Bands & Artists

Talking to Tweens about Sweat

/ Deb / Leave a comment
Keith Sweat, that is.
His mellow grooves just happened to come on the radio recently, as I was picking up my son from the movies. It was one of Keith’s slower numbers — so you have to turn the radio up and sing along, right?  My son hopped in the car and started to talk to me.  I pretended to listen at first.  But then I couldn’t hear Keith.

“Sorry, I can’t pay attention to what you are saying right now.  Wait until the slow jam is over”.

Reading the name on the radio display, my son said:  “Keith SWEAT? What kind of a name is that? That can’t be his real name.  And what’s a slow jam?”  [So yeah, try and explain a slow jam to your almost-13 year old:  “well, son… it’s music you would listen to if you were having someone over to…study”.].  I elected to interpret his question as theoretical, and did not respond.    
The next day, I’ll be darned if Keith Sweat didn’t come on the radio AGAIN.  (what is the universe trying to tell me?)  This time, my son’s friend was in the car.   My son joyfully pointed out the name scrolling across the radio – “hey, check it out.  Keith SWEAT.  My mom likes him”.  I started to explain that it’s not that I really like him, it’s that it makes me nostalgic…..but then I gave up.  The kids were mocking me by then, anyway.

If I had felt like being really mocked, I would have told them how I went and saw Keith Sweat in concert a few years ago, with a friend who I hadn’t known in my earlier hip-hop/R&B days. We met each other when our kids were in preschool, and somehow discovered that we shared an affinity for Keith Sweat back in the day. So when we learned that Keith was going to be in concert at the Emerald Queen Casino, it was an obvious choice for an adventure.

I think in some ways we both were not sure it would really happen, but we did it — we made it out of our houses on a rainy Friday night, which is a feat unto itself.  Not only that; we made it all the way to Tacoma!   We arrived at the casino/venue, ate a dinner of fried food and drank bad wine while we took in the scene.  The crowd was 90% ladies, which was not a surprise.  However, we also learned during the course of the evening, that, in addition to still being a master of the slow jam, Keith was also the purveyor of a book on relationships, and has a dating website.  And, if we had happened to momentarily forget about the book or website, fortunately there were several reminders throughout the show.  So that was a relief.

For the lucky ladies near the front of the venue, there were abundant opportunities to join Keith on stage for the purpose of serenading and/or public adoration.  One concertgoer seized her moment, grabbing the mic and letting us all know how she felt about Keith, yelling,  “I’LL SUCK YOUR BALLS OFF!!”   

Keith was not happy about this, instantly grabbing the mic from her.  In all fairness, however, he had advised us all earlier:  “If you want it, get up ON it”. So really, in her defense, she was just taking the initiative.  And for that, I applaud her.  

In the end, Keith must not have been too offended by the Pacific Northwest concert crowd.  My friend emailed me recently with news of another upcoming show at the casino:  “He’s baaaaaack……”  

The Kids Are Alright

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This vignette recently took place in the back seat of my van, and it made me smile:

My son (“J”):   “Oh man, you should see this album cover that my mom has.  There’s this baby on it, and he’s totally naked, and he’s swimming after a dollar bill.” [the preceding conversation must have concerned either baby brothers, or general nakedness; I wasn’t really paying attention].
His friend (“A”) [emphatically, matter-of-factly]:  “Oh, I’ve seen that!  I know that band.  I know that band. They’re good.”
J:  “Yeah, I think it’s Nirvana.”
A:  “Yeah.  They are like, a really good band.”
J:  “Yeah, they are.”
[and…..scene.  The conversation likely then returned to either Minecraft, baseball, or hamburgers].

Territorial Pissings (yes, that’s a Nirvana reference)

/ Deb / 1 Comment

You know what’s cool?  Offering a free download of your concert for those who went to the show.  I saw Dispatch for the second time last weekend, and I loved being able to download a copy of the show on Monday morning, for free, with the barcode from my ticket.

I was excited that they decided to play Seattle on this tour. Last time, (which we thought was a one-time reunion tour), we had to fly to Berkeley to see them. (“A Badger and a One-Eyed Toad”).   But a show at the Moore Theatre meant an easy, well-deserved night out with my sister, and their sing-along vibe is just plain fun – which is, after all, the entire point of live music.

Dispatch enjoys the ubiquitous status of being the “biggest band no one has ever heard of”, and maybe they are.  They’ve achieved a loyal fan base without any major record deal, and, despite taking a break and various side projects, they’ve stayed true to their roots as an independent band.

