Favorite Concerts

I was having a conversation recently about the best concerts we had seen. And I recalled this was an occasional subject of conversation while traveling -- along with "what was your first concert?" And that can lead to some interesting and amusing answers.

Though I might edit this list if I think of any others that I can't recall now, these are my favorite 5 concerts that I've attended:

1 -- Simon and Garfunkel (1983). Also my first concert. I was late to an appreciation of music. I didn't buy my first album (actually a cassette tape) until I was a sophomore in high school. Simon and Garfunkel did a series of reunion concerts in the mid-80s and my first concert was seeing them outside Washington D.C. Then my second concert was seeing them two days later Dallas. Pretty good start to my concert lifetime.

2 -- Pink Floyd (1988). Another reunion tour, but this time without one of the two major forces behind the band, Roger Waters. He and David Gilmour apparently despise each other with the burning passion of the sun. Didn't inhibit the excellence of the show in Austin.

3 -- U2 (1985). I've seen U2 twice. The first time was back on their Unforgettable Fire tour in Dallas and then saw them much later on their Pop tour in 1997 in Seattle. The first show was the more memorable (The Edge had to sing a bunch of songs in the later tour because Bono's voice was a little blown out) and especially memorable for me because of one of Bono's comments between songs. They had just hit it big time with this album, and were set to be one of the big bands at Live Aid later that year. Bono joked mid-concert to the sell out crowd, "where were all you fans when we played to a half empty show at Billy Bob's two years ago?"

4 -- Eric Clapton (2005). This was a concert tour that got very, very mixed reviews from my friends. I had a number of friends that hated it. I flew out to San Francisco and saw them him out there. I think the main reason that some hated this concert, including about half of the audience that I saw it with, was that they didn't know what Clapton was up to. The first half of the concert was old school blues covers of guys like Robert Johnson and others from decades long gone by. A good number of people around me kept asking: "is that a Clapton song?" Then in the second half of the show, he came out and played pretty much every single one of his greatest hits. I hate it when legends come out and only play a few of their classic songs, and instead play a bunch of songs off their latest album. Frankly, most times the most recent stuff isn't that great -- we came to see you play your time-tested stuff. Clapton did just that. For about two hours.

5 -- Big Head Todd and the Monsters (2008). Went to see them at Red Rocks before I took off on my trip. I really enjoy everything they've done and they put on a hell of a live show. The lead singer's voice is so damn velvety smooth and is a perfect bluesy/rock base voice. Great band and makes the top 5 also because of the venue. Red Rocks is one of the best places to see a concert in the world. Amazing.

I would LOVE to see other's lists of their favorite shows of all time. Thanks!

Video of the Day: Mongolian music

Loved this guy and the sounds he could make. The combo of noises he can get from a three string (I think) instrument and his voice.... amazing.

Andrew Lloyd Webber

OK, earlier I referenced how much I hate Andrew Lloyd Webber and some people emailed me and wanted the story. Here is my brief explanation.

I have seen a number of his musicals over the years. Some live shows (on Broadway, at the Kennedy Center and in touring productions), some of the movie versions of his productions. I've disliked them all. Been bored stiff every time by his stuff.

It is someone peculiar for me because I have seen musicals that I like. Loved a comedic musical with Greg Brady, of all people, as the lead in D.C. once. I also absolutely love the opera, so its not as if I dislike the whole 'singing on stage' thing.

But I just having liked a single one of Andrew Lloyd Webber's musicals.

The absolute nail in the coffin for me was when my father, my brother, and some other people, including one of my best friends in the world, Doug Muzzy and I went to Scotland about 10 years ago to play golf for a week or so. At the end of that trip, my father, Doug, Doug's father, and I went to London for a couple extra days to play a few more rounds down there. Doug and his father are big musical fans and his dad bought four tickets to see 'Phantom of the Opera.'

'Phantom of the Opera.' On the stage it was originally performed. Not the entire original cast, but a good portion of them. You would figure this set up for an excellent evening's entertainment.

O contre, mon ami.

Although my dislike for all things Webber had been established by then (and Doug was quite amused, knowing this about me, that his father had gotten tickets for all of us), I steeled myself to approach it with an open mind. We put on the best clothes that we'd brought for the trip, got into a taxi and went off to the theater.

