Tag: concerts

I became an Etta James fan in kind of a backwards way. Being quite the dedicated Eurythmics fan back in the 80’s, I even paid attention to their quirky little side projects. One of these was the soundtrack for a 1989 movie called Rooftops, which I never saw but was apparently fairly awful. Dave Stewart did some songs for it, and one of these was a track called “Avenue D”, on which Etta was the vocalist. I didn’t really know who she was, aside from the fact that I recognized her name and knew she’d been around a while. I did read a little article saying something like, “Dave Stewart does his best work when paired with a soulful singer, and James certainly fills the bill.” I was at NYU at the time — I actually remember listening to the 45 at Tower Records, liking the song, and buying it. I really dug her performance on that song. I looked into her a little more (which in those pre-Internet days meant just paying attention to what records of hers were in the stores), and found that she had done a comeback album the previous year called Seven Year Itch. A friend and I split the cost of the cassette, and I really liked that too. I bought her next couple of records, then lost track of her for a while.

10 years or so later, I became conscious of “At Last”, again in a backwards way — Stevie did a cover of it at a benefit concert where everybody sang standards. I fell in love with the song then, and heard Etta’s version later in the movie Pleasantville, and loved it again. Still, I never got around to pursuing her further, until this past Christmas, when I put The Essential Etta James on my Amazon wish list, and received it. I’d been listening to it a lot in the car when I heard that she was coming to Boulder in concert. I decided that I needed to go, and I found a fantastic ticket online: 2nd row aisle seat.

When I got there, I was thrilled to find that it was indeed one of the best seats in the house. I had a perfect sightline to everything, and was wonderfully close. There was an unannounced opening act, which was a drag — I’d asked Laura to cover childcare so I could get to the show on time. If I’d known, I’d certainly have come much later. Anyhow, after that, stagehands started setting up Etta’s stage, including a big comfy leather seat with the word “Etta!” inscribed on the front. At 9:00, her band filed onstage, along with somebody who didn’t introduce himself. He greeted the crowd, said “Miss James is in the house!”, and then introduced The Roots Band. (Not The Roots, who appear on Jimmy Fallon’s talk show, but rather just a bunch of touring musicians.) It was cool — a horn section, two guitarists, keyboard, bass, and drums. So then The Roots Band proceeds to vamp for 10 minutes.

Finally, Etta herself comes out, sits on the chair, and opens with “Come To Mama,” a song from Seven Year Itch that I’d known previously when Bob Seger recorded it (as “Come To Papa.”) In Seger’s hands, the song has a clear sexual subtext. Coming from James, the subtext becomes supertext, with lyrics like “If you feel like a horse chomping at the bit / Call my number, 777-6969, I’ll get you a fix.” But lyrics aside, OH MY GOD. It was easily the most sexual performance I’d ever seen, and I’ve seen both Tori Amos and Liz Phair (the latter of whom suffered a wardrobe malfunction that exposed her bare breast to the audience for the better part of a song.) Etta sang the entire song while absolutely pawing herself, and I mean her entire body, giving special emphasis to lines like “I’ve got your favorite toy / Guaranteed to bring you joy.” We are talking about a 71-year-old woman here, a grandmother, whose son is actually in the band, as her drummer. It was, to say the least, a little shocking. I wasn’t really bothered by it (though as a friend of mine pointed out, would you want to watch your mother doing that night after night?), but I was pretty floored. She continued in that vein the entire show. She never stood up, but her hands never rested much either. When singing “I’d Rather Go Blind,” she elaborated: “Sittin here thinkin’ of your kiss, and your… mmmmm, you all know what I’m talkin’ about.” And the song after that was called, “I Want To Ta-Ta You, Baby.”

