Long Time Gone

Since no one seems to be writing protest songs anymore, why don't we just have another listen to this?

A Higher Place

I went to a Tom Petty concert a while ago.  It was my fourth concert, and he never disappoints.

Solid musicianship, terrific songs, cool light show, and just the right balance between humility and attitude.

Mike Campbell was on, putting on a clinic of masterful guitar work.  This was an improvement over previous shows, because - although he is a tasteful genius in the studio - his attempts to wow in live performances can sometimes be uneven.

Another improvement:  Petty's noodling guitar solos also seem to get better with age.

As always, the coolest part of the experience was the crowd, who stand up and sing along with every song.  Not some parts of some songs, not when asked to join in, but every line of every song.  Rather like being in church.

I suppose it is, for some people.  Anyway, the fanaticism is contagious and joyful.

Only one complaint, especially coming on the heels of McCartney's nearly 3 hour show:  not enough.  Petty's show was just under 2 hours, which was downright annoying given we were subjected to over 90 minutes of a CSN "performance" that was a long time gone before it even started.

A good kind of complaint, I guess, but the final result was that the lows outnumbered the highs.  I went from "when will this end?" to "hell ya!" to "what, it's over?" and ended up feeling like, for $180, Tom was jammin' me.

Were you, Tom?  I need to know.

Carry On?

My mom, probably like yours, always told me if you don't have anything nice to say, then keep your mouth shut.  That said ...

I saw Crosby, Stills and Nash in concert last year, and it was a sad affair.

I saw them in 1974, and have fond memories.  But their embarrassing performance at Live Aid in 1985, confirmed by woeful appearances on Rock and Roll Hall of Fame shows, set me up with low expectations for this concert.  Sadly, these expectations were met.

Their music is timeless.  Unfortunately, the boys aren't, and the litany of complaints is too long and painful to record here.  Suffice it to say that if you walked into a bar and didn't know who they were, you'd turn around and walk out.  In fact, I saw a tribute band a few years ago that was way better.

Here's a curious thing, though: the audience was enthusiastic.   Wildly enthusiastic.  I admit that when I recognized the big songs (eventually, in most cases) I felt a small wave of emotion wash over me.  But people must have been hearing the music in their heads, not the sound emanating from the stage.

I guess my brain is wired differently, because my overwhelming reaction was one of sadness, helplessly hoping they'd get off the stage before it got any worse.

Sorry, Mom.