Cheap Seats, Penultimate Chapter

So many shows, such a limited memory...thanks to all who have entertained me over the years: Neil Finn, Bonnie Raitt (early days with Freebo on bass), Yes & Donovan (both as opening acts, one waxing, one waning), the Kinks (late model), Carlos Santana & John McLaughlin, Richard Thompson with Danny Thompson at the Lincoln in Mount Vernon, Ella Fitzgerald, Trevor Pinnock & the English Concert at St. Mark's in Seattle (they trashed the altar), the Jam, Alice Cooper (pre-arena), the South End String Band, Leon Redbone & Leo Kottke, and who can forget the unknown opening acts for James Taylor (who is Carole King?) or Bette Midler (who's that guy with the huge honker on piano -- someone named Barry Manilow??) And thanks to all the bands I've forgotten, big names and no names, music performed inside and outdoors...
Even though this little series has been about the big names, hearing live music transcends categories like that. The last live performance I saw was 3 weeks ago, three 8th-grade kids who knew a total of 4 songs - and I was captivated. There's plenty of fine music to discover.







The Backstage featuring John Martyn
1993, just a few days shy of my birthday, my wife and I see live in concert a man that I consider to be our marriage counselor. John himself would probably be the last to suggest he was qualified to give advice, and I just mean that his records accompanied our early dating, our serious dating, our wedding, our eternal honeymoon -- poor guy was dragged every step of the way. The Backstage was tiny, so you either saw bands there on their way up (see Alison Krauss following) or... well, not on their way down, exactly, but maybe with a little loss of cachet. Especially if they could perform solo (easier to divide the check.) John Martyn had some rough years behind him (musically), but with his late-in-life artistic resurgence, his body finally started to break down after too many years of over-indulgence. The John we see that night had matured, his humor and stage banter no longer at odds with the emotional impact of his songs. But Johnny had grown into a big boy: the tent he wore would have made Mama Cass blanche, and by then he was using a cane.
He's gently good-humored, he plays all the old favorites that in a better world would have made him a fortune, and he drinks only enough to be charmingly lubricated.
You'd think this evening would be burned into my brain, but my wife and I both recall only the certainty that we had been part of a perfect evening. I did hear that there's a bootleg around of this performance... that would be a treat. Always nice to see our John.







Meanwhile, Back at the Backstage...
I've said this to a few people, but I'd swear that everyone in the room the night Alison Krauss and Union Station performed at The Backstage knew that we'd never see her play a space that small again. You don't really expect a bluegrass artist to break big, but we saw big talent on the stage that night. She was funny with a dry wit (with the occassional pinch of goofy), she was articulate, the boys in the band all treated her like their kid sister --- and we all heard the debut of "Oh, Atlanta" a song that allowed her voice to belt one way beyond the bluegrass fence.








One of Our Top Three
...would have to be...David Lindley and band (El Rayo-X) at the 3B (or maybe it was the bar before it was the 3B) in Bellingham. David's mix of surf/James Bond/Eastern exotica/50's rock & blues slide guitar and dub & reggae sounds like it'd be a world music disaster, but that night, the stars aligned, the 'hamsters danced their Grateful Dead twirly dance, and the house was seriously rocked, all by a man with a serious polyester problem.

Another View from the Cheap Seats

Face to Face With Elvis Costello
There was a series of "emerging artist" shows at the Paramount, cheap tickets for new talent. I went with record store buds rather than my girlfriend (now wife -- yes, come-uppance is on the horizon). Elvis was touring in support of "This Year's Model", his break-through (and some say defining) album. He and the Attractions are on fire; some years later I found the bootleg album of this show and it confirmed everything I remembered. Elvis was at his best.

Show over, I head out an unfamiliar exit, and now I'm part of a group who have discovered the tour bus. We stand, we wait, we wait some more. Eventually, a back door at the Paramount opens, and Elvis heads toward the bus and our line of supplicants. I'm not more than 6 or 7 down the line, and I face off with Elvis. Nothing to sign, just me and a goofy grin. Elvis gives me a few seconds, shrugs ("Whatever, mate") and moves on. Later I realize I had my ticket stub he could have signed, but Elvis is on the bus and the line disperses.

Come-uppance: my girlfriend/now-and-always wife (G/NAAW) is with friends at a Seattle pub; she sees Elvis walk in. He settles at the bar for a short drink, surveys the scene, and eventually moves on. Her Elvis experience is far richer than mine; I am chastened.