While Etta’s libido has never waned (at least if her stage shtick is to be believed), I’m afraid the same can’t be said for her mind. For one thing, she clearly thought she was in Canada. “It’s been a long time since I’ve played in Canada!” she said. “I’m so happy to be back!” I thought she was joking at first, but then in the next song, she introduced her guitarist with, “This is Joshua. He’s Canadian, too!” She also introduced “I’d Rather Go Blind” by saying, “Here’s a song my sons and I wrote together.” Now, that song was first recorded in 1969, when James was 31 years old. The Internet doesn’t seem to want to tell me when her sons were born, but it does tell me that the song is co-credited to Ellington Jordan, not Donto and Sametto James. Oh, and then there was the long introduction where she said she was going to do a song by one of the baddest chicks of all time, Janis Joplin, and that song is called, “You Can Leave Your Hat On.” Written by Randy Newman. In 1972. Two years after Joplin died. All I could do was shake my head and laugh.

Her voice, though, still sounds amazing. She kept stealing glances at the lyric sheet next to her, but that didn’t stop her from nailing every single note. She also had a terrific stage presence, despite remaining seated the entire time. She was always playfully, bawdily bantering with the audience, even as she was performing songs. In “You Can Leave Your Hat On,” after she sang the line, “Suspicious minds are talking / They’re trying to tear us apart,” she would very clearly mouth the words “FUCK THEM.” It was hilarious.

Unfortunately, while the music was great, I didn’t get to hear it for very long — at 9:55, she said good night, and walked off stage, only to immediately drive back on astride a little red Rascal scooter. She sat back down in the chair and sang “At Last”, sounding phenomenal. And then… that was it. She left, stage lights came up, just an hour after the band had come on. That was very disappointing to me, as the ticket hadn’t been cheap. I quite understand that it’s probably hard on her to play very long, but if the length of your show is going to be much less than is conventionally accepted, your ticket price should be well below the standard too.

All in all, it was one of the strangest shows I’d ever seen. I loved the music, and was greatly amused by the rest. But I sure wish I’d known to come late, and been ready to leave early.

The crowd at the Boulder Theater on Wednesday night was largely composed of a) hipsters and b) young gay men. There is a fair amount of overlap between these groups. Thick glasses, retro fashions, and big sideburns were much in evidence.

The show was a lot more like a recital than a rock and roll concert. All acoustic instruments, all players seated. From house left to house right they were:

Shirley Simms (vocals only)
Claudia Gonson (piano & vocals)
John Woo (guitar)
Sam Davol (cello)
Stephin Merritt (bouzouki & vocals)

Gonson did most of the talking, and she did it in this very spacey, random, funny persona, which she blamed on lack of oxygen. Merritt threw in the occasional deadpan remark. There was quite a bit of talking between the songs, which I enjoyed very much. A dominant theme was the invention of narrative connections among the songs in the setlist — for instance, after “The Nun’s Litany”: “And why did she enter the abbey? Well, you see, one year earlier…” leading to “All My Little Words.” There was also quite a bit of comedy interplay, like so:

GONSON: This next song is about Stephin’s dog, whose ears are… huge. They’re like… they’re as big as his head. Would you agree, Stephin?
MERRITT: His ears are *part* of his head.
GONSON: Yeah, but… you know what I… well anyway, it’s called “Walking My Gargoyle.” One, two, three, four…

For the rest of the show, chihuahua references ensued. “Let’s pretend the narrator of this song is also a chihuahua! All the characters are chihuahuas — then it could be made into a number one movie. Maybe if they remade Pieces Of April with an all-chihuahua cast…” (Merritt did the soundtrack for Pieces Of April, the mention of which also led to much musing on what Oliver Platt is doing these days. Quoth Merritt: “One of the worst things about being on tour is that sometimes you want to look something up on IMDb, but you can’t, because you’re on stage!”)

Even though their new album is all heavy distortion (hence its title) and fuzz, everything sounded totally clean at the concert. It was beautiful. All the cleverness was out there to shine, and the sad and lovely parts were heart-piercing. Apparently Merritt suffers from hyperacuity in his left ear, meaning he’s quite sensitive to certain frequencies, including applause. I could see him hold his ear whenever the clapping began, and he kept slipping a silver earplug in and out, including the time when Gonson was rambling to him about some topic, and after a couple of minutes he pulled out his earplug and said, “What?”

