Do we really need shoes filled?

One of the tracks on Buddy Guy's most recent album (I won't say the name because the title track is the least-best song on the record, especially when sung monotone by one's boyfriend) is a Billy Joel "We Didn't Start the Fire"-esque rundown of the names who lived, breathed and sang the blues called "Who's Gonna Fill Those Shoes?"

It runs the gamut from Muddy Waters to Stevie Ray Vaughan and back again. And Sunday night at the legendary Beacon Theater in New York City, with Buddy Guy and B.B. teaming up for a mini-tour, it was proved that said loafers can NOT be filled. I proclaim that despite the presence of 9-year-old wunderkind Quinn Sullivan, who appears on the album track too.

Filling the shoes ain't as easy as picking up a guitar and hitting notes that adults three or four times your age would give their eye teeth to play. Are you gonna step into the crowd and wind your way around until you find the one person you want to knock out with your solo and then keep playing in the person's face until you get that reaction you want, kid? I saw Buddy do that to my brother about 15 years ago in Tampa ... and I didn't see it happen but I know it did out of my view on the lower level of the Beacon with some other convert at this show.

Are you gonna come out on the stage and tell us a story you have told a hundred times before and make everyone laugh like it's brand new? 'Cause B.B. can tell about women calling him "Bay" and telling him he's so cute, leading him to wonder why they didn't decades ago. After hearing a vigorous hoot from the audience, can you tell a tale about needing to run for your life when you used to hear that kind of noise as a youngster in the South? I'm guessing no.

And for all the kid's great notes, he can not match whatever magic it is that is B.B. ability to put finger to string and play one note that'll knock you into the middle of next week. The 83-year-old can also sear some soul in song, which is what he does more of during the course of the set.

But I focus on the oldest-looking 9-year-old I ever saw because so much of the show did. To be fair, Quinn self-assuredly produced some striking blues notes of the shuffle and slow blues variety and boasted an impressive one-handed playing maneuver. (OK, it was impressive the first three times and less so the last 12).

Since Buddy's set was first, he wasn't any sheets to the wind when he hit the stage and it made for a crisp set. He looked a little clinical with his medical scrubs-reminiscent attire and a closely cropped head, instead of the wild mane and polka-dotted apparel we've often seen him in.

The legendary Beacon's ability to sustain a note seemed to tickle Buddy, and he played -- and sang -- many of his notes in the softest way possible, keeping everyone straining on the edge of their respective seats to hear them. But he still made room for some lowdown dirty blues, namely "Hoochie Coochie Man" -- complete with "I didn't write it" asides amidst some of the more controversial lyrics of the song.

As Liam, 'ark and I have all seen B.B. a few times in recent years, it gave us the impetus for an off-the-cuff drinking game. Drink if B.B. says he's 83. Drink if he calls himself "Bay." Drink if he puts his head in his hand embarrassedly. Will definitely have to expand on that for the next show. Maybe we and others can count up the points and see how each show measures up.

The other thing distracting us at the show was akin to the "Seinfeld" episode in which Jerry puts a Pez dispenser on Elaine's leg at a concert recital and she cracks up. Earlier in the week I saw a Letterman show in which wacky intern Lyle -- who surprisingly showed up as patient of the week on House last week too and acquitted himself (literally) very well -- flashed Dave the peace sign upon the departure. He accented that by bending the two peace fingers and uttering a raspberry. It sounds like nothing, but I was cracking up like Elaine, esp. with the trekkie, Fonzie and other variations we concocted.

To our surprise, "Bay" did much the same set as usual, save for a new addition -- a well-received joke about not being like Michael Phelps because he doesn't smoke -- and ... for the first time on the mini-tour, the mutual admiration society of B.B. and Buddy playing together. Buddy quickly got underfoot, undercutting B.B.'s commentary with sly guitar lines and smiles. Quinn Sullivan reappeared when Buddy did and the looks passing between the two veterans' faces were almost as priceless as the kid's licks themselves.

There were more guests on hand at the Beacon as well. Ron Wood was introduced, although it might have been past the Rolling Stone's bedtime at the point that happened since he was no long around to accept the crowd's adulation, but the Sopranos' Federico Castelluccio (Furio) was and he appropriately got something of a furious reaction from the partisan Sopranos' crowd.

But again, none of these great extras could match B.B.'s notes on "Key to the Highway" or "The Thrill Is Gone." The thrill is anything BUT gone! And as long as it is -- make that the plural "they are" -- around, you can bet I'll be doing my best to see them.