From the RT list, by request.
I write you from one of those motel rooms that's like the hygienically sealed compartment of a pill minder--all closed up, just the one door, all sort of plastic.
Even that can't dampen my joy. An astonishingly unpromising yesterday gave way to today: a smooth drive to North Carolina, a bit of resting and drinking and primping, and off to this venue I'd never seen before.
The Arts Center is small. Very small. Reminds me of the sort of black-box theater where the community college does its cross-cultural, anti-patriarchal rewrite of Coriolanus, with string section. I think it held 300 people, but it seemed like fewer than that.
There a modest two hours early, I was told that there were no tickets that had come available and that maybe I'd get lucky outside the venue. I wandered the lobby as Richard soundchecked behind the big doors, trying to look insouciant and functional. A turn toward the exterior doors and there was this tall man staring at me.
It took me a second to recognize him. His name is Don, and I think I first met him near Ground Zero in NYC a couple of years ago. Great guy. I greeted him warmly and then said, hoping it wasn't too rude to cut to the chase: "Do you have an extra ticket?"
He reached in his pocket and said, "It was meant to be." His guest was unable to come, so he'd driven his three hours with the spare ticket in his pocket.
Our celebratory beers meant I wasn't quite as far up in the line as usual and had to settle for (gasp!) second row. Richard emerged from the curtains at the middle of the back of the stage, which I don't think I've ever seen before (usually seems to be left or right wings, right?). And here's what we got.
--I Feel So Good
--Put It There, Pal (a real surprise to me)
A query from RT about how "somebody's team did better than somebody else's team" elicited lots of cheers and whatnot. (I guess UNC beat Duke? I'd assumed the cheering in the passing cars and the helicopters overhead were for Our Man.) He went on to tell a story of being in Italy during an Italy-France soccer final.
Some discussion of various public figures ("that chap from Lehman Brothers,,that Mr. Madoff with all the money...politicians...some figures from the entertainment industry") led into
--Time's Gonna Break You
and then
--Hope You Like the New Me
This was hard stuff for the less angry and vengeful among us, and RT said he'd go more upbeat--although still "miserable"--with
--Dad's Gonna Kill Me
He then talked about the upcoming Cabaret of Souls song cycle and said he'd play us something from it. He said it was from the point of view of a woman in the entertainment world--"but it's not Madonna; this song distinctly says she's got three husbands and Madonna's only got two."
--"I Want the World and Everything In It" might be the name of this cleverly written song, which portends well for the State College performance. It's got one double-entendre that knocks "taking his dictation" into a paper hat, if you ask me. (Was this song done somewhere last year? I've never heard it, but I think other people described hearing it?)
In introducing
--I Want To See the Bright Lights Tonight
RT repeated that old joke about being half Scottish and half Irish--"so half of me is dying for a drink and the other half is too tight to pay for it."
During
--Sunset Song
a fellow in the front row disappeared and then returned with a bottle of Guinness, which he placed at Richard's feet.
--1952 Vincent Black Lightning (Triunphs, Nortons, Beezers)
--Old Thames Side
...possibly the highlight of the night for me....a strikingly different arrangement, such that I didn't even recognize it at first.
I finally succumbed to the biological imperative at the beginning of
--Crawl Back
and was able to catch most of the song, 'cause I'm quick, from the back of the room. I was struck by how incredibly natural and clean RT's guitar sounded, back there by the sound booth. It sounded more "amplified" up front, which is only to be expected and I have no complaints.
Finally, after this one, the beer donor could no longer resist--"Have a drink!" RT explained that he doesn't drink. "It's for your Irish side" the generous fellow prodded. RT had to confess that he isn't really half-Irish, though he may be an eighth Irish. The subject hung in the air, a bit awkwardly, for just a second before some guy in mid-crowd deadpanned, "Can I have it?" Whereupon the poor front-row guy snatched it back ("Clearly, that's a no," quipped RT).
All of which was a nice lead-in to
--God Loves a Drunk
and maybe because I'd had two beers, or maybe because I was intoxicated by the show, I began scribbling about things I was half-seeing in the guitar body, like fairies in Victorian photographs: the feminine curve left by the missing pick guard, the lines down the bottom of the guitar, bleeding down from mid-forearm, from rivulets of sweat. I wrote, "This is not a guy who buys paintings to match his furniture."