The set list was great too — a healthy mix of old and new, Mag Fields and side bands (Gothic Archies, 6ths, etc). I was thrilled to have some of my all-time favorites included — “No One Will Ever Love You”; “Yeah! Oh Yeah!”; “Drive On, Driver”; “Grand Canyon”; “The Book Of Love.”

All in all, a very good time was had by me. Too bad I had to go to work the next day when I should really have been sleeping!

My first exposure to Marillion came in 1985, when a local radio station started playing “Kayleigh” semi-regularly. I adored that song, and my friend Kevin was a fan of the band, so I taped the Misplaced Childhood album from him. Well, I liked that album enough that when its sequel Clutching At Straws came out in 1987, I bought it right away. I even had a big poster of the album cover in my room, thanks to my job-at-the-time with a record store. Both those albums stayed on heavy rotation throughout my high school years. The driving, Who-ish music was great, but what I loved the most were the poetic lyrics, passionate intensity, and thrilling voice of the lead singer, a chap who went by the handle “Fish”. (His real name is Derek Dick — I guess I’d pick a pseudonym too.)

Sadly, after Clutching, Fish left the band, and I stopped paying attention. Marillion released more stuff with a new singer, but it didn’t captivate me, and as far as I knew, Fish disappeared completely. If only the Internet had been around in those days, I’d have learned soon enough that he’d done no such thing. Instead, he came out with a solo album a mere 3 years later, but I never saw that album — Fish is Scottish, and I guess as a solo artist he didn’t have a big US distribution deal the way Marillion did. He then went on to release eight more solo albums, the latest of which, 13th Star, came out earlier this year. I never bought any of these, even once I knew they existed, because as imports, they all carried high price tags. Since post-band solo work is often inferior, it felt like too much money to spend for the risk involved. However, when I saw he was touring the US for the first time in 10 years and playing a lot of late Marillion material, I decided I needed to go. Even better, I figured out that I could download 13th Star from iTunes for almost half of what Amazon wants for it. Thanks, Internet!

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If you don’t know who Northern State is, and you very well might not, here’s the lowdown. Northern State is an indie hip-hop group with an unusual composition. They’re three white college-educated women from Long Island (their name is after the Northern State Parkway, a Long Island highway) who’ve made three ridiculously fun records. Think of the Go-Go’s crossed with the Beastie Boys. Their handles are Hesta Prynn, Sprout, and Spero. They write rhymes like this: “My name is Sprout, née / Now call me Tasia Mae / And don’t miss the buffet at my birthday soiree / I’m a workaday gourmet / I sauté and flambé and purée / from Broadway through Norway and the UK / If you like my wordplay then enjoy my essay / And forget the thruway cos we rep the parkway / And I’ve got cachet and a blue beret / And I’ll wear it while I ballet in your chalet.”

I came across them in 2003, pretty much by accident, and have become a big fan. This is sort of an odd thing. I’m basically a rock and roll guy — rap really never interested me much at all (MC Frontalot’s “It Is Pitch Dark” being an IF-geeky exception.) Somehow, though, Northern State captivated me from the first time I heard them — the fuller story is here. Anyway, living in Colorado as I do, I had to wait until November of 2007 to see them live, when they came to Boulder opening for Tegan and Sara. It was worth the wait, though — I had a marvelous time at the show, and vowed to see them anytime they came here. Just this month, that opportunity came again as they swung through on a headlining tour. That night was even better than the first, so much so that I want to be sure to capture some of those memories in writing. It’s really one of those journal entries that’s more for me than anybody else, but somebody might enjoy it.

A bit of warning: I can get rather gushy when I write about concerts, and in this case in particular I find it hard to make my prose warm enough to convey the emotion without slopping into a sentimentality overdose. In fact, because there was so much warm and friendly contact between us, it can sound so enthusiastic in places that it almost seems as if I’m mocking them or they’re mocking me. This is not the case. So if you read any of this and wonder how much sincerity was really present, the answer is: a lot.

