SHARING THE SHOWS
Normalize daytime shows!!! I echo Jaime Lee Curtis’s sentiment when she advocates that concerts start during the day. I got annoyed toward the end of the Drive-By Truckers show I attended with Pete a couple of weeks ago. They didn’t start until 10:15 at night, and as midnight passed, they kept teasing an end, but they just kept going. No more of those for me. I also need downtime between the point the show ends and the time I hit my pillow, so I like earlier shows (particularly when they start on time). This was a 3 p.m. show and an outdoor one. During my concert fast, I decided I was going to become reacquainted with the New York Mets (although I haven’t been engaged in their recent play outside of Pete Alonso’s home run fest). I traveled up to New York for my summer sojourn with the family, and I went to a street festival in Nyack, where I saw a combination Dead/Mets T-shirt. My impulses kicked in, and I ponied up the $20. As the shirt laid on my closet shelf, I found my “Dead jones” slowly re-emerging, and when I heard about a cover band playing a show right down the street from my brother’s house, I decided I needed a shot – stat. I took the drive from my Mom’s house in Suffern to my brother’s place in Wanaque, New Jersey, which does not feel like New Jersey when you go in. Rather than beaches, toxic waste dumps, and Bon Jovi, that town feels more like a Johnny Cash song. At one point, I jogged down Ringwood Avenue, the main street there, and I counted four flags that read “Let’s Go Brandon.” I thought, where were those things during the toilet paper shortage?
I helped my brother take some boxes down from his attic to prepare for a garage sale, and we got ice cream at this spot called The Ice Cream Train in Pompton Lakes, which has a nice downtown, but it could be so much more vibrant, a la Nyack or Ridgewood. But it does have the vibes of Cash’s “Cisco Clifton’s Filling Station.” I pulled into the parking lot at 3:04, expecting the band to just be starting to get set up, but I was greeted by “Eyes of the World” the instant I exited the car. The band was set up against the back wall of the patio, and the place was packed with stealies. Groups sat at tables enjoying libations, and a handful of folks grooved. I got myself a Diet Pepsi, and the rushed tones of the bartenders indicated they’re not used to this type of a crowd on a Sunday afternoon. They comped me my soda, but I gave them a tip anyway (having worked for tips once, I empathize). At first, it can be uncomfortable going to a venue in an area I don’t live in (and where nobody knows me), but my shirt invited some conversation. A dude (also named Craig) said it should read “Steal Your Bass” as opposed to “Base.” I thought it was cute. It turns out he lives in Bradenton part of the year, and he recommended some places and bands for when I have a gay old time in Tampa for the AP Reading in a couple of weeks. Bands include Antelope, a Phish tribute, and Unlimited Devotion, another Dead cover. Venues were The Ale and the Witch in St. Petersburg and The Blueberry Patch in Gulfport. Notes for the future. I did find it amusing when he told me, “Phish has a song called The Squirming Coil.” The setlist was standard, but groovy: Eyes of the World Halfstep (with harmonica) Jack-a-Roe Dear Prudence (The Beatles) Teach Your Children (Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young) Blue Sky (Allman Brothers Band; the bongos had me reminiscing about drum circles I used to be a part of) Ramble on Rose Sugaree (with harmonica) Casey Jones As the set ended, so did my Dead jones. “We’ll be back soon,” the lead singer announced. “We have nothing much to say each other up here so we’ll be short.” I had been socializing the entire weekend (Doug and Laura in Hoboken; Stephanie, Jeremy, Derrick, Brian, and Shayna at Derrick at Stephanie’s barbecue in River Vale; Jeremy earlier), so I was ready for some alone time. Now I’m going to get vulnerable for a second, so if you’re one those of people who doesn’t think it’s masculine for a guy to do so, read no further. Actually, that’s probably not you, because I tend to not be friendly with those types. On 10/11/20, two months after I moved to DC, I had an accident after the YMSB show at the (now closed) B Chord Brewing Company, where my car was totaled. Nobody was hurt, but it shook me up pretty badly and had me traumatized for a while. Since I now go to shows near Metro stations in the DMV, it’s been over two and a half years since I’ve driven to see live music, so the concept of driving to a show is foreign to me at this point (and a subway ride is much more calming for me after the music). Until today. It felt empowering to finally drive to see music, even if it was just one set (and having Dead and Company’s 5/19/23 show playing helped my state as well). #exposuretherapyrocks During my concert fast, I found I could be more well-rounded, but this show was also a nice way to re-integrate music into my life, but in a healthier, more moderate way. My next planned one is Lettuce on 6/16 in St. Petersburg, and I think I’ll be okay until then. #moderationalsorocks
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What is it about being a solo concertgoer that makes people think you’re a resident of the venue? Seriously, before I even got to my seat, I had two people come up to me and ask me where something was.
Maybe it’s a countenance I’ve developed from solo traveling. After a week of grading, trying to help students alleviate that widespread panic that characterizes the end of the semester, and meeting after meeting (as if we’re not busy enough), I needed some music therapy – stat. I had booked a solo seat in a row of two with the intention of meeting another solo traveler, and at the very least, making a friend for the night, if not for longer. But since not enough tickets were purchased, the balcony shut down, and we moved to the bottom, so I was in a full row. I did get my wish, though, and ending up chatting with Henry, a nice fellow from New Zealand, who informed me of a group called the Pink Floyd Experience, a Floyd tribute that plays in Australia and New Zealand. Nick Mason did ruin Floyd tributes for me, but both of those countries are on my bucket list, so if they’re playing there while I’m there, I’m in. Get the Led Out wasn’t what I expected. They had six members, including a keyboard player, and the lead singer, Paul Sinclair dressed in spandex pants and a bandana, which evoked images of glam rockers like Dee Snider and Vince Neil. He did address the confusion in the second set, when he essentially stated they didn’t want to try to BE Zeppelin, but their goal approach it from the view of band members. I could respect that, and I dug it for what it was. That being said, I still dig Zoso more; they’re grittier and more authentic. But I’m glad I had the experience. I’ve linked the setlist here. They played pretty much what one would expect, with a few twists, and my mind flashed back to when I had the CD of Encomium: A Tribute to Led Zeppelin, where I was introduced to some of their tunes. In fact, I like a few of the following covers better than the originals: “Dancing Days” – Stone Temple Pilots “D’yer Maker” – Sheryl Crow “Hey Hey What I Can Do” – Hootie and the Blowfish As a child of the 90s, these artists hit centers of my brain in ways even some of my current favorites don’t. So it would be natural I would appreciate those versions. And I’m making a connection as I write this: Sinclair began playing music in the 80s, so he’s more than likely influenced by the glam rockers of that time period, which factors into his playing. So who am I to judge? It’s interesting how one can come to new understandings through writing. And now a Dad joke to conclude: on the way out of the show, a security guard told a lady she had to throw her empty beer can away before leaving. The lady said, "We can get the led out, but we can't take the can out!" Her friend said, "You made a funny." I was amused. |
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April 2024
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