After this song, RT made an observation that his audience is getting older, clearly referring to the number of us who had needed to duck out at one point or another. He messed with some allusion to a blues song in which he'd inserted the word "bladders." Thank God he dropped the topic and then launched into
--Cooksferry Queen
I have to say that, as good as the show had been, I'd had this strange sense right up to this point that RT was sort of closed up inside himself more than usual tonight--despite the sports quips and such. Now, though, it was as if something else had taken over: I guess it's the machine that is that song. I love the way it seems like it lives, coiled, inside that framework of guitar and man, then springs out at us all wild yet controlled, then pops back in as if it hadn't just changed the world a little bit.
--The Great Valerio
was preceded by much Satie trivia.
--Johnny's Far Away
was very well received--lots of appreciative laughter. There was also a hilarious quip about a Prius that I'll just keep to myself, thank you, unless you buy me a drink.
--The Sun Never Shines on the Poor (another surprise to me, with ridiculously ornate, beautiful "Spanish" guitar)
--Persuasion (much loved by the audience)
--Valerie
He left. Came back for Encore 1 asking the crowd to sing their team song. They seemed befuddled. He sang "Blue is the colo(u)r...." and said it's one of his team's songs. Then he asked for requests and, of course, got
--Beeswing
I began pondering and scribbling about how he does this song over and over again and still makes it credible and moving, then paused in my words and thoughts just as he sang "Maybe that's just the price you pay for the chains you refuse." I wonder whether that's my answer.
He went away again. Standing, applauding, and so on, Second encore--by now people were just yelling requests willy-nilly. An early one was
--Tear Stained Letter
He said he can't play it without a band, but even though he went on to get more requests, he kind of nudged us into sticking with this one and being his band: the stage-left side the horns, the stage-right side the harmony vocals. The energy level among all concerned was a tonic.
He finished with a lovely, fading-away-by-walking-back
--I Misunderstood
and then "King of the Road" comes on and we're all getting the coats we don't need because it's 67 degrees outside, and I drive home (or "home") to my capsule-of-the-day feeling like spring is truly here.
And I apologize for any tense confusion here. I was feeling, thinking, in present tense, as if I were still there. I think I went back and made it all past, but it doesn't really feel past, you know?
Pam (hoping someone else will report on tomorrow night's show)
Monday, March 9, 2009
Sunday, November 2, 2008
"Hard on Me"
This is a little description I wrote for the RT list's page that discusses our top RT songs.
There are songs that come in like a gentle breeze and then pick up gale force, and then there is "Hard On Me," an eyeless hurricane. Like "Shoot Out the Lights," it enters with a pounding riff that lets you know you're in for heavy weather. You can bang your head to this one, for sure, but you're better off letting Richard do the banging. It's an angry lyric, this dark scrawl of a son's frustration with his father, full of images of impotence, futility, oppression. But it's a Richard Thompson song, so there's going to be that moment of almost throwaway compassion: "Hard on me/Like they were hard on you." A fistful of monosyllables hoists the weight of the shackles passed down from father to son.
But I'm giving you too many metaphors here. Stand in front of the speakers and pretend you're at the foot of a concert stage, where so many of the Thompson faithful have stood before. Close your eyes and let the beautiful rage wash over you. And if you really want to pretend to be the most anoraklike of Thompson fans, do as we did on show after show on the Mock Tudor tour: check those watches and time that solo.
There are songs that come in like a gentle breeze and then pick up gale force, and then there is "Hard On Me," an eyeless hurricane. Like "Shoot Out the Lights," it enters with a pounding riff that lets you know you're in for heavy weather. You can bang your head to this one, for sure, but you're better off letting Richard do the banging. It's an angry lyric, this dark scrawl of a son's frustration with his father, full of images of impotence, futility, oppression. But it's a Richard Thompson song, so there's going to be that moment of almost throwaway compassion: "Hard on me/Like they were hard on you." A fistful of monosyllables hoists the weight of the shackles passed down from father to son.
But I'm giving you too many metaphors here. Stand in front of the speakers and pretend you're at the foot of a concert stage, where so many of the Thompson faithful have stood before. Close your eyes and let the beautiful rage wash over you. And if you really want to pretend to be the most anoraklike of Thompson fans, do as we did on show after show on the Mock Tudor tour: check those watches and time that solo.
Lime Kiln, Lexington, VA, July 1998
From the RT list. Thanks, Dan.