The first time I saw them, the crowd was clearly there for Tegan and Sara, who were the headliners after all. T&S’s audience is predominantly young lesbians, so I was pretty out-of-place in that room. (Enh, I’m used to it — I’ve been attending Melissa Etheridge and Indigo Girls concerts since the late Eighties.) It was a general admission show at The Boulder Theater, and there wasn’t a huge press of people to see the opening act, so I was able to get fairly close to the stage when NS came on. I was hoping they’d be as fun on stage as they are on their records, but they exceeded my expectations by being even MORE fun live. Striding to their marks accompanied by the opening chords from “Eye Of The Tiger”, they immediately broke into “Mic Tester” and then rattled off a great string of songs from their last two albums, accompanied by drummer Seth Johnson and guitarist Katie Cassidy. They had the dance routines, the stage presence, the audience interaction, the banter… man, it was great. The only slight disappointment was that they didn’t perform anything from their first album, which is still a favorite of mine. Well, somebody did shout out “Trinity” and they played about a minute of it before giving up. Better than nothing, but still a touch unsatisfying.

I was dancing away to NS’s highly danceable songs, and knew those songs better than most of the people around me. Consequently, I caught the eye of all three of them at different times, and in fact at one point they singled me out from the stage. They were telling a story about one of their songs being featured on their fave TV show, Grey’s Anatomy, when Spero said, “You guys, there’s somebody in the audience who looks just like McDreamy! Check it out!” She points at me. I should note at this point that according to me, I look nothing at all like Patrick Dempsey, aside from the fact that I am male and unshaven. It was a flattering comparison, though! After the set was over, I headed to their merch booth, and got to meet Sprout, who was hanging out there selling t-shirts, CDs, and so on. We had a lovely conversation where I told her that I’d written two fan letters in my life, one of which was to them. (The other was to Garry Trudeau. Unlike Trudeau, Sprout wrote back.) I also saw Spero a little while later; she said “McDreamy!” and gave me a big hug. I demurred at the comparison, to which she said, “Hey, you look like McDreamy. It’s okay.” (Once again: I do not resemble Patrick Dempsey.)

I didn’t really care much about Tegan & Sara, so I headed up to the balcony for their set. I walked past the NS booth a few more times on the way to the bar or the bathroom, and always got a friendly wave. I didn’t really interact with Hesta that much, though Sprout introduced me to her just as I was on my way out the door. It was a great night, whose moral was: if you want to have personal contact with a band, adopt an indie up-and-comer and be the person who knows their songs when they’re opening for someone else.

Of course I subscribe to the band’s newsletter, and so was hip to the news that they’d be going on a headlining tour in Spring, including a stop in Denver. The venue was a place I’d never been before, a hilarious bowling alley/bar/restaurant/club called The Falcon. The show started at 9:30, and there were two opening acts, so I was able to give Dante a bath, put him to bed, find my way to the venue, park, and still only miss about half of the first opening act, a local band called Girl Named Kyle. They were actually pretty good, exceeding my (fairly low) expectations. Something amusing about the show was that I just wandered in — nobody was taking tickets, or selling tickets, or anything, near as I could tell. Maybe because I was “early”? Anyway, I’d paid on the web, so I wasn’t worried much about it.

After GNK’s set, I headed to the bar to order both a drink and some food. On the way, I recognized Hesta walking through. I gave her a wave and said, “Have a good show!” She seemed pleased (and a bit surprised.) I saw Spero a bit later, but she was walking so purposefully I didn’t try to catch her attention. I also saw Sprout at the bar buying a drink — if I’d been thinking a bit quicker on my feet I’d’ve offered to buy it for her, but alas, I was not. (Hey, it was a $12 show — well below what I generally spend on a concert — so I was feeling flush.) I finally saw the ticket-taker guy and got a bracelet so that I could order a drink. The food there was surprisingly good — I had a spinach salad with grilled veggies that was a long way from “bowling alley food.” I ate it during the next opening act, a fairly unexciting band called Dri (not, I should note, D.R.I.) whose lead singer sounded a lot like Patti Smith on heavy tranquilizers.