Van the Man? Not So Much...
Van Morrison's known for many things: his amazing catalog of songs, his dislike of the music industry, his Celtic soul and his love of American blues and R&B. Unfortunately, he has been known in the past for some dodgy performances. He can be transcendent, he can be awful. It depends. I saw Van (the Paramount, again) and it was like there was a Van imitator standing way at the back of the stage, lip-syncing the songs. He's not moving, I can barely see him -- is it a life-size cardboard stand-up? Three or four songs into it, The Man Who Is Probably Van leaves the stage, the band comps instrumentally for a bit, realize he's not coming back so they do an instrumental version of "Moondance" and then they leave the stage. We are pissed off (no refunds!) and word comes back that Van has the flu or something...

Next Van sighting is the Wavelength tour. He's not sick, but, well, this is a transitional period for Van, trying to sound more contemporary for pop radio, so not much in the way of fireworks on stage. The best moment occurs when Rockpile opens (Dave Edmunds and Nick Lowe in full rock-rock-ROCK! mode). Amps are turned up to 12, and hordes of hippies seated for Van rush to the back of the auditorium ("Too loud!! Too loud!!!")







Aw Jeez, "The Circle Game"?? Why Not "Kumbaya" ??
Joni Mitchell touring with some kid named Jackson Browne. He's not bad, she's pretty good, but then we have to stand up and sing "The Circle Game" ("and the seasons, they go round and round, and the painted ponies go up and down.."). Not the best moment in an awkward first date. (Later I realized, my gosh, that first date was a Joni Mitchell/Jackson Browne concert -- I should be in the Boyfriend Hall of Fame!)

Bonding, Part 2
I've been to Bumbershoot several times, but the ones I enjoyed most were when I went with my son. We usually go our separate ways on and off throughout the day, but managed to reunite in time to see: Foo Fighters (with guest Krist Novoselic joining for the encore of Prince's "Purple Rain" -- hey, we saw 2/3 of Nirvana!), Sonic Youth, and the reunited Sex Pistols. You don't know true joy until you can stand side-by-side with your son as Johnny Rotten calls us all wankers.







Aqualung on the Monorail
I've seen Jethro Tull a couple of times in their earlier years, up through the Aqualung tour. Ian was still wearing the greatcoat, and stood on one leg with less effort than he does now. I arrive for a show at the old Seattle Center, and since it's early, I hop on the monorail -- and at the very back is a motley collection of biker dudes in black leather. Wait, that's Ian and the boys out to explore Seattle a bit! Do I say anything to them? Heck, no (see Elvis Costello above), but hey, I rode the rails with Jethro Tull! (Apologies to Bowling Joe for the repeat).

Coming up: yes, I will finally blog about John Martyn at the Backstage, plus, Alison Krauss (also at the Backstage), David Lindley and El-Rayo X in Bellingham, and the most sublime Firesign Theatre experience ever!

Life in the Cheap Seats: A Series

I regret that I get to fewer and fewer concerts these days, but here's a look at some of my more memorable experiences in the concert halls:

My First Concert


I was barely 16, in Seattle with friends. They opted to see "M.A.S.H.", just in theaters. I wasn't old enough to get in, so I decided to head to the Moore Theater, where instead, I saw Frank Zappa and the Mothers. Holy crap! Was there anything in "M.A.S.H." that was worse than anything I heard on stage that night? I don't think so -- this was Frank in the first run of the 'Flo & Eddie' years, the tours and albums that resulted in critics dumping on FZ for "teen porn" -- this was the tour that featured lurid tales of band/groupie interaction involving sea creatures at the Edgewater Inn in Seattle. Yikes!! A few years later, I saw Frank with his Grand Wazoo band, his own version of a (small) big-band outfit. They were legends, fully equipped to pull off Frank's complicated charts -- but the calls for "Mudshark" kept coming, and Frank was actually pained -- "Oh, you don't want us to play that, do you?" But the calls continued, and Frank, obviously embarrassed, told the band "It's a blues -- just follow me.."
Footnote: I saw FZ probably 3 or 4 more times. At one show (it may have been the Moore Theater one), some drunk comes on stage, brays for a while playing the piano (how did this guy get on stage? Why does he have access to a piano? Oh Frank, such a clever guerrilla-theater moment!) until he's subjected to audience harassment and leaves the stage. Many years later, I realize he was Tom Waits (he and FZ shared the same manager).

