. King and because we were all just feet away from an indisputable musical beast – there was an aura to him that made this moment freeze in time.
After the hotel doors closed and King slipped out of our vision, I recall being more excited to see him, than I had been to meet or speak with the many top-notch musical figures I’d previously encountered. It’s hard to explain how that works.
Goodbye Mr. King. It was great to almost meet you. May your riffs will live on forever.
-Adam Grant
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