After Dri finished, I made my way to the stage, stopping at the merch booth to see Sprout, who gave me a big hug and said, “I’m so glad you’re here!” (So weird to be writing that about somebody who, in my world, is a rock star.) We talked for a couple of minutes, and then she started getting ready for the show. I found a good spot in front of the stage and watched the instruments get set up. One of the many things I loved seeing at this show was that the band was right there helping the crew set stuff up. I generally go to shows where you don’t see the band at all until the first notes are played. Finally, the show started, once again opening with “Mic Tester.” From there, my memories turn into a bunch of spiky highlights:

• At one point, Spero asked if anybody in the crowd had a tissue she could use, and when somebody passed one up, Hesta said, “You have just earned the right to ask Northern State a personal question!” The girl (wearing a “WHERE THE HELL IS LONGMONT?” t-shirt) couldn’t really think of a question to ask, and then the band just opened up the floor for questions, mentioning that they’d heard Dolly Parton does this. (Sprout also joked that they were going to paste rhinestones all over their instruments a la Parton.) Hesta cautioned, “Don’t ask which ones of us are gay, though, because we don’t answer that question.” Sadly, the questions were lame, as they often are in Q&A sessions: “How many albums do you have?” (Three, and a 4-song demo EP.) “Are you going to play Sucka Mofo?” (Yes.) “Do you like my hair?” (Uh, sure.) I raised my hand and Hesta said, “This gentleman who has been dancing all night can ask us anything he likes!” I asked whether they were going to play something from Dying In Stereo, their first album. The answer: yes! Hooray! Sure enough, later in the set they played “At The Party”. Yay!
• The set leans very heavily towards their most recent album, Can I Keep This Pen? — they played 10 songs out of its 14.
• At one point, Sprout indicates the people in the front row to my left, all women, and says, “I just want to say, this Ladies Night vibe we’ve got going on in the front here is very cool.” (Spero & Hesta play and sing a few notes of “Ladies Night” by Kool & The Gang.) “And of course all respect to you, sir.” (Gesturing to me and smiling.)
• They did “Girl For All Seasons”, a body-image & empowerment anthem that I really love. After the next song:
  

  SPERO: I just want to mention that it’s easy to get up here and be thinking about hitting your cue and playing the right notes, but Sprout, I was just finding your lyrics in ‘Girl For All Seasons’ really touching tonight.
  SPROUT: Aw, thanks!
  HESTA: Yeah, it’s one thing to make a song in the studio and put it on an album, but we’ve been touring the country playing it live, and there’s always some dude in the audience shouting out “I’ll be your girl for all seasons!” along with us. [All three of them gesture to me.] It’s really inspiring — it’s the kind of thing that puts me back in touch with my feminist politics.
  SPROUT: And you know the sad thing? Even though I wrote those lyrics, I find them really hard to live up to. Especially when you’re touring, it’s really hard to eat healthy and get enough rest, and I just start to feel so ugly. I remember looking at pictures from a recent gig and deciding that I was going to issue a lifetime ban to a particular pair of pants, when I just thought, “Man, I’m such a hypocrite to get up night after night and sing Girl For All Seasons and then sit around feeling horrible about my appearance.” [This is followed by scattered shouts from the crowd of “You’re beautiful!”]

