PERFORMING ARTS

James Cotton

In the wake of the '60s blues revival, Mississippi-born, Chicago-bred harmonica legend James Cotton displayed inexhaustible energy. He toured relentlessly, putting on marathon (and wonderfully animated) concerts that would severely tax the voice and lung power of any mortal. But then he wasn't dubbed Mr. Superharp for nothing.

Cotton, now 70, doesn't get around much anymore onstage. At Blues Alley on Friday night, he remained seated for nearly the entire opening set. He didn't sing, either. Decades of strenuous road work have helped reduce his voice to a raspy mumble. But if showmanship still counts for anything, Cotton's performance was indeed super.

Supported by a four-piece band, he blew and blew and blew, often contrasting high-register, Jimmy Reed-like riffs with thick, resonating chords. He paused long enough to switch harps and seemed eager to provide the capacity crowd with a colorful overview of his remarkable career. There were vibrant reminders of his recordings for the Memphis Sun label ("Rocket 88") and his long tenure with the Muddy Waters band ("Got My Mojo Workin'," during which Cotton briefly strutted with a big smile). Post-Waters concert favorites also inspired harp-powered romps.

The show got off to a shaky start, however. Cotton's group opened with a couple of tunes torn right out of B.B. King's tour book. Guitarist "Slam" Allen has mastered King's "butterfly" vibrato technique, and he has a strong voice. But the performances lacked the requisite horn power, among other things. The band's sound didn't jell until Cotton appeared and Allen and fellow guitarist Tom Holland began trading complementary solos.

-- Mike Joyce

George Duke

George Duke and Roy Ayers, both native jazz players who found their greatest commercial successes outside the genre, played to a capacity crowd at Carter Barron Amphitheatre on Friday.

Duke, 59, was a speed-freak of a piano player when he broke out of the jazz scene in the early 1970s to play with Frank Zappa's Mothers of Invention. Now touring with a backing quintet, Duke's still got a thing for velocity. While reprising jazz fusion-era collaborations with Stanley Clarke, Duke beat on his bank of synthesizers as if it were a set of bongos. He feigned exhaustion while wearing out the same two-note lick for several minutes during a sweaty jam on "No Rhyme, No Reason."

But Duke, who supported jazz legends (Miles Davis, Sarah Vaughan and Cannonball Adderley, with whom he played Carter Barron more than three decades ago) through the early portions of his career, got his biggest cheers when he went back to his romantic R&B ballads and disco biscuits. The crowd crooned along with Duke's young vocalist, Shannon Pearson, on "I Want You for Myself." And the ladies swooned when Duke sat behind a grand piano and sang the syrupy "Sweet Baby," a 1981 crossover soul hit. "When I wrote this, I told [co-writer Clarke], 'This isn't the song we'll be known for,' but it was the biggest song either one of us ever had," he said of "Sweet Baby." He got folks out of their rain-soaked seats with his 1978 dance-club hit, "Dukey Stick."