As the cab pulled up to drop us off -- to the right, the marquee on the right had the big sign for 'Phantom of the Opera' -- and at the theater immediately across the street.

'The Odd Couple starring Jack Lemon and Walter Matthau.'

Its hard to explain how annoyed I was. When would you ever get a chance to see those two in that play? Turns out. . . not much. They were both dead about 2-3 years later.

Head hung low, I went in to 'Phantom of the Opera.' And hated it. Like all Andrew Lloyd Weber productions, the actual production part of it was incredible. Beautiful staging. When the Phantom was rowing through the misty subterranean river? Gorgeous. But its the same damn song over and over and over -- "Phantommmm of the Operaaaa."

Arrrrggggg. Matthau and Lemon right across the street. Damn it.

Bus from Cali

Feb. 3 – bus from Cali to Popayan

Paul Theroux is one of the great original travel writers and purveyors of railroads around the world. His first travel book was the Great Railway Bazzar about a train trip from London to Japan and back (part of which I will now be attempting, in my revised route – more on that later). He also wrote The Old Patagonian Express about rail travel from Boston to Argentina and most recently redid the route of his original travel book in the recently released Ghost Train to the Eastern Star.

Reading his stuff has been an inspiration to me. Dark Star Safari, his account of his overland trip from Cairo to Capetown was one of the inspirations for me to the the same, in reverse. Great Railway Bazzar and Ghost Train to the Eastern Star have partly inspired me to want to do the Trans-Siberian railroad. His style of writing can be caustic and quite sarcastic – needless to say, I like it.

But as it relates to my trip, I felt somewhat like the anti-Theroux. He primarily travels by train. So far on this trip, I have been almost exclusively a bus person.

Those are two entirely separate worlds.

Two days ago, I took a bus from Cali, Columbia about three hours south to Popayan. The bus was one of the mini-bus varieties – it had seats for 19 passengers. Six seats on the right, eight on the left, and five in the back row. When we started out in Cali, there were ten people on the bus.

On anything smaller than the big autobuses, the driver stops to pick up anyone along the side of the road that is waiving the bus down for a ride and is heading in the same direction. This is true for cabs you ride in, vans that run shorter routes (colectivos) between towns an hour or two away, these mini-buses, and chicken buses, of course. Basically you just stand by the side of the road and wave down the vehicle and if they have any space for you, they’ll stop and pick you up.

I wrote that last paragraph before I took the bus from Tulcan (at the Columbia/Equador border) to Quito last night. Our large autobus stopped about fifteen times to pick up whomever and whatever. The term “directo” when you ask about your bus is apparently a relative term.

In any case, back to the mini-bus ride from Cali to Popayan. At Cali we had ten passengers on board. As we traveled down the road, we picked up a new passenger here and there, until the bus was full – 19 seats and 19 passengers.

When we slowed down a couple miles later, I thought we must be dropping someone of, but no. Two more guys get on. The guy taking the money and the tickets go up from his seat on the passenger side of the front cabin and gave his seat to one of the guys. He then pulled out a bucket and some sort of cushion, flipped the bucket upside down, plopped it down between the driver and the other guy and bingo – 21st seat on the bus. He then sat on the steps that led up into the bus.

Some of these bus drivers are. . . well. . . insane. This guy certainly feel into that category. The road between Cali and Popayan was almost entirely mountainous and windy. Beautiful scenery. But it was really not a good idea to look at the road ahead of you and just concentrate on views out to the side.

It was a two lane road the entire way. At one point, I noticed us passing an eighteen wheeler. Slowly. Up a hill. Around two big curves (it took that long to pass at this speed). There was literally no way, none, that he could have seen the road that far ahead. It was double yellow the entire way, but then again, those road markings or signs are just suggestions anyway.

Another time we passed another bus on a straight part of the road. I saw, as must the bus driver, that a motorcycle was coming the other direction. No worries – we were a lot bigger than the bike – it drove off to the shoulder of the road and passed us there.

