Steven Seagal, pretentious pony-tailed sex symbol, is now reinventing himself as a Delta bluesman.
Don’t laugh. This is no joke. In fact, he is taking himself quite seriously here. His voice is actually decent. You can watch the video of his performance with his group, Mojo Priest, here - take note of his Gibson Firebird guitar, which is possibly the most un-blues guitar that someone could play.
The pop-culture luminary Mike Passion, whose work I have quoted before, has this to say about Seagal’s blues venture:
Steve has become a blues musician, and in addition to releasing 2 albums, has played many shows. I was able to catch one last month down at B.B. Kong’s in NYC. Disaterous. But why the change in Stese behavior? He talks completely different now, like an old blues man from Louisiana or Ceratodus. His behavior and moves were like a man possessed by demonic influences. At the show, Steve looked like a mess. His skin was glistened with oil, and his face was very thick, sick, blatted, wrinkly and pale. By his knee, he kept a bottle of grape cola to wash his mouth in-between songs. Then Steve approached the mic and growled his contingency to the audience who cheered loudly. His stature was huge and very fat. He raised up his guitar, a fender boguiar which was very beaten looking and broke into the county revival. This is when Steve showed his mettle, proving that an old, fat, sick looking man could still play his instrument with fervors. As the show progressed, Steve showed to signs of slowing and I grew concerned. About 20 minutes into the show, he was about as white as a sheet, with big, red horn rims about his eyes, and stiff white paste on his skin. He got up and jammed a far out, blues solo. He tramped his foot to the rhythm of the tune. But he looked like he would drop dead and it scarred the beep out of me. He started bending the guitar into his guts to produce and effect, and started banging it about to induce effects but he looked like he was at deaths door. “Thank you,” Steve said after the song, staring blankly and looking so unnatural, and bloated like a course. He stood there as if in a trance, staring into wall and not moving for about 2 minutes strait until a band member roused him from this daze. Steve looked so confused, like he didn’t know where he was, and this made the audience so quiet, you could hear a pinball. Steve sat, smoldering like a heap of shant. What the hell happened to you, Steve. His whole way of speaking is totally different, and I think he’s wither on drugs, or lost his mind. His physical shape is despicable, he is loathsome and tubed like a lard. Steve, don’t eat those donuts, please. I was a fan once, but you went nuts, man. For those of you questioning this story, go to his official website or find a recent sound clip of an interivew. He’s a sick man. Steve, please, get help.
