Nearly four months ago, acclaimed bluesman Tab Benoit opened his “Soul Of The Swamp” Tour with back-to-back Colorado shows: May 22 at the Phil Long Music Hall in Colorado Springs and May 23 at Washington’s in Fort Collins. After the Washington’s show, I told him outside that we’d see him again when the tour circled back to Denver in September. And here we are.
On Thursday, Benoit brought the tour back to Colorado with a terrific show at the Gothic Theatre in Englewood. From the first note to the last, he, bassist Corey Duplechin, and drummer Terrence Higgins delivered a standout performance that energized the packed room.
This was the ninth Benoit show I’ve covered since 2022. Most artists would struggle to hold my interest that many times in so short a span, much less give me something new to write about, but Benoit is different. I’ve seen him three nights in a row and left with a distinct experience each time.
Benoit does not set out to make each performance different; he simply refuses to make them identical. Instead of following a fixed setlist, he delivers the expected fan favorites and draws from his deep catalog to shape the rest. When he plays multiple shows in one area, he can spread those essentials across the run and let the remaining choices follow the moment.
To be clear, Benoit has plenty of essentials. He’s been playing the blues for nearly four decades, releasing his debut album, Nice and Warm, in 1993 and his most recent, I Hear Thunder, in 2024. In all, he has released eighteen full-length albums, not counting the 2012 “Best Of” collection. That is a deep catalog, with no shortage of must-hear songs.
For example, take “Nothing Takes The Place Of You.” Though not a Benoit original—it’s a cover of Toussaint McCall’s mid-’60s song—he recorded it for his 2011 album Medicine, and it has been a live staple ever since. McCall’s version is wonderful, but Benoit turns it into a living, breathing masterpiece, with soulful vocals that draw audible reactions, soaring guitar solos, and a mood that makes you want to close your eyes and let the song wash over you. On Thursday, it appeared second in the set.
Then there is Medicine’s title track, which has held a place of honor in every Benoit show I’ve covered, either as the opener or the closer. On Thursday, true to form, it opened the show.
The essentials kept coming: “Shelter Me,” “Darkness,” “Muddy Bottom Blues,” the always show-stopping “Boat Launch Baby,” and two newer standouts from I Hear Thunder, “Why, Why” and the title track. They appeared as songs five, seven, six, three, eight, and the encore, respectively.
(The full setlist, in order, appears in the photo gallery below.)
After seeing and writing about Benoit so often, finding fresh ways to describe the experience can be difficult. Eventually, the superlatives wear thin. Fortunately, Thursday’s performance made the task easier.
Looking back on all the Benoit reviews I’ve written, I can say with complete confidence that this was my favorite setlist of the bunch. That is, of course, entirely subjective. I base it on what I call the “I Wish” test: after a show, I ask myself whether there was anything I wish had been played, but was absent. There almost always is, no matter the band or artist. On the drive home Thursday, I asked myself that question. The answer was nothing.
Benoit also made my job easier with the strength of his performance. I cannot say with certainty that it was the best I’ve ever seen from him, but I cannot recall one better. His vocals were spot on—powerful, soulful, or playful exactly when each moment demanded it. On “Nothing Takes The Place Of You” and “Darkness,” I did not just hear the pain and angst; I felt them. Stunning.
And then there is his playing. Benoit is the most authentic guitarist I’ve ever seen or heard. His minimalist rig—his trademark 1972 Thinline Telecaster and no pedals—is as raw as it gets. You might expect that setup to limit him, but you would be wrong. Every sound he draws from it—thundering riffs, haunting blues solos that seem to grieve in real time, and tense, percussive passages where the guitar stutters and chokes as if struggling to speak—comes from astonishing skill. They simply do not come any better.
Speaking of musicians who do not come any better, bassist Corey Duplechin deserves a shoutout. He is the classic bass player: off to the side, away from the spotlight, locked in with the drummer and keeping everything on track. But his work on “Shelter Me” deserves special mention; his bass line is as central to the song as Benoit’s vocals and guitar.
Thursday’s 12-song, 95-minute set closed with a one-song encore: the title track from 2024’s I Hear Thunder. As he often does for encores, Benoit invited members of the opening act—guitarist Zac Schulze and bassist Ant Greenwell—to join him for an off-the-chain jam. Schulze and Benoit traded blistering solos, then fiery runs, before joining forces. Not to be outdone, Greenwell and Duplechin launched into a twin-bass solo that had the crowd jumping, moving, and cheering. By the explosive finale, the audience seemed equally exhausted and exhilarated.
The encore was a reminder that Benoit is generous with the music, with the moment, and with the people sharing the stage. That generosity extends beyond the performance itself. The openness that makes Benoit willing to stretch a song, share the spotlight, and follow the moment onstage carries over after the house lights come up. For him, the show does not seem entirely finished when the encore ends; it continues in the way he treats the people who came to hear it.
As much as I admire Benoit’s gifts as a musician, vocalist, and performer, I may value most the respect and appreciation he shows the people who come to see him play. After every show—at least every one I’ve attended—he stands outside his tour bus with his customary celebratory cigar, ready to meet fans. No VIP upgrade required. If you want to meet Tab, talk with him, or get an autograph or photo, he makes himself available. He is gracious, accommodating, and genuinely kind.
After Thursday’s show, Benoit was there again, surrounded by a steadily growing group of fans. When two young women in wheelchairs approached, he knelt beside them and put his arm around them for photos. There was no handler and no security presence—just Tab and anyone who wanted to stop by. He wears his love for his fanbase openly and expresses it with genuine warmth. I’ve seen these post-show gatherings last well over an hour, ending only when someone from his crew says the bus is loaded and ready. Then he is off to the next town to do it all again.
Story and photos by Rick Witt www.rickwittphotography.com
