The Torch

The new documentary on legendary blues guitarist Buddy Guy looks at his life and career, with a special focusing on passing his legacy down to the next generation.

"Timing is everything." This phrase can be used when it comes to show business, comedy and experiencing pop-culture.

The IFC Films documentary "The Torch" tells the life and career of blues guitar legend Buddy Guy (now 85 years old) and his "passing the torch" to young guitarist Quinn Sullivan. Over the second half of his career, Guy has taken several musicians under his wing to teach them about the history and the importance of the blues.

Sullivan gained notice as a guitar protégé early on, getting appearances on "Ellen" to perform at the age of 6. This documentary shows his sharing the stage with Guy at age 7. He recorded his first album at 12. At age 22, Sullivan has four albums recorded and has toured the globe. The beauty of blues (and jazz) music is that a player in their 40s can still be looked at as a newcomer.

This is the third Buddy Guy documentary to come out in less than two years. Last year the PBS series American Masters released "Buddy Guy: The Blues Chase The Blues Away" and last week PBS released "Buddy Guy: True to The Blues." Now we have "The Torch."

(Here's the part of the review where the author reminisces. Come gather, Uncle Matthew has a tale to tell. It goes with the review, I assure you)

Watching these documentaries reminded me a lot of when I got see Buddy perform live many times while living in the Chicago suburbs in the mid-to-late 1990s. At his club, Buddy Guy's Legends in downtown Chicago, Guy would hold a month-long residency with a different opening act(s) each night. I got to see these January shows.

I've lost count at the number of times I've witnessed Buddy Guy perform live. Buddy Guy is one of the best live performances I've ever seen. The was blown away the first time I saw him perform live, as part of a touring blues festival (B.B. King, The Dr. John, The Fabulous Thunderbirds plus locals Duke Tumatoe and Yank Rachell) that made a stop at then-Deer Creek in the early 1990s. Guy had the guitar power of any rock musician I had witnessed before or after. When he jumped off the stage onto the audience main floor aisle, the security didn't need to hold the crowd back because nobody dared go near him while he was working. I had actually witnessed a Red Sea parting at a concert.

Back to Chicago, after the fourth year of seeing him jam on his home turf, in his own club, I realized he was putting on the same show. Same set-list for the most part, same bag of tricks (shushing the audience and later telling them they're not singing loud enough, soloing in and out of the club on his wireless guitar, the blues medley of artists who influenced him followed by the classic-rock medley of artists he influenced). My twenty-something, music d-bag persona came out hard. For years, when someone brought up seeing Buddy Guy live, I would scoff and "been there, done that."

I didn't see Guy perform live for several after moving to Indiana. In 2008, I interviewed him for WFYI previewing his appearance at Indy Jazz Fest. I asked him (politely and respectfully) what kind of show he was going to perform? Would it be like the performances at Legends? Guy made the point of saying how many folks would be seeing him for the first time. That's when I realized he was doing a show for the thousands (hell, it could seven figures by now) who have never seen him before. Yes, dear readers, Buddy Guy was not performing for That Guy leaning up against the wall, studying and critiquing and now just being and enjoying.

The year he played at Indy Jazz Fest, the day was marred by huge rain during the first part of the day. The festival decided to still have the musicians perform that night, including Guy. The crowd wasn't as big as hoped, but the few thousand people who arrived were thrilled to see an electric performance from Guy. It was the same show I saw at his club in the 1990s, but for the sake of the fans and the festival, it was needed right then and there and he delivered.

Now that Guy is in his 80s, he is a can't-miss concert because one doesn't know if this might be the last time we see him or not. I saw many musicians before him where I shared this same attitude. The last time I saw him live was at IU Auditorium in Bloomington in 2017 when he was 80. I wouldn't mind seeing him a few more times before he hangs it up, whenever that is.

Now, I told you that story to tell you this...

Those who know little or nothing about Guy and Sullivan will get a lot from "The Torch." Since I have watched the two earlier mentioned documentaries about Guy and read countless books and articles (plus played his music on the blues radio show for years).

Half of the film covers Guy's early years in Louisiana where he learned to play guitar when not working on a plantation. His migration to Chicago and rubbing elbows and guitar necks with blues masters like Muddy Waters, Howlin' Wolf and Otis Rush. He started recording in the late 1950s, including session work for Chess Records, where the Chess brothers deemed him "too loud" to play. Less than a decade later, rock guitarists like Jimi Hendrix, Eric Clapton, Carlos Santana and Keith Richards sung Guy's praise and Chess Records changed its sound to appear to a younger and yes, whiter audience. For once, Buddy Guy was the proper use of the term "ahead of its time."

Guy kept slugging away in the 1970s and 80s. His 1991 album Damn Right I Got the Blues opened him up to a whole new, wider generation of fans and he's never looked back. Guys has been famous for taking young musicians under his wing, like Muddy Waters and Howlin' Wolf did for him.

"The Torch" feature past protégés like Joe Bonamassa, Jonny Lang, Derek Trucks and Susan Tedeschi. There's footage of a seven year-old Quinn Sullivan taking the stage with Guy, playing his guitar better than you and everyone else reading this review put together. A year later, Sullivan appeared on the song "Who's Gonna Fill Those Shoes" on Guy's album Skin Deep in 2008.

Sullivan (now 22) has recorded four albums and is still on the road. The film shows his touring Europe in 2016. The film ends with teach and student recording together, recording a new song. The film also shows Sullivan sharing the stage and backstage with musician Christone "Kingfish" Ingram, a year older and just as hungry to learn more, live more and play more.

What is great about musicians is that they are like a cast iron skillet. The more it’s used and seasoned and taken care of properly, the better it will be to work with and the food will taste better. If you like Quinn Sullivan now, I can't wait until he's in his 40s performing. In the blues (and jazz) work, he's just getting started.

I knew the Buddy Guy portion of "The Torch" all too well, but I am now at a stage that it's better to revisit him now. We don't know how many more years we have left with this blues great. It's good to hear Sullivan's story and here's hoping he creates his own path, his way. "The Torch" is like a song you've heard before, but on this particular night, the drink and music hit at just the right moment to listen (not hear) the tune.

Matthew Socey is host of the podcast Film Soceylogy and the radio show The Blues House Party for WFYI 90.1 FM in Indianapolis