Offering a free download of a live show is a great throwback to the days of tape trading and authorized bootlegs.  And, while it might just be a publicity stunt, it makes you feel like like they appreciate the fact that you buy their music and tickets to their concerts.

I give these kudos to Dispatch – freely – but as preface to what I am about to say.  I’ll keep listening, and I’ll always buy a ticket when they come to town, but I might need to have a talk with my imaginary friend, lead singer Chad Stokes.  (“On Sisters and Pineapple”, “The Pixies, Chad Stokes, and Pineapple”).  It seems we might differ on one important Seattle music issue.

It was really a great show….good energy, lots of old favorites.  And then, it happened.  In between songs, Chad made reference to playing at the Moore Theatre. I can’t remember the exact words, but it went like this: “We’ve gotta pay our respects to Seattle……the Moore Theatre…..hallowed ground for those who have played here before us…..bands like Alice in Chains, Nirvana, Pearl Jam…..”

I suddenly got all territorial and defensive.  Really?  You are leading with Alice in Chains?  I liked them just fine, but….really?  You are putting them at the front of a Seattle list that includes Nirvana and Pearl Jam?

You can argue all day about who should be #1 or #2 on the list.  And even I will admit that’s is probably Nirvana at the top, if for no other reason than, let’s face it – dying young and tragically elevates you to cult status. (And for the record, do I love Nirvana).

But in no universe would anyone ever put Alice in Chains as #1 on that list.  Was he trying to be ironic?  Make the non-obvious choice?  Or maybe he was just naming them alphabetically.  Either way, I was now officially on a rant.

To my sister beside me:  “Dude, if you are paying your respects, then pay them properly.  It’s Eddie Vedder who scaled the damn walls of the Moore Theatre, thank you very much.” (maybe Kurt and Layne did too, I really have no idea.  But I was on a roll.)

I couldn’t stop bitching about it, leaning over, again:  “AND!  CHAD!  In case you haven’t noticed, Layne Staley overdosed, and Kurt blew his brains out.  Eddie Vedder’s the only one who’s still around”.

My sister considered this, briefly, but then hit the bullseye:  “Yeah, but dude….when’s the last time Pearl Jam even played a show here?”   Ouch. I hate it when she’s right.

(P.S.  It was September 2009 and, since then, they chose to have their 20th Anniversary Celebration Concert in….Wisconsin, and their most recent gigs have included a festival with Jay-Z (?!), and an Oracle corporate event.  Not that I am keeping track.)

(P.P.S.  You know you have to go and watch the Moore Theatre-filmed video for “Evenflow” now, right?  Best line, at the beginning:  “This is not a TV studio….Josh!  Turn these lights out.  It’s a f*cking rock concert!”)

Ten

/ Deb / 3 Comments

I’m still wearing flip flops most days, my son wears shorts to school and my daughter refuses to wear a coat, but it’s undeniable that it is now fall. (I never realized that my children’s penchant for inappropriate seasonal attire came from me until I typed that sentence. Hmm.)  The rain is here and focus has shifted indoors, not that I really mind.  But it does feel like time to put away summertime music and concert memories.

Time, also, to put away the Pearl Jam cloud that I’ve been living under for the past few months. (“Alive…Encore Break“, “Twenty“).  But not, of course, without reflection.   Indulge me one last PJ post as I recount, in no particular order, my Top Ten favorite Pearl Jam concert memories (so far):

1.  Lollapalooza, July 1992, Kitsap County Fair Grounds.  My first time seeing them live, and I am totally hooked – no looking back.  Enough said.  (“Drop the Gyro and Run“).

2.  Magnuson Park, “Drop in the Park”, September 1992.   I’ve just started law school.  I probably should  be in the library, but the allure of a free show in Magnuson Park is infinitely more appealing than Crim Law.  Eddie climbs the trusses like a monkey and swings from a microphone cord.  The hook of PJ fandom and concert mania is set even further.

3.  RKCNDY, Seattle, 1994.  The secret show that never was.  Again, I should be home studying.   Instead, my friends and I go to see a side project of Mike McCready, certain that PJ will then play a secret show.  After his set, McCready grabs an electric guitar and says “we’ll be right back”.  This is it!  The secret show is going to happen!!  But then it doesn’t.

