My skin is peeling and my socks are still drying, but damned if this year's Chicago Blues Fest (June 5-8) wasn't worth every epidermis-scorching, clothes-drenching moment. Sunburns and cloudbursts didn't prevent me from wandering throughout Grant Park for four days with a goofy grin plastered to my mug, soaking up seven stages worth of blues for 9-10 hours a day. As usual, the side stages often presented some of the most riveting performances

Some highlights:
• Louisiana Red (Iverson Minter) put on a typically heartfelt performance on the Louisiana Bayou Stage, both solo acoustic and accompanied by a bassist and second guitarist. Red remains a personal favorite, his writing and delivery quite unusual and deeply autobiographical. His rough-hewn, emotional voice and keening guitar make your eyebrows knit and your head shake from side to side.
• Little Willie Littlefield boogied his ass off! Performing solo, with a band and then taking to the bandshell stage as a solo warmup to B.B. King's set, Littlefield never stopped grinning or pounding hell out of his piano. A true character, the boogie king made a big show of removing his right shoe and placing it atop his piano before stomping the stage with his stockinged foot. (Cool side note: I flew in from Cincinatti with Littlefield's backup band, the excellent Blue Points, from the Netherlands, which is where Littlefield also lives.)
• An unplugged round-robin of Chicago blues stars on the Mississippi Juke Joint Stage displayed a wealth of local talent. Guitarists Jimmy Burns, Carl Weathersby and John Primer, Willie Big Eyes Smith (on harmonica) and son Kenny Smith (on drums) traded licks and vocals as they jammed on each other's tunes.
• Don't know much about this cat, but L.C. Ulmer was among my favorite acts of the weekend. Hailing from Mississippi, the country-blues master, 80, simply astounded with his idiosyncratic guitar and vocals. If anybody knows more about him or his recordings, please let me know.
• Attired in Satan's pajamas, Piano C. Red hosted an all-star session as he welcomed local players up to the Maxwell Street Corner stage to do a song or two before launching into his own elegantly rollicking boogie-woogie.


OK, this was just Day 1. In the bandshell, I enjoyed the ever-brassy Big Time Sarah, and Johnny Winter was better than the last time I saw him, but I was disappointed with Duke Robillard's tribute to Louis Jordan. My friend Bruce Fine put it best: "Louis Jordan is supposed to be fun. That wasn't fun." Didn't even do "Ain't Nobody Here But Us Chickens."

Next post: More dispatches from Chicago Blues Fest — fife 'n' drums, banjos and Sam Lay's golden shoes.