Not surprising when playing guitar makes your body buck and writhe, as if the ghosts of Jimi Hendrix and Stevie Ray Vaughan were wrestling inside it.
And why not collapse into a House of Blues couch if you've performed five months of mostly sold-out gigs, thanks to a sizzling debut album, Ledbetter Heights, that topped Billboard's blues chart? Or sigh at the thought of more concerts, notably opening for Bob Dylan on May 16 in Clarkston, Mich., and the Eagles on their summer European tour?
Such is life for a touring pro. But is it any life for an 18-year-old? Says a baby-faced Shepherd: ``For the next few years, I don't see having any kind of life at all.'' But the question is moot. His song has begun.
Kenny Wayne, as fans and DJs call the prodigy from Shreveport, La., is poised to become the nation's next guitar hero. Between an upswing in the popularity of blues and nods from icons such as B.B. King, who calls Shepherd ``a pure talent,'' some say the teen needs only to survive the moral and physical strains of the road ahead.
``In 15 years, he could be where Eric Clapton is today,'' suggests Ken Shepherd, Kenny Wayne's father and manager, and a veteran radio station programmer. ``But timing is everything in this business. The next year is going to be intense.''
Meaning, work, work, work.
Kenny Wayne smiles wanly at mention of his father. ``If he's not working all the time he feels something's wrong,'' he says with a soft Southern inflection. ``And he wants me to do the same thing. I guess if I cram now it'll pay off later.''
Kenny Wayne says he's ``great friends'' with Dad, who is divorced. And Ken Sr. says if Jr. quit tomorrow, ``it'd be a shame, but it'd be OK.'' Burnout is something both must watch for.
Music pundits are quick to laud Shepherd's innate talent; he started playing at age 7 and has never taken formal lessons. They also are equally quick to offer words of caution.
``Every generation wants its own guitar heroes, and Kenny Wayne is being marketed effectively with his tie to Stevie Ray Vaughan,'' a seminal influence, says Chris Morris, senior writer at Billboard. ``The time is right for an artist like this, because the blues renaissance is in good shape.
``But,'' he adds, ``Shepherd's problem is that he is the latest in a long line of people'' vying for the late Texan's guitar crown.
``How many people wind up like Stevie Ray? One or two a generation?'' says Leland Rucker, managing editor of Blues Access magazine. Kenny Wayne counters: ``There will never be another Stevie, and I'm not trying to be someone I'm not.'' Despite knowing Vaughan's songs ``note for note,'' he plays none in concert. Notes Rucker: ``To be called `the next someone' is such a tough thing. You have to find your voice.''
In fact, the missing bullet in the young guitar slinger's arsenal, critics and friends say, is that he doesn't sing. Yet.
``That works against him because listeners want the whole package: Guitarists who play, write and sing,'' says Morris.
Debra DeSalvo, associate editor of Blues Revue magazine, explains that ``It's a long tradition in blues, from Muddy Waters on up. . . . Maybe it's simply a desire to hear the performer's human voice as well as their guitar voice.''
Another up-and-coming guitarist, Eric Gales, 21, is more blunt: ``If he can sing at all, he will be pressured to sing.''
Kenny Wayne, who also writes music, is listening.
``I'm working on (singing). It's just an intimidation thing now. You get rave reviews for one thing, and are told you have to do something that you're not nearly as good at.''
He looks down, sighing. ``I'm 18. I'm not even sure my voice is through changing. But everyone says you got to sing, and you do. Especially if you want things done your way.''
Which means control. Over music and career. Right now, that's ``out of my hands. . . . They book the shows, give me an itinerary. I have a few weeks off for my birthday in June, and that's only because I insisted.'' He shakes his long blond hair, which on stage surrounds his head a la Cousin Itt.
About the only things Kenny Wayne does control now are his hands and the way they make his Fender Stratocaster howl.
At a recent House of Blues show, where Kenny Wayne was joined onstage by rock guitarist Slash, the Louisiana kid made the twenty- to fortysomething crowd pump their fists in the air when he took apart Jimi Hendrix's Voodoo Chile and put it back together with the greatest of ease.
While his sound recalls the biting, blisteringly fast work of Vaughan, it also boasts the melodic sweetness of another past hero, Duane Allman. Kenny Wayne is undoubtedly the next great white hope of blues guitar.
The musician cannot explain his talent. ``It's all kind of crazy. No one in my family is a musician. I guess it's a gift.''
Ken Shepherd remembers his son ``going through my blues records at age 7, trying to pick out the notes to a Muddy Waters song. I thought that was, um, strange.'' Kenny Wayne says he played ``mostly in my room until I was 13.'' Then a blind bluesman in New Orleans named Brian Lee brought him onstage. ``I played until 3 a.m. I knew then that I could really do this.''
Gigs at radio conventions led to a studio session, and then a contract with Giant (now Revolution) Records. After two years, 27 songs and a few drummers (``Most can't keep time if you gave them a watch,'' he quips), out popped Heights and its monster single, Deja Voodoo. This cat was out of the bag.
``If he continues to grow he'll be fantastic,'' says B.B. King, with whom Kenny Wayne has shared a bill. King dismisses the notion that the young player is hampered by being derivative and by not singing. ``He should remember his idols and just try to be himself,'' he says. ``As for singing, there are a lot of (blues artists) who sing, but not in a way that I would call singing. (Kenny) should just do what he does and the sky's the limit.''
Gales calls his peer a ``bad man,'' while drummer Chris Layton, formerly of Vaughan's trio and guest on a Heights track, calls him a ``gifted, old soul. . . . He loves Stevie's playing, but anyone great doesn't go through periods'' of imitation.
``I think he's a natural-born player,'' says Layton. ``I don't think he'll quit at 30 and go open a few restaurants.''
Kenny Wayne concurs. ``I want to be playing until I can't play anymore. I got a head start. I plan on using those years.''
In the meantime, he misses his mom, two older sisters and his buddies back in Shreveport, where fun would mean cruising in a new pickup truck he has bought but never seen.
``I'm a real `friends' kinda guy,'' he says. Sometimes friends of friends ``freak out and say, `Whoa, you got Kenny Wayne Shepherd in your living room!' But I'm not into that ego stuff. Hey, I'm just a guy like anyone else.''
Radio jocks, record labels and blues fans disagree. Time will tell if history does, too.
Last updated by John Carnell on 5/12/96