4.  The Gorge, 1993.   Pearl Jam opens for Neil Young.  Blind Melon opens for Pearl Jam, and their lead singer cusses out the crowd, saying he knows we are only there to see PJ.  Obviously he has issues, but my issue is that it’s a long-ass drive from the Gorge back home to Tacoma.

5.  Seattle Center Arena, 1993.   I finally notice that there are other band members besides Eddie Vedder.  (Dang, Stone is fun to watch!  And still is.)

6.  Key Arena, November 2000.  Shit, I have just turned 30 years old.  The band plays “Elderly Woman” (?!?)  Eddie, together with the crowd: “I just want to scream — Helloooooo….”  PJ had been snatched from me a year earlier when a friendship ended (“Alive, Encore Break“), but in that instant, I reclaim the band as mine.  Two people in front of us make out during the entire show.  I understand the sentiment, but not enough to avoid labelling them as idiots.  My sister and I throw things at them.  So much for being more mature at 30.

7.  Ben Harper show, Seattle, 2005.  A rare night out with my sisters after having two babies in two years.  An already amazing show from Ben, when Eddie shows up for the encore and joins him for a few songs. My sleep-deprived mind is blown.

8.  The Gorge, September 2005.  We have amazing dead-center seats.  The debate over “fist to the JAW” vs. “fist to the DOOR” intensifies, this round going to my husband.  Eddie tries to lure Tom Petty down from the hotel next door – “Hello Tom…….come down Tom….” (he doesn’t).  A damn near perfect setlist start to finish, including one of my favorite versions (ever) of “Yellow Ledbetter”, which segues into a cover of “Baba O’Reilly”.  I have a recording of this show, and I run to it all the time.  You can’t help but pick up your pace when “Porch” comes on.

9.  The Gorge, July 2006.  It is, no lie, 109 degrees.  Proving my theory that fans love it when musicians say the F word, the crowd goes wild when Eddie observes, “it’s fucking HOT!”   Eddie sneaks out to the roof above the sound board to sing “Given to Fly”.  Amazing.  Perfect.  And yes, fucking hot.

And, finally…….the most recent show, destined to be one of my favorites, for a million reasons:

10.  Vancouver BC, September 2011.  Long Canadian-cash-only beer lines, and even longer cab lines.  We (kind of, almost) see our friend get in a fight over a cab, but he emerges victorious.  I get my Concert Moment, and then some, when it seems that 95% of the setlist has been channeled directly from my brain to the band.  (I got a spot at Lukin’s!)  It’s my husband’s birthday, and PJ sings Happy Birthday to him (well, actually they are singing to one of their crew, but really, what are the odds?).   I punch him — “sweetie, Eddie is singing to YOU!!!”  He is appreciative, but not as excited about it as I am.

A pretty darn perfect weekend all around, topped with international intrigue as we see two people arrested at the border on the way home.  Were they smuggling plans for a secret Seattle PJ show back into the U.S.?  Because I am still waiting for one…

Twenty

/ Deb / Leave a comment

My head is still spinning from last night’s “Pearl Jam 20”, the new Cameron Crowe-directed documentary.  All day yesterday I was antsy, mostly because I realized that it was the 19 year anniversary of the Drop in the Park show at Magnuson Park.  In my head all day, and later to my friends:  “Nineteen?  Really?  NINEteen?  NineTEEN!”

I am overly-nostalgic and live in my head a lot anyway, so the intersection of this anniversary with the release of the movie was almost too much.  I loved every minute of the movie, and I’ve got to get these thoughts down, brain-drain style:

  • It is hilarious, yet somehow fitting, that I could smell weed while in line for the movie.  Obviously to some, the event wasn’t too different from a concert.
  • I love that I went to the movie with five people who I have known for the entire 20-year run of Pearl Jam and have gone to shows with [including Life Altering Concert #1 (“Drop the Gyro and Run”), and, of course, the Magnuson Park show].
  • All of the old footage was priceless.  Long hair!  Headbanging! Stage Diving!  Eddie climbing everything like a damn monkey.
  • Best nugget from the movie:  Jeff Ament describing how he’s always been stoked to play every show; that they’ve never phoned it in.  This was my “hell yes” moment – it is EXACTLY what I’ve always said to people when defending my concert habit — I’ve never seen a bad show from Pearl Jam – always new/different, and they always look like they are having fun. That’s what keeps me coming back.
  • Eddie described how, on stage, there’s not much difference between the band and the fans.  I can’t remember the words he used, but the idea was that it’s a give and take, drawing off the energy of each other.  I’ve always felt that way about concerts, and wondered if the band can feel the energy change on different songs.  I love that they understand what the fans’ experience is like, and that they would be out in the pit, too, if they weren’t on stage.

