ONE MORE WITH FEELING

When any legendary performer who's climbing up into his years comes
anywhere close to Little Rock, I dial up his age, add about 10 years
for hard living and road wear and, if that puts him anywhere near 80,
which is the upper reaches of an average American male's life
expectancy, I usually drop what I'm doing and catch a show. Apply
that system on Friday and you'll feel an extra bit of urgency when
you go hunting tickets.

Willie Nelson, who was probably drinking and smoking weed when my
father was but a gleam in my grandfather's eye, is 75, and B.B. King,
who's surely played more gigs (an estimated 15,000) than anyone ever, is 82.

You should feel urgent; two musical innovators of such status don't
team up to tour very often.

But don't worry about the age thing: Surely, Willie and B.B. are immortal.

Since, and maybe even before, James Brown's passing, they've been the
hardest-working men in show business, recording and touring almost constantly.

Nelson, as any elder statesman of music should, has lately seemed to
be doing pretty much damn well what he pleases.

He's put out a reggae-country hybrid album; stumped for Dennis
Kucinich; advocated for NORML (the National Organization for the
Reform of Marijuana Laws); released a song, following the "Brokeback
Mountain" hubbub, called "Cowboys Are Frequently, Secretly Fond of
Each Other"; and appeared in films like "Beerfest," "Dukes of
Hazzard" and, soon, "Surfer, Dude," where he'll stretch his acting
chops to play, by the looks of the preview, a weed-smoking guru.
Earlier this month, he released "Two Men with the Blues," a duet
album with jazz trumpeter Wynton Marsalis.

King, whose longevity might have something to do with the fact that
he's a vegetarian who doesn't drink or smoke, has lately been less
prolific in the studio, tempering his recording pace and focusing
more of his energy on touring.

In recent years, he's played a long set alongside Phish, headlined at
Bonaroo and performed some 300 shows a year. In 2006, he launched his
"Farewell Tour," which threaded through Europe and South America.
When an incredulous Brazilian reporter asked him if this was, indeed,
his farewell tour, King name-checked Sean Connery, "his favorite
actor," and mentioned Connery as James Bond in "Never Say Never Again."

Recent reports put King in the studio with producer T. Bone Burnett,
who's apparently hoping to bring it all back home for King with a
'50s-style sound.

That sounds like a great plan - the blues always sounds better unadorned.

And speaking of bringing it all back home, surely you've heard the
story of how the love of King's life ties in with Arkansas? Back in
the '50s, at a club in Twist, Ark., where King was gigging, two guys
got in a fight and knocked over a kerosene stove, which caught the
place on fire. Like everyone else, King rushed outside.

Then, realizing he'd left his $30 acoustic guitar inside, he rushed
back in, narrowly, as legend goes, escaping death, and retrieved the guitar.

When he found out the fighters were brawling over a woman named
Lucille, he named his guitar after her, so he'd always remember not
to act crazy and fight over a woman. Since then, all of King's
guitars have been named Lucille.

It'd be a shock if King and Nelson, long-time mutual admirers and
occasional collaborators, don't duet for a couple of songs.

Keep your fingers crossed, too, for King to do a Louis Jordan number
or two. He released a tribute album to the Brinkley native some years
back. Surely, someone will let him know that it's the centennial of
Jordan's birth.