The entire way during this trip I had a song in my head (for those of you on Facebook that have read my 25 random things). The night before, I had read a comment that my friend, Chance, had written on someone’s Facebook page, “Happiness is a Warm Gun.” So needless to say, for the entire ride, I had that Beatles song running in my head.

About two hours into the ride, I finally decided to flip on the Beatles’ White Album in my iPod. I started in about the middle of the 1st album – “The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill” then “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” and then “Happiness is a Warm Gun.”

Almost as soon as that song started up, the bus slowed down, pulled over to the shoulder, and onto the bus came two Columbian military guys with M-16s. It was my first random drug/passport search. These things, like border crossings, are slightly nerve wracking when you don’t speak any Spanish. This one took a little bit – the guy actually did look at everyone’s ID and did search the luggage, a little bit – but in the end, no worries.

“Happiness is a Warm Gun” while getting searched by a Columbian soldier toting an M16?? Sometimes I wonder if you guys believe that any of this stuff actually does happen to me. . . then again, I’m not that good a fiction writer.

Summer concerts in Denver -- 2008

I drove out to Denver twice this summer to go see two different concerts at Red Rocks and also a great music festival. If you haven’t seen a concert at Red Rocks, you should really pull up their schedule of events (www.redrocksonline.com) next spring and plan a trip out there. It is an absolutely beautiful venue to see a concert.

Red Rocks is in Morrison, about 15 miles from Denver. Built by the Works Project Administration (WPA) and Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC), it was dedicated on June 15, 1941 and hosted shows ever since. The natural amphitheatre consists of two 300-foot sandstone rocks on each side – Ship Rock and Creation Rock. Look – just go see it. It is wonderful.

I’ve been to a reasonable number of concerts in my lifetime and one of the expectations any time you go to almost any kind of show is that there is going to be a hint of the fragrance of marijuana in the crowd. I had two different experiences on that front at Red Rocks.

The first show I went to see was Big Head Todd and the Monsters. Really good live performers. Rock with a soul of the blues throughout. The lead singer, Todd Park Mohr, has a great, low base voice and is one of my favorites. Since they were originally from Colorado, I expected an excellent show. I wasn’t disappointed.

The show was supposed to start at 7 p.m. No opening act. This being mid-summer, the sun was still well up in the sky when I arrived around 6:30 or so to grab a beer and take my seat, which was about 40 rows up from the stage. I met my seat neighbors and had a nice conversation about Denver and the music scene there and the band took the stage around 7:30. Now at a normal concert, the band would take the stage, the lights in the auditorium would dim, and people would take that as their signal to light up.

Outside concert. The sun was still up. No lights to dim.

Apparently, that wasn’t a problem for the smokers in the crowd, of which there were many. I think I saw more joints lit up in my immediate vicinity that an any other concert I’ve ever been to before.

I looked around and almost laughed out loud. I got the distinct impression that there was an unspoken agreement between the audience and the cops and security guards – stay cool, don’t cause a scene, and no one gets arrested or gets their dope taken from them. I’d never been to a concert in Amsterdam before. These Dutch folks rocked!

And I’ve got to say that there are a number of images that immediately draw a smile to my face. One of those is when I see an old couple (not just older – truly old – 75+ years old) holding hands in public or otherwise overtly showing that they are still very much in love. No matter my mood, it warms be up immediately. I added another image to that list at this concert.

People in their 50s and 60s toking a nice, long hit at a concert. I don’t know what it is about that image that just brought a smile to my face. In fact, I’m smiling right now as I type, just remembering it.

I think if the same people were getting high at a house party, it probably would resonate with me as being more pathetic than anything, but at a concert, it seemed great. It was as if the people that had their formative years in the 60s and early 70s were briefly able to take a time machine back to their youth. The pleasure of their memory and their enjoyment of the moment they were in was contagious. I don’t smoke, but I still think I managed to get a pleasant contact high – not just from the smoke waifing around me, but just from being in close contact to people having that much fun.

A few other random thoughts and experiences from that show. Why is it that woman, much more than men, seem to have a visceral reaction to music? Women everywhere in the crowd were dancing, singing, shouting, and swaying to the music. This obviously wasn’t the first time I’d see this reaction before – go to any club and see the difference on the dance floor. Woman are out there dancing with abandon because they actually feel the music – guys are out there dancing merely in the hope of getting laid by one of the women that really gets taken away.

