SHARING THE SHOWS
Night two. After bopping around Ghirardelli Square during the day, I had to snooze for a bit. I’ve been hooked on this Netflix series GLOW, about female wrestlers in the 1980s. By the time my mini—binge watch (two episdoes) ended, it was about 7:00, and I had to get to the venue. Phish is known for starting the show 45 minutes or so after the start time mentioned on the ticket. Instead of walking, I took the BART. A pretty simple system, but the trains aren’t labeled (at least not at Montgomery Station), so that makes for a pretty interesting ride. I did make it to the neighborhood at 7:30, the ticket’s start time, but I needed sustenance. I don’t typically eat fast food, but time was of the essence, so I downed a double cheeseburger and some 4-piece chicken nuggets from Burger King (don’t judge me). When I got inside, the venue had moved the bar from the main floor. More room to dance, woo-hoo! The band started with “Roggae,” a mellow opener. “Tube” was groovy, and I always love “NICU.” The lyrics “back in those days when my life was a haze” always gets a loud ovation from the crowd, and for obvious reasons. “Runaway Jim” rocks and “Silent in the Morning” is a tear-inducer in my eyes. Now, a little tangent: I happened to glance at the “Addicted to Phish” Facebook page and saw people bitching about what they perceived at the show’s lameness. Seriously, folks? They’ve been entertaining us for 35 years now, and they experiment with different things every night. The show’s beginning was a little tame in comparison with others, but so what? Not all shows are going to be powerhouses, and you should be grateful you can actually stream it from your couch. You couldn’t do that 20 years ago, so kwitcherbitchin! Some of those folks complained too soon (IMO), because they went into a debut, “Keeping It Reel,” for which I had to move back a few spaces because I needed the room to dance! “Driver” is another chill one. “I Saw It Again” evokes horror movie images. “Ocelot” is an okay tune, not my fav, but a lot of folks love it. “Waking Up Dead” was next; a trippy one. I think I’m in the minority on this one, but I love it. “Backwards Down the Number Live” bops, and the first set closed with “More.” I can’t hear this song without thinking of the wonderful video done by filmmaker Kelly Morris, who also responded to my Composition II students when they asked her questions about the video. Once again, great job on both fronts, Kelly! Set 2 started with Trey Anstasio’s “Set Your Soul Free,” which I had never heard before. Yelling “woo!” during “Twist” is one of my top three favorite moments during a show. “Makisupa Policeman” is chill, and “Scents and Subtle Sounds” had a hell of a jam. I’m in the minority with “What’s the Use?” When they played that, I went to get water. During “The Wedge,” some drunk dude bumped into me, a pretty normal occurrence at a general admission show like this. HE then tapped me and said, “thank you for not giving a shit…” and then he said some other stuff in a slur I couldn’t quite comprehend, as he then gave me a hug. All I did was smile widely and go “yeahhh”and hug him back. After this was “Possum” during which another dude was jumping around and crashing into me. I swear, gen admission Phish shows are more hazardous than mosh pits. “Sorry, I’m high on sugar,” the dude yelled as he showed me his Peanut M&Ms. They encored with “Lizards,” which I had never seen at a show. After the show, I got an awesome hot dog from a street vendor. The kid in front of me got three. Those munchies will do it.
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So when I pre-ordered these tickets back in January, I didn’t think I was getting in. So I was delighted to discover I had gotten the two-night package, along with three more shows on the East Coast. But this would be my first time seeing Phish outside the East Coast. I figure I’d be in Seattle anyway, so why the fuck not?
I’m writing a screenplay about four teenagers trying to get from Florida to Plattsburgh, NY for Clifford Ball, and I’m figuring these next shows will generate some good ideas. As I munched on my chicken Cobb salad at Sam’s Diner preshow, I heard someone say the words “pseudo Grateful Dead band.” That line will make it into my screenplay somehow. When I walked into the Bill Graham Civic Center, a purely general admission venue, I was reminded of a larger version of the Norva. This was quite different from Madison Square Garden, where I had seen my last ten Phish shows (to me, that sounds normal; to a non-phan, WHAAAAAAT?). A lot of folks like to be as close to the band as possible; I prefer to be in a space with a lot of room to move around. I actually was able to secure a spot by the Tapers; a lot of people don’t like being yelled at to not scream, so they stay away. I’m not a huge screamer (unless it’s the “whoo” during Twist or the “hey” in PYITE), so I’m good there. This was another solo show. I was hoping to go with my friend Amy, but she was being a good mother and obliging her daughter’s wishes not to go to the show. She also didn’t want to expose her to some of the potential ugliness that may have been lingering from the Gorge shows from this past weekend. Phans of color being attacked and guys randomly groping at women? Seriously? I guess even the Phish scene isn’t immune. I’ll always love Phish, but I’m saddened disappointed the band didn’t address the issue. I always write the setlist in my phone as the band plays. They started off with “46 Days” and went into “McGrupp and the Watchful Hosemasters.” I had never seen the latter performed live, and it was beautiful. I can’t hear that song now without thinking of my phriend Scott, who named his dog Gruppy. One of the characters in my screenplay has a cat named Nutbag, but that’s another issue. “Pigtail” is always upbeat, and the Talking Heads’s “Cities” Is always welcome. I love a good “Gumbo,” and a trippy “Guyute” made the mix. This was one of the songs that got me hooked. Side yarn: in 1998, Story of the Ghost was released, and I was in a fraternity. I DJed our open parties, and a few brothers used their seniority to get me to play “Birds of a Feather” along with a couple of other songs on the album. I was hooked. When I bought the cassette (I still listened