Good Cop and Bad Cop had an argument about which show to review last night.

Good Cop: Your assignment is the Ted Leo show at Castle Clinton.

Bad Cop: No fucking way. See this sunburn? You wanna know where I got it?

Good Cop: I know, Pier 1, the accordion festival last week.

Bad Cop: That’s right. Burn me once, shame on you. Burn me twice…what did Bush say?

Good Cop: Don’t be a wimp. You’ve gone through worse for a story before.

Bad Cop: Ain’t that the truth! And I’m sick of it. I could review the organ concert this afternoon…

Good Cop: Nobody wants to read another organ concert review. Maybe in the fall. C’mon, you’ll be late.

Bad Cop: I’m not going. I’d rather go see Duke Robillard instead.

Good Cop: He’s old! None of the kids know who he is.

Bad Cop: My point exactly! Ted Leo’s a popular indie rocker, everybody knows him, he needs a Lucid Culture review like he needs a hole in the head.

Good Cop: But he’ll get us hits, the review will generate traffic. Come on.

Bad Cop: I’d go if you got me on the list. But did you get me on the list? NOOOOO. If this was so important, why didn’t you get me on the list?

Good Cop: There’s no way I could have, we’re nobody to Ted Leo’s record label.

Bad Cop: Then don’t expect me to review it. I don’t understand it. You can get me into any club in town and you can’t get me into a free show at a city park.

Good Cop: Come on, take one for the team.

Bad Cop: I’m not standing in line for an hour in the hot sun with a bunch of trendoids.

Good Cop: You’d rather stand in the hot sun with a bunch of yuppies then?

Bad Cop: Yuppies don’t smell as bad. Besides, how many blues shows have we covered?

Good Cop: OK, ok, just don’t be upset when nobody reads your review.

Bad Cop: You think I’m not used to that?

With that, Bad Cop poured an entire bottle of red wine into his thermos and huffed out the door. This is his report:

Duke Robillard has made a reputation as one of the few blues guitarists who can indulge in a lot of pyrotechnics without overplaying. Tonight, the former Roomful of Blues lead player turned in an almost shockingly terse set: has he lost a step, or was he just in a minimalist mood? Those who came out expecting to hear mile-a-minute solos and wild, frenetic wailing doubtlessly came away disappointed, but for those who think long guitar solos are overkill, this was a show to see. The crowd was weird: in addition to the usual contingent of old stoner guys in Pink Floyd t-shirts, there were tons of rugrats, and a young woman who looked like the actress in Carnival of Souls clinging tightly to a pillow-sized stuffed animal that she wouldn’t let go of, even when her boyfriend showed up. There was also a mobster and the muscular, tattoed guy who appeared to be his enforcer, arguing over a favor the enforcer wanted. Whenever the conversation got really heated, they went closer to the stage to keep their discussion private. No dummies, those guys.

Robillard had an excellent band behind him, a saxist who doubled on harp, keyboardist and rhythm section. Robillard’s always been more of a swing jazz guy than a straight-up blues player, but it was mostly all the latter tonight. Robillard’s remarkably chordal aproach has always distinguished him from similar flashy players, and unsurprisingly, it was that material that stuck out from the rest of the songs in the set, particularly a straight-up, Stonesy rock song possibly titled She’s a Live Wire. Early in the set, Robillard tried taking flight a couple of times but couldn’t get off the runway, so he held back the rest of the way. He started playing his usual big, beautiful Gibson hollowbody, then switched to Telecaster and immediately found his groove. Then, surprisingly, he put it down and sang a cheesy old 50s hit, which didn’t exactly work out because nobody comes out to hear Robillard sing: he’s one of those guys who sounds like he has a frog in his throat. He then picked up the Tele again for a couple of cuts from his new album Swing Session, a jump blues and a slow ballad, then picked up another Fender that he said somebody had handed him and asked him to play, and complied. And played his most interesting solos of the night. With the same charmed guitar, he then tackled a T-Bone Walker number (now there’s a jazzcat playing blues!) and began it with some classic T-Bone style 4-on-3 playing, before closing with a long, almost Grateful Dead-style one-chord jam to close the set.

To answer a question recently posed, why would anyone want to see a blues show? Well, you can dance to it – the kids definitely were. It’s fun, and if the band is good and doesn’t overdo it the soloing and interplay between musicians is very cool (translation: it’s great stoner music). And the blues cats keep dropping like flies: someday you or your children may not get to hear any of this anywhere but on a recording.