What a fun few weeks it’s been. Months may pass and there’s nary a show that interests us, then a spurt of concerts are announced, tickets are purchased and the calendar fills up.
This time, the run began on June 4th at the World Cafe Live Upstairs in Philadelphia. If you’ve never been there, it’s the smaller of the two WCL rooms, really no more than a restaurant-bar with a stage at one end. Capacity is likely 120 to 150, depending on how many tables are set up, but it’s rare that we’ve been there for a sold-out gig. This night the headliner was the Singer-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named; we first saw her in 1989 at the now-defunct Chestnut Cabaret, where she was backed by a crack band that included Dave Alvin on guitar.
Now, I’ve witnessed some bad performances – most concert-goers have. Back in the mid-2000s, for instance, the Australian alt.-country singer Kasey Chambers headlined the Keswick Theatre in Glenside while sick with the flu. Her voice was shot, she was near-delirious with fever and 40 minutes after the show began it was over. But, since my first concert in 1983 until June 4th, I’ve never witnessed an act deliver a thoroughly atrocious performance.
That is, I hadn’t until the Singer-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named stumbled to the stage with a glass of Maker’s Mark in hand. On a few occasions she launched into one song while her band began another – her mistakes, not theirs. And the second time was something she’d sung 10 minutes earlier! She also rambled near-incoherently, gave the finger to a WCL staffer who stopped her from bringing her dog out of the dressing room (it would have violated a health code), and rambled some more.
On the ride home, Diane mentioned that the show almost made her want to quit live music altogether. Hyperbolic, perhaps, but thankfully our next concert – which came a mere two nights later – stopped such talk. The singer-songwriter Patty Griffin took to the stage at the Kimmel Center’s Verizon Hall with “Wherever You Wanna Go,” the lead-off track of her recent American Kid album, and proceeded to lay down an extraordinary 90-minute set that rocked the emotions even as it connected with the intellect. “Carry Me” from her classic 1998 Flaming Red album fed into “Ohio” from her new one and… wow. That “wow” extends to the hall – the acoustics, at least from our second-row seats, were incredible. The best I’ve ever heard.
That same night, the fabled ‘60s rock-R&B act the Rascals were performing theirOnce Upon a Dream revue, a stage show put together in large part by the E Street Band’s Little Steven Van Zandt, at the Academy of Music. We caught it two nights later, on Saturday. Essentially a history of the band, the 30 song-strong set was interspersed with pre-recorded interview segments, as demonstrated in this clip of “Mickey’s Monkey”-”Love Light.” At times the pre-recorded bits stole from the momentum of the music, yet even with that it was wondrous to hear such songs as “How Can I Be Sure,” “Groovin’” and “People Got to Be Free.”
The final concert of the run came last Wednesday at one of my favorite venues, the Keswick. It’s not as plush as Verizon Hall and the acoustics aren’t the best – but it’s much closer than Philly, and parking is free. (Always a plus, in my book.) The act: the early-1980s practitioners of perky pop, the Go-Go’s, who sound as good now as they did back then. (One day they should tour with the Bangles and bill themselves as the Bang-Go’s. Just a thought.) To say the night was flat-out fun would be an understatement. People stood and bopped about to most of the songs, including – of all things – a Kiss (!) tune during the pre-encore flurry of “ Our Lips Are Sealed” and “We Got the Beat.” Also included in the mix: the Belinda Carlisle solo hit “Mad About You” and the Rolling Stones’ “Paint It Black.” If heaven was a place on Earth, that night it would’ve been in Glenside!
Of course, it’s only normal to compare and contrast concerts when you see a few in a short amount of time. Me, I generally subscribe to the Neil Young school of thought: “Live music is better/bumper stickers should be issued.” They’re all good and great.
Unless, that is, it’s the Singer-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Then warning labels should be affixed.