to those back then), I must have worn out the heads on the album, and 20 years later, here we are. Thanks, TGs! J “Axilla” is not my favorite, but an okay enough tune (IMO), but I was getting down during “Dogs,” off Chilling, Thrilling Sounds of the Haunted House. I’d like to hear “Your Pet Cat” for my son/cat Chester during one of my ten planned shows this year, but that’s just me. “Dirt” has me near tears every time I hear it. Now for David Bowie, which has the most complex lyrics I’ve ever heard: the band sings “David Bowie” and then repeats it. Then they sing “UB40” and repeat that. In all seriousness, the jam on that one is always amazing, and tonight was no exception. The second set began with “Moma Dance” and went into “Song I Heard the Ocean Sing.” I called the latter as the opener, given the view of the Pacific Ocean. The jam during that one was amazing. My perpetual groove was interrupted by an inebriated young lady being dragged out by her significant other. Thank God those days are over for me. “Mercury” and “Carini” had amazing jams, and by the time “Maze” rolled around, everybody was dancing manically, myself included. Stevie Wonder’s “Boogie on Reggae Woman” made it, and the band closed the second set with “Harry Hood.” “Squirming Coil” filled the encore, and Page’s keys always give me chills. Highlights from post-show: the guy in the bathroom yelling “Oh God, that hurts” at the top of his lungs (interesting) and the “pssssss” sound that emanated from the nitrous tanks on Grove Street (not my deal but it’s always interesting to describe). All in all, an awesome affair. So after we got off the boat, we checked into a hotel for the night. My brother and Mom would head back to New York, while I would spend another week bopping through the Pacific Northwest. And, true to form, there was a concert tonight I wanted to hit.
I took a time machine back to the 90s to see Candlebox, and this was the first time in about a year I’d hit a show solo on purpose. I dig doing that. I wasn’t a HUGE fan of theirs back in the day, but I thought it would be cool to see them in Seattle, the birthplace of grunge, which provided about 90% of the soundtrack to my angsty adolescence. I also remember working in Blockbuster Video in the late 90s (pre-Huluflix days) and having to be subjected to a continuous video loop in which the company advertised specials, etc. But occasionally, they would play music videos. Shania Twain showed up, as did Leann Rimes. And I remember “Far Behind” being on the soundtrack (don’t ask me how). After navigating the Seattle bus system (pretty easy with the Map app), I headed to the Paramount Theater. It was the easiest entry ever; they didn’t search me. All I had to do was present my ticket. Getting to my seat was more of a challenge; the sections weren’t labeled. I had to talk to two different people to actually find my section, but I made it. As I used my phone as a flashlight to find my row, somebody pointed to the letter. No offense to my Phish tribe, but most of these phans are too drugged-out or drunked-out to notice these things. The first baud up was called Sweetwater, a rock band from 90s Seattle. It would make sense the lead singer had that “smoker voice” a la Kurt Cobain (and I use that term with great affection), and that one of the songs had the same rhythm as Hole’s “Violet.” Before the last song, the singer asked if anybody wanted to hear “Free Bird” in anticipation of that one drunk guy who always leads that chorus. After that set, I went to the line to get water. One of the cool things about hitting a show solo is that it forces me to pay super close attention to the details. Like the conversation going on between the two dudes behind me. One was talking about how their friend is constantly trying to “one-up” him in conversation. I remember having those friends; they’re no longer around. I felt like giving my experience with that, but he’s gotta find his own path. Next step: Green Apple Quick Step (pun intended). They were mostly a blip in my mind; I may have seen them on MTV back when they played music videos. But hearing them this time, I can’t tell what it was I liked about them, but I dug it. I think it just gave me that grungy “90s” feel I hadn’t really heard in a long time. So I went down to Merch to support them and Sweetwater by buying their CDs. As I walked down, I was happy about the fact that the eTicket was the only option for purchase. I typically prefer paper because one never knows with technology, but it’s nice not to have to keep track of my ticket. And the highlight of the night: being met with only cassette tapes of Green Apple Quick Step. I dig the novelty aspect of it, but I only spend my money on practical things. I mean, I haven’t had a tape player in my car since 2001, when I 86ed it in favor of a CD player. But Sweetwater’s upgraded. Now: Candlebox. Before they went in, the band opted to put snippets of a bunch of different songs on the loudspeaker, I’m guessing, to fuck with the stoners in the audience. I’m going, what the fuck? Anyway, they played their 1993 debut album. They played the ones I knew from the radio, like “Far Behind” (this one had a 10-minute jam worthy of the Dead), “Cover Me,” and “You.” Kevin Martin’s screams evoked memories of the flannel shirts I sported from 1994 through 1995, and his claim that “No Sense” was written under the influence of mushrooms brought My So-Called Life to mind for some odd reason. They encored with Jane’s Addiction “Mountain Song,” another regular on X107, the hard rock station that filled the speakers of my rusty 1982 Toyota Corolla as it drove to and from school, work, and the Spring Valley Marketplace and the piers of Nyack, NY (where my social group and I spent most of our time). As we exited the theater, Chris Cornell’s “Seasons” filled the auditorium. I first remember hearing this on the Singles Soundtrack, my first association with Seattle. God bless his spirit. It’s interesting how we look upon certain times with rose-colored glasses. While I would never go back to adolescence, the music provides a fun illusion of its idealism. Brother Jeremy felt like resting again, so it was just Mom and me for this concert. We agreed she’s not a selfie girl, so this selfie is just one of me. Yaaaaayyyyy!
