Sad news, at the end of last week, that BB King, one of the greatest Blues guitarists of all time (many would say the greatest) had died at the venerable age of 89.

His life reads like a classic tale of the Blues, born into poverty in rural Mississippi in 1925 and, at the age of 21, leaving home to seek fortune and fame, like many before him, on the streets of Memphis, Tennessee.

Like other black musicians he had to endure racial prejudice and segregation which for many years meant a denial of access to the whites-only theatres and concert venues which would have allowed him to develop even faster than he did. He once said that “Playing the Blues is like having to be black twice” and it wasn’t until the “British invasion” of music in the 1960s that his career really took off without restriction.

He was born Riley B. King but, once in Memphis, he earned the musical moniker “The Beale Street Blues Boy” (after the street where he played as a busker) and then just plain old BB (Blues Boy) King.

It is my good fortune to be in Memphis at the moment and I will most certainly visit the bar on Beale Street that bears his name and will there raise a glass to the memory of a true giant of the music world.