Johnny Winter @ The State Theatre, State College, PA

November 18th, 2007 - by Che Steadman

Country, East Coast, Reviews, Shows

Johnny Winter still has it.

No matter that he sat in a chair, hat brim pulled low over his eyes, throughout his performance. Winter was just as full of the tortured Texas fire on Nov. 15, 2007 as he ever was in the ‘70s.

Winter played the State Theatre, State College, PA to a crowd of mostly middle-aged fans. It looks like the sun is setting on the blues, but on this night the music was alive and well. Almost all of the venue’s 500 seats were full.

My ticket was for Row B, a seat I was assured was in the second row. However, upon finding it, there were three rows between the stage and me.

“I wonder what the first two rows’re named…” I said to my friend.

The girl in the seat in front of me turned around. “They’re Row 1 and Row 2.”

“Oh,” I said. “Thanks.”

The lights dimmed and Winter’s band took the stage. The weathered souls in the audience let loose with as much enthusiasm as if they were back in college and seeing a significantly younger Johnny Winter. A small group of audience members at the front of the stage actually were in college, but they were the minority.

The band launched into a searing blues jam, the Fender Stratocaster-wielding guitarist demonstrating all he’d learned from touring with a Texas guitar master. Oddly, it was the last time he’d be onstage until the last song of the set. Finally, with the band vamping and the raucous crowd jumping, Winter was helped out onto the stage. He’s less sprightly due to recent hip problems, but it only adds to his hard-times blues appeal. Taking a seat at the center of the stage, he was handed an oddly shaped guitar and proceeded to hold the house enthralled for the next hour and a half.

The guy next to me was no exception. As Johnny poured his heart into his guitar on Muddy Waters’ “Hoochie Coochie Man,” my neighbor matched him note-for-note on his air guitar. After a lengthy guitar duel, he retired to the air drums for a while, shouting “Hoo! Hoo!” after every song.

The guys in the college group at the front of the stage spent their time motioning for the crowd to stand up, but the initial ovation for Winter had apparently tired out the aging audience members. Everyone mostly spent their time imitating Winter and sitting in their seats, cheering the man on from a comfortable position. However, when Winter broke out his trademark Gibson Firebird for the encore and filled the room with his impressive slidework, the crowd was on its feet and the sound was deafening.

Winter might be getting up in years, but his following remains as faithful as ever.