Other Concerts (and an Amusing Disaster)
Working in a record store, I got a lot of free tickets. Promoters thought a full house (even though 1/4 were free) was better than a sparse audience.
So I got to see whatever the record companies were pushing at the time: The Boomtown Rats, Rachel Sweet, XTC (great), the Police (boring -- we left after 3 songs), and my favorite, Rubicon. They opened for the Rats, I think, and it was a total mistake. They were touted as a super-group of second and third line players -- the most famous was Sly Stone's sax player. They played bad (as in terrible); eventually, the sax guy complained that we were a bad (as in terrible) audience. At that point, the front rows (all record store people) taunted him and the band by acting as if Rubicon was the ROCKIN'EST BAND EVER!! Whenever the singer would point to the crowd, they'd point back, meanwhile fake-dancing up a storm, disco moves, total rock abandonment -- they did it all. It was like 'improv theater as revenge' from the audience. Totally awesome! (Rubicon left the stage soon after.)




Best Concert(s) Ever?
The late, lamented Rainbow Tavern in Seattle. My girlfiend/now-and-always wife see Loudon Wainwright III ( around the release of the album "Unrequited"). It is incredible. When I first mention this blog post about favorite concerts, she says "Oh, Loudon". He's hilarious, he's moving, he's utterly captivating. Show's over, we're outside, and we both say "Let's stay for the second show!!" Back in line, in for free, another hour or so of greatness.

Best Bonding
Dazzled and enchanted by John Fahey, guitarist, folklorist, magician, once again at The Rainbow. Long, long, mesmerizing medleys and improvisations built on blues, folk, Russian classical music, and John's own fertile brain. I take a restroom break. Guy at next urinal: "Isn't he just so great??"
Men do NOT talk to each other in public restrooms. Side-by-side urinal use does NOT mean a bond has been formed. Yet, this night, whether beer has been involved or not, broke the rule. Who knows, if my bladder had cooperated, I could have been standing next to John Fahey instead...

Next: Elvis Costello, John Martyn, Joni Mitchell, Van Morrison, Van Morrison again, and Jethro Tull on the Monorail!

Record Store Days, Flip Side

Tower was a big box store with an indie heart. They hired people who cared about music, and even though Tower was a chain, each store had its own personality. I worked at a tiny record store in Bellevue, and as much as we begrudged Tower's gigantic-ness, we still admired them (and you'd find many of our staff after work browsing Tower's shelves.) My girlfriend-eventually-wife and I would stop by the crummy Shakey's pizza place down the street, and after pizza with extra cheese, we'd head on down to Tower to hang out. (It didn't hurt that she'd sometimes wear this flimsy t-shirty thing that had me walking into walls...)

The store in Bellevue gave me my second adolescence. I was there when we got our first shipment of the Sex Pistol's single "God Save The Queen", and bang, I felt like I was 13 again. So many great 45s would show up week after week, many of which I have now on CD compilations, burned or otherwise (like The Strangler's version of "Walk On By", performed Doors-style, or The Undertones, a pop-punky Irish band who sang "Here Comes the Summer" like a revved-up Celtic Beach Boys). And then there was the transcendent moment when we opened the boxes containing "The Beatles At the Hollywood Bowl". It was crap, of course, the music drowned out by the screaming (which is probably why it went unreleased for so long), but it was the first new Beatles album in many a moon -- AND I WAS THERE WHEN IT CAME OUT!! It felt like I'd gone back in time and met Jesus' 3rd cousin Shlomo -- sometimes just being downstream from the real thing is enough.

Later I worked at Northern Lights and/or The Landing, and one of my fondest memories is working the Folklife Festival in Seattle. For one brief, shining moment, we were the Offical Record Store of Folklife, and I had a great weekend selling LPs and cassettes of Dougie MacLean, Stan Rogers, The Good Ol' Persons and so many more.

I found so many mentors in record stores -- Ron, who told me about Roy Bookbinder, Tony Rice, and many more bluegrass & folk artists; the time when I went to Discount Records in Seattle to beef up the reggae collection of Music Street in Mount Vernon (by then, we were owned by the same company, so we could shift stock back and forth), and the guy there kept pulling out (I found out later) classic reggae LPs ("Oh, you'll need this, and this -- and definitely this...") -- LPs that still live on in my CD collection; the older black gentleman who'd stop by the store in Bellevue and tell me about Ivey Anderson (vocalist on "Take the A Train" by Duke Ellington) and The Three Suns; the guy who'd bring his Swedish jazz LPs into Northern Lights; Thom and Ron from Northern Lights/The Landing, of course (I'm still stunned that Ron managed to get Richard Thompson & Danny Thompson to play the Lincoln Theatre in Mount Vernon)...the list goes on. Thanks to all and sundry; I hope the tradition continues in tiny record stores across the world...