Dave Deegan (Hi, neighbor!) wrote really nicely about Lime Kiln. Now I can
barge in and add some stuff.
[DD] The Theater at Lime Kiln is amongst the nicest venues anyone could ever see
a concert.
I took a lot of pictures; if any of them come out, I'll try and put them up
on a page or something. I can't stress enough how beautiful and unusual
the setting is.
[DD] Dressed in the almost-too stylish combination of black on black
on black, with a tartan-plaid guitar strap for contrast, Richard seemed
relaxed, confidant, in command of his singing and playing, and happy to be
on stage.
I saw his shoes. Yes, Reeboks, with Union Jacks.
[DD] "Irish Dance Tune" (identified as ?? - I already inadvertantly deleted it!
Banish Misfortune. I think. Now wait, maybe it was Choice Wife...anyone
remember?
[DD] Pam was too modest to point out to
the list that when he intro'd "Genesis Hall" he talked about the folk-rock
band he played with in the sixties (and that most of the audience looked as
if they were around in the sixties, too), and their great singer Sandy
Denny who used to sing this song. And then, as he launched into the tune,
said "This is for Pam" with a wink!
I didn't see a wink! I saw his head sorta dart around, and I waved like a
damn fool from the back row. I will NEVER get over that moment. I confess
that I've been waiting for someone else to mention the dedication so I
didn't have to! :^)
A few more observations:
He played the beginning of "Dueling Banjos" and quipped "That's from around
here, isn't it?" I don't know if that remark went over so well!
People around me were laughing through much of the first verse of "God
Loves a Drunk."
In "Pharaoh" he changed a word in each chorus: "Tell me, brother" became
"Tell me, sister" and then "Tell me, brothers." This was very effective.
In "The Ghost of You Walks" he returned to his original order of lines:
the "took the biggest bite" part preceded the "took it all at a rush" part.
He's reversed them for a long time now.
His guitar arrangements showed more variation than usual. I can't remember
any examples, and even if I did, I probably wouldn't have the language to
describe them.
At the end of the show proper, he told us that he was going to
"demythologize show business" by going up the hill and "becoming a tree."
Sure enough, as the ovation swelled, he tossed the green towel over his
head and assumed a branchy stance. I'll pay for a photo if anyone's got a
good one!
[DD] So anyway. It was a great show in a gorgeous place. It's fun to daydream
about all of our cyber-friends being able to assemble there for a show some
other year.
If the list ever decides to assemble en masse for a concert, this would be
a good place to do it.
Sigh....
Pam (who didn't request anything from RT!)
Dave Deegan (Hi, neighbor!) wrote really nicely about Lime Kiln. Now I can
barge in and add some stuff.
[DD] The Theater at Lime Kiln is amongst the nicest venues anyone could ever see
a concert.
I took a lot of pictures; if any of them come out, I'll try and put them up
on a page or something. I can't stress enough how beautiful and unusual
the setting is.
[DD] Dressed in the almost-too stylish combination of black on black
on black, with a tartan-plaid guitar strap for contrast, Richard seemed
relaxed, confidant, in command of his singing and playing, and happy to be
on stage.
I saw his shoes. Yes, Reeboks, with Union Jacks.
[DD] "Irish Dance Tune" (identified as ?? - I already inadvertantly deleted it!
Banish Misfortune. I think. Now wait, maybe it was Choice Wife...anyone
remember?
[DD] Pam was too modest to point out to
the list that when he intro'd "Genesis Hall" he talked about the folk-rock
band he played with in the sixties (and that most of the audience looked as
if they were around in the sixties, too), and their great singer Sandy
Denny who used to sing this song. And then, as he launched into the tune,
said "This is for Pam" with a wink!
I didn't see a wink! I saw his head sorta dart around, and I waved like a
damn fool from the back row. I will NEVER get over that moment. I confess
that I've been waiting for someone else to mention the dedication so I
didn't have to! :^)
A few more observations:
He played the beginning of "Dueling Banjos" and quipped "That's from around
here, isn't it?" I don't know if that remark went over so well!
People around me were laughing through much of the first verse of "God
Loves a Drunk."
In "Pharaoh" he changed a word in each chorus: "Tell me, brother" became
"Tell me, sister" and then "Tell me, brothers." This was very effective.
