As soon as Detroit soul sensation Bettye Lavette let go of her escort's arm, the woman let fly. Lavette wailed salty and sultry to the large Lilac Festival crowd in the grass last Thursday night. Her voice was pure emotion - more Tina than Tina - breaking wherever the heart in the song did.

Sporting a new band, Lavette kicked into the Lucinda Williams-penned "Joy" with an extra slow - I like to call it baby-makin' - groove that had the whole scene gyratin' and anticipatin'. This song drives me wild. Her mid-60's hit "My Man Is A Lovin' Man" never earned Lavette the attention she deserved, but it sounded beautifully Top Of The Pops to me. She also brought down the sky with a beautiful take on Willie Nelson's "Somebody Pick Up My Pieces," sung sitting Indian style at the edge of the stage.

There's seems to be a new soul invasion, with folks like Amy Winehouse, Stephanie McKay (dig her at the Jazz Festival this year), Duffy, and James Hunter. But let's not forget the royalty, kids.

Rolled back down the South Avenue hill to Beale Street to catch the Gordon Munding-ran Son House Blues Night. WB Blues was in the window (that's the bandstand to you and me, Russ) honking acoustic and punchy while I awaited the arrival of my crawfish etouffe. Munding followed and played House's "Death Letter" for me. It's pretty morbid on the surface, but in reality it's a beautiful love song. It's just that, well, she's dead.

Abilene broke its live music cherry with a band in black paying tribute to the man in black. Cash Back was stashed in the corner of a packed house, digging deep into Johnny's songbook. Typically I don't cotton to cover outfits, but at this point Johnny Cash's music is virtually a genre unto itself, and it invites interpretation. Besides, if you can sing like the man, you oughta.