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Sunday, Nov 8, 2009
After consulting my magic purple drawer of ticket stubs, I have the following to report.
Who is worth your time (in no particular order):
Tori Amos. She is one of my repeater artists, e.g. I never miss her when she plays within a 300 mile radius. What makes Tori compelling, beyond her music, is that she is a virtuoso. This woman was a child prodigy and could play the piano before she could read; she weaves magic with those hands. Sometimes I just sit and watch her hands fly over the keys. Amazing.
Joan Baez. I have only seen her once, but she was magic. Her golden pipes have bronzed through the years but not rusted. She has a spontaneous energy about her and the rapport with her liberal audience that cannot be matched.
Ben Folds. Complimenting his vintage rock 'n' roll playing style that emits visions of Jerry Lee Lewis, is his wry sense of humor and keen sense of observation. This can be found not only in his songs but in his banter with the audience. I have only seen him as an opening act but I was sold. When are you coming back to San Diego solo, Ben?
Who Sucked:
Tom Petty. I adore him but his passion for music is obviously waning. I had seen him three prior times to the performance that I saw last fall and the difference was startling. He was boring and uninspired. I was also next to a bunch of obnoxious, drunk, smoking seat squators that were shoved up against me.
I may get crucified for saying this but Radiohead is a bore live. Maybe you need to be drunk, I don't know, but I was bored. I am guessing that the point of it is that the music, not the musicians, are supposed to entertain you. Call me old school (at 27!) but I come from an era where there were "rock stars" and they were as much of the show as the music (seeing Guns N' Roses in 1993 on the Metallica stadium tour pops into mind as an example). Thankfully a rocket was launched from Vandenberg Airforce Base during the show and the light show from that sparked the night up a little.
I am never fed up going to shows. Quite the opposite-I still get a thrill seeing live music and talking about the experience afterwards. My friends and I saw the Knitters recently which led us to compare notes afterwards on the first time we ever saw X, the Blasters, or Dave Alvin live. Also fell in love with that great band that opened for them and went to see them again, Chatham County Line.
Totally in agreement with geargrinder. I tend to never attend arena shows-bands that attract larger crowds don't hold much appeal to me and I can skip the light shows and $50 luggage tags at the swag tables.
Bands/performers I have seen within the last year that I loved is a long list but I'll try to narrow it down to the most memorable ones;
-Yo La Tengo-always love these guys;
-Los Lobos-always put on a good show;
-Dead Meadow-my friend calls me a groupie and he is right;
-New Model Army-from my punk days-they don't get to the states much
-Sonic Youth-Daydream Nation this summer!
-David Murray-crazy talent
-Les Savy Fav-check them out-despite all the antics from their lead singer while they perform they rock hard and loud and never miss a beat;
-The Knitters-cool and Dave Alvin is in the group;
-Andy Bey-great jazz singer
-Solomon Burke-seen him a few times and he has never disappointed
-The Meters-NO's finest.Glad the originals are back;
-Robert Randolph-energetic show everytime I've seen him;
-The Ponys-ditto;
-The Thermals-can't go wrong with Bush hatin rockers
Don't want to down anyone, but the older guys who come back for a buck usually disappoint. You know who you are...
Couldn't disagree more with the previous poster. I see Petty every time he tours, and have never been disappointed.
On the other hand, Black Crows opened for Petty a year ago, and I concur that they are way past their prime, if indeed they ever had one. Bad songs, muddy sound, and unintelligible caterwauling.
Other sure things: Leo Kottke, Loudon Wainwright III, Elvis Costello, Nick Lowe and Ray Davies. Kottke and Wainwright could succeed in entertaining a crowd with their between-song stories and wry observations alone.
And finally, at the risk of a royal flaming, I saw Rod Stewart for the first time this year and was totally blown away.