This concert involved performers singing songs from the three performers. Elvis started by performing “CC Rider,” which I can can’t imagine anybody but the Grateful Dead doing. Still, the performer did an adequate job. I mean, my head was bopping and all (though it really doesn’t take much to do that). Anyway, he followed with “Burning Love,” “Love Me Tender,” “Suspicious Mind,” “Can’t Help Falling In Love (With You).” All the time, I couldn’t help but think of that scene in Forrest Gump where it’s implied that Elvis says to a young Forrest, “Show me that funny little walk you just did.” And I must confess I had to Google some of the lyrics to find a couple of the correct song titles; as much as I love music, my Elvis knowledge is deficient. I know, I know, I need more concerts. Next up: Madonna. She stuck with the lighthearted stuff, given the family-friendly nature of the cruise. The lineup consisted of “Express Yourself,” “Material Girl,” “Vogue,” and “Holiday,” the latter which had a red, white, and blue theme. Holidays on cruises: keeping America great, that’s what I say. And her male backup dancers were pretty skilled. Finally: Michael Jackson, white glove and all. I guess the suspicions of molestation haven’t affected his iconicity. Oh well, judgments aside, I do dig his old stuff. His lineup; “Wanna Be Starting Something,” “Smooth Criminal, “Thriller” (during which he moonwalked across the stage), and “Billie Jean.” Prior to “Billie Jean,” he asked the crowd, “Do you want to hear one more?” As this crowd is more conservative than the jamband shows I normally go to, yelling “twelve more” will just have Michael Jackson saying, “Bartender, don’t give me what he has. I have pride!” Elvis and Michael both engaged with the drunken energy of the crowd nicely. One dude yelled, “I LOVE you, Elvis” to which he replied, “I hope you’re alright, sir!” Another dude was dancing pretty provocatively to Michael’s stuff, to which Michael said, “Bartender, I’ll have three of what he’s having.” At the conclusion, all the performers got up on stage to perform a mashup worthy of Glee and the Pitch Perfect franchise. The songs were so plentiful they have to take real list form: 1) Queen – “We Will Rock You;” 2) Joan Jett – “I Love Rock and Roll;” 3) Rick Derringer – Rock and Roll Hoochie Koo;” 4) Steve Miller Band – “Rock n Me;” 5) Beatles – “Rock and Roll Music;” 6) Loggins & Messina – “Your Mama Don’t Dance; 7) ________ - “Rockin’ Robin,” 8) Van Halen – “Jump;” (an inconsistency with the “rock” theme here); 9) Kiss – “Rock and Roll All Night;” 10) Rolling Stones – “It’s Only Rock and Roll; and 11) Queen – “We Will Rock You.” It was pretty cool. Of course, I’d be remiss if I didn’t say the glaciers and nature of Alaska weren’t the ultimate concert. So I don’t go to enough concerts at land, so I have to hit one at sea. At least that’s what I’ll post on Facebook. And this time my concert companion is my lovely Mom, Carol. “Not a selfie girl,” as she puts it, I chose to include this photo of my Mom, my brother, and myself on the 12th floor deck as we pass Glacier Bay, the main visual highlight of this trip thus far.
Anyway, back to the focus of this blog: the concert. Brother Jeremy felt like resting, so it was just Mom and me for the concert, which really consisted of a lounge with chairs, and a dude named Lace with a guitar in his hand and a synthesizer next to him keeping the beat. The audience consisted of a few drunk folks dancing, and some more of us sitting. Start time was 9:30, Les started at 9:36 after a few minutes of chatting randomly with some folks on the cruise. Hey, this audience doesn’t care too much, they’ve got their booze. He started off with “Take it Easy,” went into “Mustang Sally” (my favorite), “Sweet Home Alabama,” “Evil Ways, and “Fly Like an Eagle” before taking a break. He’s supposed to play until 11, so I’m guessing his repertoire is limited and he has to stall. Hey, the drunker the audience, the less critical they are. I’m fading, and so is Mom. Her words: “he’s not that good.” Mine: “Ehhh, he’s playing to a drunk audience. They don’t care.” It was a good way to spend a half hour, and I got to bond with Mom, who I don’t see that often. So, all in all, worth the walk. And it was another blog posting. And I wasn’t going to enough concerts on land anyway; just had to reiterate that. |
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April 2024
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