Gerry Rafferty, RIP

Yeah, I know, "Baker Street", the sax soars and Gerry's voice begins the tale. Or maybe, the Stealer's Wheel standard "Stuck In the Middle With You" (SITMWY) is the tune that comes to mind. I worked in a record store when "Baker Street" hit, and we sold the albums by the shovel-full. Of course, anything THAT popular must be crap, right? Not so fast there, mate. Back even in the pre-Stealer's Wheel days, Gerry's writing stood out. "Please Sing a Song For Us" by the Humblebuns graced a iconic collection of folk/rock standards (all hail "Electric Muse"! - it even featured Al Stewart!), with Gerry's Lennon-esque voice up front. Cut to Stealer's Wheel, with of course SITMWY, but also "Star" (almost a hit), and really good songs like "Benediction", "Late Again" and "Who Cares".

Gerry hit the charts with "Baker Street", and the hits kept coming, but the better songs were buried in the albums. Songs like "As Wise As a Serpent" and "Family Tree" and "The Garden of England" -- well, he was a master of bitter-sweet introspection (with a chaser of optimism). So, okay, maybe the arrangements are a bit too "pop", and yes, he kinda smothered the first attempt at Richard and Linda Thompson's album "Shoot Out the Lights" with a top-heavy production, but..."Baker Street" still offers hope. When it comes on the radio, I always listen. And the song "The Right Moment" always, ALWAYS, makes me re-evaluate what I'm doing (or not doing) to move ahead.

Like the recently passed Gil Scott-Heron, Gerry fought some demons in his life. I hope he's at peace now, especially knowing that his work offers a light to those of us lucky enough to listen.

We Have Come Not to Bury Record Stores, But to Praise Them

Just finished reading "Record Store Days", which I recommend most highly, not just for the love letter to record stores, but the fantastic photos -- reminders of the clutter, the dust, the piles of boxes, the walls papered with posters and promo flyers -- that WAS the record store experience. The book offers hope that, like the independent bookstore, the record store still has a chance to live.

Here's just a few of my 'record store moments':

Puget Sound Records in Bellingham WA. My girlfriend and I are buying an album -- just one (college days, tight budget). She wants Jackson Browne's "Late for the Sky" and since I want her, that's what I bring to the counter. Co-owner suggests instead John Martyn's "Solid Air". Umm, who?? A few years later, my next girlfriend and I discover "Solid Air". Jeez, it's like the sky opened and the lightning struck. John Martyn was now the standard (and yes, dear reader, I married her.)

Working at Everybody's Records in Bellevue. I'm now Assistant Manager (or was it "Assistant TO the Manager"?) and as such, have to work late nights. Need to know: we made a tiny percentage of profit on LP sales, so we added high mark-up items, like, um, "smoking accesories" -- pipes, bongs, ornamental coke spoons -- because the profit was like 200%. So, I'm standing at the "accessory" counter, when a guy comes in, very frazzled, leans on the counter, and asks "Do you guys have NEEDLES!?" Me, stuttering, replies: "Gosh, we have pipes and bongs and stuff, but we don't carry needles!" His response: "I mean record needles, for my stereo, man!" (Cue apology from me..._)

Next would have to be my experience at Music Street in Mount Vernon. I'm hired because: A:I have experience, and B: I shamelessly tell the manager that I LOVE his band (story to come later -- one of my Top Five concert experiences -- but NOT because of his band). I'm working, straightening shelves, etc., the two women on the staff are smoking (yeah, I know -- inside the store!) and listening to the "Moondance" LP by Van Morrison. Album clicks off, so I go and turn it over to Side Two. Minutes later, astonishnent from the women: "What IS that?" Umm, it's Side Two of "Moondance"? "Wow! We've never turned it over!"

Ah, memories light the corner of my mind... More to follow.

Marz

I read a review of the CD in the New York Times which sounded interesting, so I ordered a copy unheard -- which I do when I'm feeling reckless. Luckily, the review was right -- I like this one. Can't tell you really anything about the band (I think they're German), so there's that air of mystery to add some allure.

In the '70s, German bands like Cluster wrote and performed very simple melodic synth pieces, and despite the almost total reliance on synthesizers, the result was very bucolic and rustic. This CD is very similar; sounds of children playing in the park, nature sound effects, acoustic guitars, oom-pah band horns -- all in the mix, along with English & German vocals sounding somewhat like Peter Gabriel at his most achingly sincere. The songs are simple, alsmost circular in their patterns.

Sometimes you get lucky!