Artists whose careers are measured in decades — Sinatra, McCartney, Dylan — eventually seem to inhabit an almost mythical realm of eternal fame in which their ties to the lives of ordinary beings are largely severed. Not B.B. King. Sixty years

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nginx/1.14.0 (Ubuntu) spent working with something as visceral as the blues has left him with no inclination to join the other immortals on music's Parnassus. Instead, he has chosen to remain right here with us, at the coal face of humanity, mining our rawest emotions to fuel a music that has the power to warm any...