My main take-away:  go ahead and mock me for my PJ fandom (and I know you do).  I’m not ashamed of it.  But it’s not, and never has been, an “ooh, Eddie’s so dreamy” kind of thing.  As much as I may worship at the Altar of Vedder, I’ve always said that I would love to just hang out with the band and have a beer.  The movie just confirmed what we, as fans, already knew.  A bunch of great guys, now 20 years older just like the rest of us, who happen to play in an epic band.

And go ahead and mock me for my concert habit, and the fact that I’m traveling to Vancouver BC this weekend to see, who else…Pearl Jam.  If you don’t love live music – have never lost yourself in a show – you will never get it.  And that’s OK.  But for me, and thousands of fans like me, live music is money well spent.  It is timeless, and you are never too old (or too young) for it.  How lucky are we, that there are bands who love it as much as we do, and are happy to oblige.

Finally last night, nostalgia gave way to thankfulness, and I left feeling lucky to have grown up with this band for the past twenty years.  I happily hopped in the booster seat-filled minivan that the 21-year-old me swore she would never drive, blared “Evenflow”, and rocked home to relieve the babysitter.    Bring on PJ30 and PJ40….and count me in.

The Last Show Before Everything Changed

/ Deb / 3 Comments

Remember Pete Yorn?  He had a catchy hit back in 2001, and a great album, musicforthemorningafter.  Pete weighs heavily in my musical past for two reasons.  First, in the days before iPods, his CD was in heavy rotation on a fabulous road trip my husband and I took that summer, and, second, he was the last show I saw before finding out we were pregnant with our first child.

We saw him at The Showbox in the late fall of 2001.  I love that venue, and it was a fun show – pretty mellow, good people-watching.  What was unique was that it was just the two of us.  Usually we attended shows with other people, but that night was just us.  I wore jeans and sassy boots, and we had a great time. 

On Christmas Day, we found out we were expecting our first child.  (The best Christmas present ever, yes?)  That show became etched in my brain as the last time that we were out on the town just as “us”….not us plus “Lil’ B”, our in utero nickname for our oldest.

I had a vaguely defined goal that I would be a hip pregnant woman, and an even hipper mom.  Nothing would slow me down.   I went to a few mellow concerts while I was pregnant, and I even went to Las Vegas (which really sucks when all you want to do is sleep).   The line was drawn, however, at The Gorge.  I bought tickets for the Sasquatch Festival but ultimately, while six months pregnant, sitting out in the desert heat (in the midst of neighboring herbal fumes) just didn’t seem like a great idea.  Also influencing that decision was the fact that my mother had threatened an intervention –  something along the lines of, “over my dead body are you taking my yet-to-be-born grandchild to that concert in the middle of nowhere”.  My sisters went without me, sold my tickets alongside the road, and I spent the weekend at home, nesting.  It was all OK.

Everyone who is a parent knows how hard it is to remember what it was like before the little ones came into your lives.  In the years since then, we’ve talked about that Pete Yorn show and always say, “wait…..who babysat?”, before realizing that no babysitter was yet needed.

If you know me, then you understand that I am overly sentimental.  Commercials make me cry, and my kids give me sideways glances at sad parts of movies, knowing that I will be crying.  So I am a sucker for this: TONIGHT – two kids, many shows, and a Big Birthday later – Pete Yorn is playing at the Showbox (SoDo location, but still!!).  I am looking forward to a date night out with my husband, and I know that the evening will be filled with nostalgia for me.   I still have the same jeans and sassy boots – although I probably won’t wear them – but I am so happy that, after all these years and through so many changes, my sweetie will still be at my side.

A 1987 Bono for the New Year

/ Deb / 2 Comments

I found the old t-shirt at the bottom of a drawer, and I am taking it as a sign.  Ordinarily it wouldn’t be, but fresh in my memory were two things:  1) a recent viewing of “It Might Get Loud” that reminded me how much I love U2 and The Edge’s trademark guitar riffs, and 2) a discussion with a friend at a New Years’ Eve party, where I lamely tried to justify why I didn’t buy tickets to the upcoming U2 show.

