"Riviera Paradise" by Stevie Ray Vaughan and Double Trouble in the comments section.
Sometimes an electric guitar in the hands of a skilled musician becomes an extension of the player; an extra appendage, of sorts. What you are hearing now is one such case. I have always had nothing but respect and admiration for the skill that Stevie Ray Vaughan displayed—such a natural, organic talent.
When Stevie played, he put his whole being into every note that he wrung from that beat up old Stratocaster. You could see it on his face. You could feel it in your heart. I believe the act of creating music, when approached properly, is a transcendent and spiritual moment. The individual members of the band become synced, an organic whole which is infinitely greater than the sum of its parts. When Stevie, Reese Wynans, Tommy Shannon, and Chris Layton took the stage, each moment—from the first note to the last—was transcendent, for the audience as well as the band.
I was lucky enough to see these fine musicians perform once, a little under a year before Stevie’s untimely death and just shortly after his successful stint in a drug rehab. It was a ‘homecoming’ show; the first time Stevie had played live in Dallas since his rehab. He played liquid lightning for the whole set, and as I sat there on the fifty yard line of the Cotton Bowl I was moved to tears as Stevie and Double Trouble played the tune you’re hearing right now. It was magic, the day was fabulous, and I am infinitely grateful that I got to share that experience with Stevie and thousands of his closest friends.
The morning of my twentieth birthday, I was greeted with a phone call. A close friend of mine was on the other end, and I could tell she was crying as she wished me a happy birthday. “What’s wrong?” I asked. She hesitated for a moment before she told me. I was floored by the news. Stevie and a host of Blues greats had played a show at Alpine Valley in Colorado the night before, and as Stevie’s helicopter was flying out, it hit a mountain and killed all occupants. Stevie was gone.
At the pinnacle of his career, enjoying more popularity than he had ever had, and clean and sober, Stevie Ray Vaughan had lost his life. Stevie isn’t really gone, though, because we still have the fine recordings that he made. As I sit here and listen to ‘Riviera Paradise’ playing smoothly through the speakers, I close my eyes and I am transported back to that magical afternoon in Dallas, sitting in the middle of a football field and feeling the strains of this music from head to toe. There will never be another.
Ah, Stevie! Those were some good times. I love you, man.
Peace, wayf
