June 21st is Fête de la Musique in France, which means music is everywhere. Bands occupy street corners, singers perform in cafés, churches and museums open their doors to curious listeners, and every available electrical outlet seems to power a DJ determined to soundtrack the night. Most of it is free. Much of it is excellent.
ZZ Top's contribution to the festivities, however, comes with a rather substantial admission fee. Over the years, tickets for the Texas trio's Paris appearances have steadily climbed in price, to the point where some longtime fans have reluctantly been forced to sit this one out. It is a shame, because few bands deliver as consistently as ZZ Top. Fifty years after their formation, and with the same three musicians still occupying the stage, they remain one of rock's most dependable live acts.
The formula is deceptively simple: take one of the most distinctive guitarists of the past half-century, add a bassist whose voice is every bit as important as his playing, anchor everything with an immovable drummer and let the groove do the rest.
Billy Gibbons naturally commands much of the attention. His guitar sound is among the most recognizable in rock music, full of harmonics and attitude. For reasons that remain somewhat mysterious, his name is not always mentioned alongside the usual pantheon of guitar heroes, yet his influence and originality easily justify such company. Every ZZ Top song rests upon his riffs, his phrasing and that unmistakable tone.
Alongside him, Dusty Hill provides what may be the band's secret weapon. His bass playing is rock-solid, but it is his voice that gives ZZ Top much of its character. Whether handling lead vocals or weaving harmonies around Gibbons' singing, he contributes an essential ingredient to the band's sound. Behind them, Frank Beard continues doing what he has always done: laying down deep, unfussy grooves that keep the entire machine moving forward.
The production has naturally grown over the years. There are lights, costume changes, synchronized movements and all the trappings one expects from a veteran arena act. Yet beneath the polish, ZZ Top remains fundamentally a bar band.
The songs are built on blues, boogie and rhythm and blues. They are designed to make people move, raise a glass and forget their troubles for a while. It does not matter whether the setting is a Texas roadhouse or a modern concert hall in the Paris suburbs. The spirit remains the same.
The setlist leaves little room for complaints. "I'm Bad, I'm Nationwide," "Beer Drinkers & Hell Raisers," "Pearl Necklace," "Cheap Sunglasses," "Gimme All Your Lovin'" and "Sharp Dressed Man" arrive one after another, each greeted like an old friend. The trio understands exactly why people bought tickets, and they deliver accordingly.
That may sound like a modest ambition, but it is not. Making thousands of people from different backgrounds, generations and cultures respond to the same groove is no small feat. Plenty of artists spend careers trying to manufacture that kind of connection.
ZZ Top does it with three instruments, a handful of timeless riffs and fifty years of experience. But make no mistake: underneath the beards, sunglasses and mythology, it's still all about the blues.