I'm younger than my chronological age (mid-40s), but I've been going to shows for nearly 30 years, and having seen enough live music to be a flat-out snob about it, I wouldn't care if I ever went to a big-box concert again. The promoters (and artists, to some extent) have totally sucked the life out of the experience: Ticketmaster "service" charges; excess ticket prices, period; ripoff parking charges; being herded like cattle through pens and searched like criminals; lameass opening acts; ripoff concessions and souvenirs; sitting so far away that you need a damned video screen to see; the obligatory 1-or-2-song encore and back out on the streets. The positive energy has been dissipated, if there was any to start with. Fuck all that. I can save hundreds (unless I'm playing hold 'em) by sitting at home or doing something constructive while listening to the CD.
I can only think of a handful of major concerts I've been to that have been memorable: Elton John in Central Park with a half-million of my closest friends in September 1980; a four-hour Springsteen Christmas show 12/18/80 at Madison Square Garden; seeing Bowie from the 10th row on his '83 tour in Hartford; seeing the Dead from the 9th row in Hartford that fall (it's Vol. 6 of "Dick's Picks"); Neil Young & Crazy Horse raising the Hartford Civic Center crowd to fever pitch in the early days of the Gulf War; and Brian Wilson doing three sets in July 2000 under a tent at Mohegan Sun Casino -- the second set being "Pet Sounds" front-to-back, plus "Good Vibrations," backed by a 54-piece orchestra. Five or six shows out of dozens. To be put it in crass corporate terms, not a good return on my investment.
I've had a much, much better time in clubs. They're cheaper (well, most of the time), the energy often isn't dissipated in close quarters, and it's a show, not a concert, meaning you're not sitting there on your hands most of the time -- you're drinking (or maybe not) and just plain moving your ass, sweating like swine, bobbing your head until you suffer whiplash. I've done that more than enough times to make me a spoiled musical brat -- The Fleshtones (my favorites, woefully undernoticed since 1976), The Reducers (the Connecticut band that's been together, and criminally undernoticed, since 1978), NRBQ, Black 47, The Swingin' Neckbreakers, The Lyres, The A-Bones and a truckload of other bands over the years. That time we left New Haven in a blizzard to see The Mummies' raucous farewell show at CBGB in February '93 comes to mind, too. So does U2 at Toad's Place in New Haven in May '81, just after "Boy" came out -- they were really full of fire and sweat then, without the pomp, as most of us from album-rock suburbia were having our new wave debutante ball of sorts. (Plus, I stood from here to my monitor in front of Adam Clayton.) Or Dead Kennedys shows in the early '80s where the intensity in the pit reached tornado level as Biafra egged them on. Or Dick Dale on his first tour, at Maxwell's in Hoboken, N.J., 10/8/93, making me rethink the way I viewed rock. (After 15 years of loudhardfast and sloppy, Dick was much louder, just as fast and white-tornado clean.) Or Beau Jocque (RIP) & the Zydeco Hi-Rollers on a frantic, mad-sweaty Tuesday night in the summer of '95 at the Rock'n'Bowl in New Orleans. Or the electric thrill of not only seeing '60s bands reunite successfully over the years (Richard & the Young Lions, The Remains, The Monks, ? and the Mysterians), but being close enough to touch them. Well, at least shake hands and chat with them.
But there's something to be said about intimacy and quiet moments in clubs, too; numerous Jonathan Richman shows attest to that. So does a Graham Parker solo show at Toad's in March '89. And one of the greatest shows of all time, in terms of chemistry between artist and audience, was Ray Davies at Toad's 10/22/95. It was the final show of his first storyteller tour -- a sit-down show, which was rare there -- and he was met with a barrage of love from a hardcore Kinks kontingent. He sensed the mood of the crowd (korrektly), and since it was the final show of the tour, he returned the love by pulling out a bunch of songs he hadn't played in probably 30 years ("Animal Farm," "Rosie Won't You Please Come Home.") It became a legendary show among Kinks faithful; some of us who were there still tingle and start smiling warm smiles over that one. Nothing pre-fab, over-rehearsed, overpriced, overamped or lethargic about that show. THAT was a night I'd gladly pay big-box ripoff prices to see again ...
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