In "The Ghost of You Walks" he returned to his original order of lines:
the "took the biggest bite" part preceded the "took it all at a rush" part.
He's reversed them for a long time now.
His guitar arrangements showed more variation than usual. I can't remember
any examples, and even if I did, I probably wouldn't have the language to
describe them.
At the end of the show proper, he told us that he was going to
"demythologize show business" by going up the hill and "becoming a tree."
Sure enough, as the ovation swelled, he tossed the green towel over his
head and assumed a branchy stance. I'll pay for a photo if anyone's got a
good one!
[DD] So anyway. It was a great show in a gorgeous place. It's fun to daydream
about all of our cyber-friends being able to assemble there for a show some
other year.
If the list ever decides to assemble en masse for a concert, this would be
a good place to do it.
Sigh....
Pam (who didn't request anything from RT!)
Birchmere, October 28, 1999
From the RT list. Thanks, Dan.
Any reviewer who's honest will acknowledge that objectivity is a subjective
trait.
Ick. I've written that sentence, and now I want to peel it off the screen,
wad it up, and lob it at the wastebasket. Too pompous, too Latinate. But
true. How can you assess something without taking your emotions, blood
pressure, itchy contact lenses, tedious office politics, and other alleged
irrelevancies into account?
I had a burrito for lunch, from a place where the food always makes me
sick. I think it's MSG or something. By the time I arrived at the
Birchmere, two hours before the show started, I had a pounding headache. I
was weary and cranky from the traffic.
Yes, I was thrilled to get a decent seat (thanks be to Barry Beiseigel, who
had a much better line number than mine), to scarf up some of those lovely
tour T-shirts, and to be in the company of friends (including my husband).
But maybe there was some kind of lingering malaise...here I nearly had my
show spoiled by a bad burrito.
The band was hot and tight and loud. "Cooksferry Queen" started things off
with a neat kick. That song, brilliant, just runs itself; Richard could do
it in his sleep. (But he doesn't.)
And on through the beginning of the first five songs of Mock Tudor...but
something, at least for me, was odd. There was a negative vibe. There was
a joylessness, a gravity. Not that this was necessarily a bad thing; it
was very intense. It was as if the band had to play or the bus would
explode. It wasn't angry, but it seethed with a grim determination.
By "Hard On Me," the dark push forward was obvious. It couldn't have been
just me and my headache by then; it was the song, too, that strained at its
leads, a life force that wouldn't cease--not driven by love or anger, but
just life.
The end solo started. I thought about the list members tallying the time
of the solo, wondered briefly who had a stopwatch. But I wasn't distracted
for long. I watched and listened to Richard, and the solo told me a
subplot, its own story. We were all in the dark, but Richard, by means of
his guitar, was tunneling us out. His intentions carried us forward.
Hope grew in the sound. He'd move ahead, all aural twists and obstacles
and terrors, but he'd come back and get us every so often, with sounds that
we could understand. And then we were out of the darkness, but we still
weren't safe, for all around were lights and guard towers, guns and razor
wire. But he kept on, relentless, and we were with him, trusting his power
even when we didn't understand it. And then, at some point, all the
barriers had disappeared. The journey had taken on its own importance, and
walls and darkness, chairs and tables, audience and performers, all were
irrelevant.
But of course the moment you realize such a thought, the magic moment is over.
I guess I was still tired, for even though I knew it was a good show, I was
oddly detached through a lovely "Jennie" (I like the bass flute) and "She
Twists The Knife Again" (a song with an itchy energy that, to my state of
mind at the time, was more distracting than enfolding).
Somehow "Persuasion" was a rebirth. Maybe it was so loud in the Birchmere
that our ears needed a break. Maybe my ibuprofen kicked in. Who knows?
Richard and Teddy wove their voices together so beautifully that something
sacred happened. I've heard it before; I'll hear it again. Tonight was
still special.
"Sights and Sounds of London Town," not a great favorite of mine, was
delightful. Again I'll get all newagey and say that the energy had turned
positive. The remainder of the show had a bouncy, ballsy power that was
mesmerizing. Richard did lots of surf riffs. Teddy hopped up and down.
Michael Jerome was sweating like a lemonade on the Fourth of July.
I can't recall many more of the details because I was drunk. Not on
beer--on the music. I couldn't believe how good it was; I couldn't believe
how the band could just keep going, through two encores. I know that I
gave in to my id and sang along with "Bright Lights" and "Wall of Death."
