Berry was introduced by birthday boy and Beaumont radio legend Al Caldwell, who related a story about seeing the man in 1956 and the performance changing his life and the world to come. Berry appeared onstage behind Caldwell, long and lanky, in his trademark captain's hat, black slacks, and red spangly button-up, toting his guitar in his massive hands.
As per the Berry custom, behind him was a pick-up band made up of a drummer from Lake Charles, a local keyboardist and Berry's own longtime bassist. He doesn't sound-check with any of his local guns, nor does he seem to tune his guitar anymore. For their part, the band was on point, as much as they could expect to be while trying to get a bead on where the elderly Berry was going.
Opening with "Roll Over Beethoven," Berry was loose and fluttering. He no longer plays as fast as he could just two decades ago. But with the slowing of his wizardry, you can hear every single chord that holds the DNA of rock and roll. For "Sweet Little Sixteen", slowed down to a crawl, you could hear the guts of most every Keith Richards-written Stones stomp.
With the band clueless as to where he was going, and Berry working off a supposed list of 280 of his classics sitting on an amp, the sound rarely came into focus. At times, it sounded shambolic, or to be a little more modern, reminded us of hearing someone bombing (badly) at Guitar Hero.
The drums would slow, the bass would speed up, the keys would try to float above the mess, but then Berry would throw a curveball and change his own arrangement completely. But this wasn't the work of a virtuoso, it was old age.
He was unrepentant about his stuttered playing. "I'm 84 years old. I will play you a make-up show in the morning if I live through the night," he giggled as the older folks in the crowd, the ones who paid the big bucks to sit feet away from Berry, watched their evening's investment fly away. This would be no muscular greatest-hits set, but an exercise in patience and respect.
Berry played "Nadine" twice, as he said, once for the crowd and once for the band to get in tune together. "Little Queenie" showed signs of life, with its immoral tale still intact six decades on. As old as a man may get, he doesn't stop being a man. He would forget the words for his sole No. 1, "My Ding-A-Ling," but the crowd filled in for him.
Each of the night's eight songs, counting the doubling of "Nadine," never took off the way they should. He would forget words, repeat the choruses, or simply hum the melody into the microphone.
"Reelin' And Rockin'" was a bright spot, with the song's blues structure letting the raunch shine through and reminding everyone where all these songs come from. If Berry had the time, he could have a decent, slow-burning blues record in him. It was a special moment.
