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R.I.P.

Luther Allison, 1940-1997

by Ted Drozdowski

Bluesman Luther Allison called himself "a 100-percent giver." Anyone who'd seen his unsparing concerts in recent years -- hours-long feats of high-wire guitar pyrotechnics and the kind of hard-edged soul singing he'd learned coming up in Chicago's West Side ghetto -- would agree. And after decades in the blues trenches, he was finally getting something back.

The deal he signed with Alligator Records in 1994 resulted in his three best-selling releases and made him the darling of the US and European festival circuit. In 1996, he received six Handy Awards (the blues equivalent of Grammies). The 57-year-old who'd struggled ever since he was born poor on an Arkansas cotton plantation was at last on top of the world.

Which makes his death on Tuesday, August 12, all the more tragic. On July 10, Allison was delivering one of his fiery performances on a Virginia stage when he was overcome by severe dizziness. The diagnosis was inoperable lung and brain cancer, but even as he began treatments in Madison, Wisconsin, the tenacious player aimed to return to the stage. (He had given up smoking cigarettes in the early '90s.)

For years, Allison was under-recognized for his contribution to the loud, gritty style of blues that emerged from Chicago's streets in the '60s. But judging from his recent performances and his recently re-issued debut, Love Me Mama (Delmark), it was clear he was as vital a torchbearer of the West Side sound as Buddy Guy, Magic Sam, and Otis Rush were. Despite being the first blues artist to record for Motown, Allison eventually was forced to become an expatriate -- he moved to Paris in the early '80s -- to sustain his career. His 1994 Alligator CD, Soul Fixin' Man, was his first domestic recording in nearly 20 years. Allison was touring behind his latest release, this spring's Reckless (also on Alligator), when he was felled.