• The show itself was SO MUCH FUN. Their albums make me just unreasonably happy, and seeing them live even more so.
• At the end of the show, they announced that they’d all be hanging out at their merch table, and encouraged everybody to come over and meet them. (There were maybe 60-75 people in the audience.) I kind of hung out across from the table to keep out of the press of people. I watched as NS signed stuff, chatted it up, took pictures, etc. with everybody. At one point, Spero broke away from the meet & greet, came over to me and gave me a big hug. “I was so happy to see your face!” she said. Gosh, I can’t tell you how happy this made me. I have so much affection for all three of them, and it was wonderful to feel like they had some affection for me as well. I told her how much I loved their records, and she said, “I really appreciate that, because we work so hard on them. We’re really committed to never putting out crap. I mean, people might have their favorites, but don’t want anybody to ever say, ‘Wow, that record SUCKED compared to their other ones.'” After a few minutes, she went back to the rest of the fans.
• As that crowd action died down, Hesta came over to talk to me. She asked me my name, I told her, and she said, “I’m Julie. That’s my Christian name. Or rather, my Jewish name.” Woo, real name basis! She thanked me for being so enthusiastic, and said it means a lot to them. “We had a really hard day today — it was a long and stressful drive, and we’re here at the bowling alley, and it was just so great to see people like you having so much fun at the show.” I told her that if I made her happy, that’s great, because their albums give me so much pleasure that I’m thrilled if I can channel some positive energy back to them.
• After the crowd thinned out, I walked over to the merch table. Sprout asked if perhaps I needed a t-shirt. Honestly, the t-shirts they’re selling on this tour are just not anything I could ever see myself wearing (though I did buy the extremely fun button pack — 4 pins, one of each of their faces and another reading “Can I Keep This Pin?”) Anyway, in the early days they used to have this great black shirt with just a “Northern State” logo on the front. (Here’s one, albeit in brown.) I’ve always regretted not buying one when they were available, so I decided to ask if they had any left. Sprout said, “We have some, but the only size left is XXL. It’d be ridiculously huge on you.” I assured her that XXL is exactly what I’d want anyway — I wear t-shirts for years and years, and smaller ones shrink too much too soon. So Hesta gave me her email and told me to set it up with her that way. I also asked if Sprout & Hesta would sign a poster for me (Spero was over on stage, taking down the equipment). They did, very nicely, and I got out my wallet to pay. Then Hesta stopped me:
  

  HESTA: Paul, Paul, no. You don’t have to pay.
  ME: But– what? No! I want to support you guys!
  HESTA: You do support us. Seriously, don’t pay.

  Have I mentioned that I love them? Hesta gave me a Sharpie and told me to go over and have Spero sign too.

• So I approached Spero, and she signed the poster. Then she noticed that I was wearing a Stevie Nicks shirt (from her 1998 Enchanted Tour) “Oh no you didn’t!” she said. “I love Stevie Nicks!” Well there’s something we have in common! So we had a great conversation about Stevie. Spero had never seen her live, so I got to tell her a little bit about what kinds of events those concerts are. I even reminded her that she’d name-checked Stevie in “Signal Flow,” a track from their first album: “Can I get a little sympathy, like Stevie Nicks / Six-three-one to the five-one-six / Grew up misunderstood in the hills of Dix”
• I don’t think my feet were touching the ground when I left. What a fantastic night.

I became a Rilo Kiley fan when I heard “Portions For Foxes” a couple of times on my Launchcast station. I loved that song in so many ways — it became one of my favorites of the year, and when I bought the album, I was delighted to find that pretty much the entire thing was great. I resolved then that the next time they came to Denver, I’d see them.

Well, on Sept. 11th they arrived, at a little theater called the Ogden. Unfortunately, they were touring in support of their new album, which I think is Just Okay. The musicianship is still good, and Jenny Lewis’s voice still sounds great, but above all it’s lyrics that I care about, and in that department this album is bland as bland can be. In addition, they seem to have shifted away from indie rock and alt.country to a more generic AOR sound, with disco accents. Not that there’s anything wrong with that sound, mind, but it’s a little less exciting than what they’d been doing previously. Just about any song on More Adventurous is more interesting than the entirety of Under The Blacklight. Really, any verse of “Portions For Foxes” is more interesting than the whole new album.

So their set was focused heavily on new songs, which made the show a little more blah than I wanted it to be. On the other hand, I enjoyed the old stuff quite a lot, and I thought the band in general sounded great and had a good stage presence. There’s a strong meme going around the rock critic world that Rilo Kiley is the new Fleetwood Mac (my taste seems to be consistent, if nothing else), and while I think the comparison is pretty overblown, I could see some similarities at the show. Blake Sennett is like a cross between Lindsey Buckingham and a movie college professor, essaying wild guitar solos into the crowd while dressed in tweeds and bow tie. And Jenny Lewis may not have much on Stevie Nicks lyrically, but she’s got a great voice and she does play an instrument.

