Photo by Tom Hunnewell

To tell you the truth, Buddy Guy is a m*therf*cker. At least that's what they called him at the Chess studios in Chicago. Well, OK-they called everyone else that, too, from Leonard Chess on down. But that doesn't make Buddy any less of a bad mofo on guitar. Idolized by generations of blues and rock guitarists such as Jimi Hendrix (who sometimes skipped his own gigs to watch Buddy play and try to figure out what he was doing), Eric Clapton (who says Buddy " is the greatest blues guitarist in the world"), Bonnie Raitt, Stevie Ray Vaughan, and many others, Buddy has played and recorded with everybody important. At 65, this veteran of the Chicago blues heyday is still one of the baddest stringbenders around.

Guy's an encylopedia of licks gleaned from blues masters like his first influences, the "Three Slims"-Lightnin' Slim, Slim Harpo, and Guitar Slim. Guy's tone is anything but slim. Onstage, he can make his Stratocaster roar like an angry elephant, cry like a cat in heat, or whisper like a humminbird's wings-a lesson in dynamics that too many younger electric bluesmen don't understand. Guy has more tricks up his sleeve than Penn & Teller, teasing tornadoes of feedback from his amps and conjuring up Whammy-bar-like windstorms by squeezing the strings above the nut. He dives into his show with the passion of someone half his age, sometimes literally diving into the crowd to play while walking around.

The amazing thing about this famously flamboyant musician, who's second only to his pal B.B. King at the top of the blues pinnacle, is that he's allegedly shy offstage. He says that he has to work himself into a lather to get ready to go onstage, and he used to rely on "demon alcohol" to loosen up to play. Guy grew up poor in Louisiana, leaving for Chicago in 1957 with a longing to play great guitar. Soon he was broke, hungry, scuffling for gigs, and living on the street. He was ready to head home when Muddy Waters pulled him into a car, fed him a sandwich and, in the most famous tough-love lesson in blues history, slapped him across the face and said, "You ain't gonna go home. You're gonna stay here and play with me." Guy soon found himself playing with Muddy and then Sonny Boy Williamson, Little Walter, Jimmy Rogers, and Howlin' Wolf. But Leonard Chess kept Guy from recording his unique sound until Hendrix, Clapton, and other 60s rock guitarists made his same wild style of playing famous.

Guy forged a long-running partnership with the late harp master Junior Wells during the 60s and 70s, and their explosive artistry made both men international legends. Guy remained in Chicago during the 80s, often playing at the fabled Checkerboard Lounge and founding his own club, Buddy Guy's Legends. In the 1990s, he finally started getting some of the success he deserved. Beginning with Damn Right, I've Got the Blues, he's made a string of solid albums, though some have been a bit too slick for fans of his earlier work. His latest album, Sweet Tea, is a grungy excursion into the Mississippi hill-country sound long identified with Fat Possum label artists R. L. Burnside, T-Model Ford, and Junior Kimbrough. It's the best thing Buddy has recorded in years. Buddy's back-and badder than ever.