What I find strange about that is that music, or specifically its effect on people, wouldn’t seem to be a normal dividing line between the sexes. The male enjoyment of watching sports for hours on end on the couch verses the normal female distaste of the immense waste of time that entails? Sure, that makes sense. The joy a woman gets from shopping for whatever makes her happy verses the guy’s inevitable reaction of “you need another pair of black shoes?” Sure, that seems like a logical dividing line. But the different reactions to music make less sense to me.

I also heard a line from a guy in a bathroom that I thought was classic. As we were lined up at the urinals, he turns to his buddy next to him and says, “this will be Keystone Light by Thursday.” It reminded me of one of my favorite Monty Python jokes: “Why is American beer like making love in a canoe? Because both are fucking close to water.”

The second concert I went to was an entirely different experience. After I went to the Mile High Music Festival (www.milehighfestival.com) over the weekend, I heard that the Police were going to play Red Rocks that Monday night. I contact a local ticket scalper, and since I was a single, managed to luck into a front row seat.

Before I move on, the Mile High Music Festival is another experience I highly recommend. This was the first year of this festival, and if the first year is an indication, this is going to be one of the best-run music festivals in the country. Four stages with alternating music from noon until midnight. Two stages were normally going at the same time, so you had plenty of time to walk around and see everyone that was playing all day. Every single band took the stage exactly on time – and finished exactly on time.

That is except for John Mayer. He was supposed to take the main stage at 4:45 and finish at 6:15. He took the stage around 4:20 or so and finished at about 5:40 or so. Since everyone else was exactly on time, the crowd was a bit confused. He came back out after about 5 minutes and apologized profusely, and profanely, which I liked. Something along the lines of; “Well fuck. This is the first festival I’ve played. When the last band finished, I thought I was supposed to start playing. Guess I fucked that up. So, we played all the stuff we’d planned on playing today – hope ya’ll don’t mind if we just jam a little.” Then he played for another half hour – covering Van Halen songs, Jimmy Hendrix stuff, and a few of his own he hadn’t played originally. I’ve gotta say, he really moved up in my eyes after his performance.

In short, it was a really, really well run festival. Great food. Lots of beer stands. Not enough shade (it was 100 degrees on Sunday), but they couldn’t do too much about that. They did set up some big tents, but could have used a couple more. Great acts – John Mayer, O.A.R., Steve Winwood, Tom Petty, Dave Mathews, and many more. Well worth the price of admission.

So back to The Police concert at Red Rocks. It was on the Monday after the weekend music festival in Denver. I’d checked on getting a ticket before I drove out there through a local ticket broker, but on the drive Friday, the broker called me and told me that they were out of tickets. He said he was confident that he was going to be able to buy some more over the weekend and that he’d call me in the next day or two with an update. When he called back Sunday, he asked me again how many tickets I needed. I told him that I was a single. He said, “Great! I’ve got a front row ticket that I can’t get rid of because it’s a single. Face value good for you?” Uhhhhhh. . . yes.

Because of its age and the way things are set up, Red Rocks is a bit unique right up at the stage area. The stage is basically at floor level and there isn’t anything, aside from a single barred fence, keeping you from jumping right up on stage. Because of that, they place 5-6 security guards in seats, right up next to the stage, looking back towards the crowd, ergo the difference regarding the wacky weed that I noticed.

While my previous concert lead me to believe that it was cool to smoke weed at any Red Rocks concert, once I got down to the front row, I realized that impression needed a caveat: you apparently can smoke weed anywhere in the Red Rocks crowd except in the first 4-5 rows. Those security guards must have rushed up into the crowd to grab joints and pipes about a dozen times during the show. It was pretty assuming.

They obviously weren’t going into the crowd to stop people from taking pictures.

Other notes of interest. A woman in the 2nd row brought a pair of binoculars to look at Sting for a good portion of the show. I didn’t want to know on what she was focusing. The front row was also partly reserved for people in wheelchairs. It was really nice to see those folks pop wheelies and spin around in a wheelchair effort to dance with the music. Uplifting.

Go see a show at Red Rocks. You won’t regret it.