The most exciting part of the show for me, though, was the first opening band, a San Diego group called Grand Ole Party (a terrible name, but whatever.) They set up with a guitarist and bass player on either side of a short drum kit. The woman who sat in the center playing the drums was also the lead singer (using a head mic a la Britney Spears), and wow, what a singer. Her name is Kristin Gundred, and she was like one part Moe Tucker, three parts Grace Slick. Her voice is just astonishing, and throughout their set I kept finding that my mouth was literally hanging open. I even bought their CD at the merch booth after the set, which is something I don’t think I’ve ever done before for an opening band. Gundred herself was selling them, and I asked her if she hears the Grace Slick comparison a lot. She said, “well, I was obsessed with Grace when I was 13-14 years old, so it’s not a big surprise.” Keep an eye on this woman — she’s incredibly talented, and if there’s any justice in the world, she’s going to be a big success. (Assuming she doesn’t somehow self-destruct, that is.)

I’m not what you’d call a hardcore Police fan, but I have all their albums and enjoy them quite a bit. I followed Sting’s solo career for a while too, but hopped off the train around the Brand New Day album, as the music had finally passed my boredom threshold. When I heard that the band was getting back together, I was excited. Could it be that the long-gone rock & roll Sting was returning at last? I was just a shade too young to see them back in their 80s heyday, so this could be my chance to see one of the few bands I really like and haven’t yet seen in concert.

I hoped the tour would come to Denver. And it did! With the top tickets going for TWO HUNDRED AND TWENTY-FIVE DOLLARS. Two hundred and twenty-five freaking dollars. Probably more like $245 after Ticketmaster finishes extracting its pound of flesh. I got depressed when I heard this. Sure, I’d love to see The Police, but I am not in a place in my life where I have $250 to drop for them. I decided that I couldn’t see them after all, but I did not feel at peace with the decision. As the show date got closer, I got more and more bummed, feeling like I was going to miss the opportunity to do something I really wanted to do through circumstances I couldn’t control.

Then, somehow, something broke the spell. I think it was partly having a fantastic time seeing Stevie Nicks at Red Rocks on May 28th, partly balancing my checkbook, partly taking some steps to lift myself from the minor funk I’d been in. Anyway, I decided I was being ridiculous. No, I’m not going to spend $250 to see The Police, but I could still go! I’d gotten so used to sitting in good seats that I’d somehow forgotten it was possible to enjoy a concert from anywhere else.

So I determined that I could buy one of the $90 or $50 tickets and be perfectly happy. First, though, I thought I’d check out eBay and see if I could get a good deal there. Happily, the band chose to play 2 shows here, which attenuated the demand enough to make it a buyer’s market for secondhand tickets. I ended up paying $75.60 for one of the $250 seats! And that’s including shipping! Huzzah!

So I went, and had a great time. There was reason to be a bit wary. Not only had Sting veered well into dullness (for me), but the last thing The Police recorded was the wretched “Don’t Stand So Close To Me ’86”, which took a good song and vampirically sucked all the life out of it. The possibility existed that the entire show would be slow, jazz-inflected reinterpretations of Police hits. Happily, this was not the case. It was a rock & roll band on the stage last night, and I’m so glad I got out of my own way so I could see them.

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I went to see Bob Seger in concert last week. This came as something of a surprise to a few of my friends, who don’t share my appreciation for Bob. Apparently, Seger has become uncool. I’ve been listening to his music and enjoying it for over 20 years, and it never occurred to me to question why, but after that conversation, I started thinking about it. Of course, there are lots of reasons why somebody likes a particular flavor of music, and many of them are hard to define, but for me, a big factor is always the songwriting. So I want to go to bat for Bob Seger as a songwriter.

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