On the heels of these two things,  the discovery of the Joshua Tree concert t-shirt (buried deep in a drawer) was therefore quickly elevated to “sign” status.

Long before there was Pearl Jam in my life, there was U2.  I loved their distinct sound, and to the junior high small town girl that I was, they seemed worldly and sophisticated.  I had The Unforgettable Fire on cassette and made a mix tape for myself, shuffling the songs into an order that I liked, and repeating others.  (So high tech, wasn’t I…. to have a double tape deck for dubbing?)

The Joshua Tree album nursed me through the late Summer and Fall of 1987, after my older boyfriend broke my heart and ditched me for the bright lights of college and college girls.  But I had Bono, the boyfriend had never liked U2 anyway, and the music on that album was perfect for an autumn of hometown teenage angst.

Years later, I’ve worn the Joshua Tree t-shirt a lot, although I feel like a fraud when I do, since I never went to a show on that tour (the closest they came to my small town was 200 miles away).   I do, however, love the shirt.  It belonged to a guy whom I dated later that fall.  It was a brief and mostly forgettable relationship of convenience, borne out of the fact that our friends were dating.  But he did have great taste in music, and I got custody of the t-shirt.

Which brings me to the New Year’s Eve conversation.

U2 was supposed to play here last summer, and the concert got re-scheduled for this coming June, due to Bono’s back surgery.   My friend and I were talking about The Edge, and then discussion turned to the upcoming show, and how excited he was for it.  He asked whether I had tickets, and I told him no.

I explained how I had seen U2 in 1992 at the Tacoma Dome, and had been underwhelmed.  I had been so excited for that show, to see one of my long-time favorite bands.  But the band was in a weird phase then; they had decided not to play any pre-Unforgettable Fire songs.  The venue was terrible, more suited for monster trucks than concerts.  I heard nearly all of Joshua Tree, which was great, but mostly Achtung Baby.  No “Sunday Bloody Sunday”, no “New Year’s Day”, none of the early stuff.  I didn’t get my Concert Moment (“Oh, You Like the Banjo, Eh?”), and I’ve never felt the need to go and see them again.

I explained this to my friend, earnestly.  Was I trying to make myself believe it?  His look said it all:  You call yourself a longtime fan, a teenager of the 80’s, and you don’t want to go to this concert?

But therein lies the problem:  I want to see 1987 U2, not the U2 from 2011.  I want Bono and The Edge with long hair, before they were UN ambassadors and had back problems.   I want “Sunday Bloody Sunday” and “New Year’s Day” and all of Unforgettable Fire and Joshua Tree, not any new stuff that has already been featured in an iPod commercial by the time you see it.

I understand that when bands have been around for awhile, they can’t make everyone happy.  Really, I do.  And I get the fact that the music needs to stay interesting for them, too.  Still, as a concert-goer, I am selfish.  I want what I want.  And what I want is U2 from 1987.

However, the fact that it’s not 1987’s U2 was probably my friend’s most persuasive point.  He said “you know, with the back problems and all….they aren’t going to be around forever”.   A reminder of our mortality, and on the heels of my Big Birthday, too.   Point taken…. now I am looking for tickets.

Jerry Garcia in Solid Gold

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Today I listened to an old Dave Matthews Band show from August 9, 1995. This was the day that Jerry Garcia died, I had just taken the Bar Exam, and, three years later, it would be my wedding day.

This is what music is all about for me. I remember that exact day so clearly — driving in my old car, a.k.a. “Solid Gold”, when I heard that Jerry had died.  I was bummed that I had never gotten around to seeing the Dead in concert. I was never really into their music, but I have always loved the pot-smoking Dead Heads.   It was on my list of things to do, but darn law school got in the way.

The other thing that occurred to me was that, in 1995, I was barely a DMB fan yet.  Otherwise, I probably would have been at that show, which was in Eugene….and was a great show. My DMB memories of that 1995 summer, though, consist of a Madison Park apartment and the guy who would, exactly three years later, become my husband.

On that August day in 1995, I had no idea where I was heading, or how big a part of my life DMB’s music would become. What if I had been at that Eugene show? Or what if I had gone to a Dead show before Jerry died? Would things have turned out differently somehow? (or, to borrow a line from Dave…..”could I have been anyone other than me?”)

And yet, of course, the beauty was in not knowing what would unfold. The years since then have been filled with love, great music, and more happiness than I could have asked for.  Many years and countless concerts, and two kids later — I listen to Dave from long ago, and marvel at it all.