CheekyChicago

Chicago loves their blues…and they love their blues dirty. There’s no dirtier, blues-ier blues bar than B.L.U.E.S. on Halsted. So…take off the stilettos and skinny jeans, wipe off the makeup and get rid of the bling-bling – it’s time to get dirty.

The signature neon blue sign hanging above their door has been lighting up Halsted St. and luring passers-by into the club since 1979. I’m honestly not quite sure much has changed since then. Walking into that dark, subterranean-feeling bar, you’re almost transported to a time when Barack Obama was not the President (!) and global warming wasn’t even a twinkle in Al Gore’s eyes. The rickety wooden stools, the black and white photographs on the wall, the jukebox near the bathroom – I’d venture to say that they’re all even older than I am. Hell, I’m pretty sure the blues musicians themselves have been there since 1979. If the bartender were just a tad older, I’d throw her in the same category as the stools, photographs and jukebox.

After paying an $8 cover (per person) and ordering a surprisingly delicious (extra) dirty martini and a beer (although not on tap because they don’t have any), we plopped down on our rickety stools, ready to watch a show. The band opened with Robert Johnson’s I Went Down to the Crossroads. Legend has it that this song is recalling the night when Robert Johnson arrived at a crossroads, met the devil and sold his soul to him in exchange for becoming the greatest guitar player that ever lived. This is the kind of thing that makes blues so cool.

I love my blues as much as a white girl from West Palm Beach, Florida possibly can. I love the truth, the soul, the sound, the power, the simplicity and the rawness. I am by no means an expert, but I like what I like and I like my blues Chicago-style dirty. Just like my…. martinis.