Budabee, budabee, budabee... that's all folks. Stick a fork in me: I'm done. I'm jazzed out, rocked out, blown out, and it feels so good. I capped off the weeklong orgy of song, song, and song (let's save the wine and women for another time) with one of my favorite artists, James Hunter. Hunter could very easily be today's king of blue-eyed soul. Hunter and his band ---- baritone and tenor saxes, upright bass, B-3, and drums --- took the East & Chestnut stage Saturday and immediately dove into his trademark sound. There's 50's and 60's r&b and soul and a little blues to be sure, but there has always been this Caribbean, Bossa Nova undertone that adds an additional shimmy-shimmy to the shake.

A good chunk of the crowd knew the British singer's stuff (he played here once a few years back) and sang along. The others who didn't, well, suffice it to say, they do now. Hunter's guitar style is as unique and raw as his voice, and he leaned into his TV yellow Junior with a dry and tight twang a la Ike Turner (Kings Of Rhythm era), often rolling off the treble in order max out its percussive quality.

By the end of the first song, Hunter's blue plaid shirt was soaked. Songs that followed were mined generously from all three of his records in a set that was peppered with a few detours, like a killer version of The Five Royales' "Don't Do It," and a one-bar reference to Link Wray's "Rumble" ---- I wonder if anyone else caught that? --- that left the crowd just as soaked. Nobody can holler "yeah" better than Hunter...except for maybe a few thousand Rochesterians yelling "yeah" right back at him. Hell yeah.