(I hope I didn't ruin anyone's live or Memorex experience of the show.)
You know, it was hard to sit all that time. I think I'd have been less
tired if we could have stood. For "Walking the Long Miles Home," Richard
quipped that we should all stroll around the room, a la musical chairs.
That might have been a treat, had we been able to manage it. Alas, the
sold-out room was packed, with peripatetic servers providing the only
offstage action.
We did a fair amount of sedentary bopping. (No, wait, that sounds like
sex. Someone else who was at the show, please share Richard's observations
about horizontal and vertical music.)
"When The Spell Is Broken" sounds really fresh. "Razor Dance," which
concluded the last encore, was a revelation, with a new, idiosyncratic
arrangement that makes the song even sharper. There were no surprises in
the set list; the surprises were in the execution of a very strong set of
songs.
Richard signed at least a few autographs, and I was amused to see several
people jump out of his autograph line in favor of greeting Michael Jerome.
My husband was impressed by Jerome--couldn't believe he was making all that
noise with brushes. He must have to replace the damn things every night.
So my contact lenses are dried out, my head still hurts, and my shoulders
are tired from clapping. Full pseudojournalistic disclosure there. I
can't say how much my mood affected this little essay, but I can say that
the concert affected my mood. I have a pocket full of tickets for upcoming
shows--and a smile on my face when I think about them.
Any reviewer who's honest will acknowledge that objectivity is a subjective
trait.
Ick. I've written that sentence, and now I want to peel it off the screen,
wad it up, and lob it at the wastebasket. Too pompous, too Latinate. But
true. How can you assess something without taking your emotions, blood
pressure, itchy contact lenses, tedious office politics, and other alleged
irrelevancies into account?
I had a burrito for lunch, from a place where the food always makes me
sick. I think it's MSG or something. By the time I arrived at the
Birchmere, two hours before the show started, I had a pounding headache. I
was weary and cranky from the traffic.
Yes, I was thrilled to get a decent seat (thanks be to Barry Beiseigel, who
had a much better line number than mine), to scarf up some of those lovely
tour T-shirts, and to be in the company of friends (including my husband).
But maybe there was some kind of lingering malaise...here I nearly had my
show spoiled by a bad burrito.
The band was hot and tight and loud. "Cooksferry Queen" started things off
with a neat kick. That song, brilliant, just runs itself; Richard could do
it in his sleep. (But he doesn't.)
And on through the beginning of the first five songs of Mock Tudor...but
something, at least for me, was odd. There was a negative vibe. There was
a joylessness, a gravity. Not that this was necessarily a bad thing; it
was very intense. It was as if the band had to play or the bus would
explode. It wasn't angry, but it seethed with a grim determination.
By "Hard On Me," the dark push forward was obvious. It couldn't have been
just me and my headache by then; it was the song, too, that strained at its
leads, a life force that wouldn't cease--not driven by love or anger, but
just life.
The end solo started. I thought about the list members tallying the time
of the solo, wondered briefly who had a stopwatch. But I wasn't distracted
for long. I watched and listened to Richard, and the solo told me a
subplot, its own story. We were all in the dark, but Richard, by means of
his guitar, was tunneling us out. His intentions carried us forward.
Hope grew in the sound. He'd move ahead, all aural twists and obstacles
and terrors, but he'd come back and get us every so often, with sounds that
we could understand. And then we were out of the darkness, but we still
weren't safe, for all around were lights and guard towers, guns and razor
wire. But he kept on, relentless, and we were with him, trusting his power
even when we didn't understand it. And then, at some point, all the
barriers had disappeared. The journey had taken on its own importance, and
walls and darkness, chairs and tables, audience and performers, all were
irrelevant.
But of course the moment you realize such a thought, the magic moment is over.
I guess I was still tired, for even though I knew it was a good show, I was
oddly detached through a lovely "Jennie" (I like the bass flute) and "She
Twists The Knife Again" (a song with an itchy energy that, to my state of
mind at the time, was more distracting than enfolding).
Somehow "Persuasion" was a rebirth. Maybe it was so loud in the Birchmere
that our ears needed a break. Maybe my ibuprofen kicked in. Who knows?
Richard and Teddy wove their voices together so beautifully that something
sacred happened. I've heard it before; I'll hear it again. Tonight was
still special.
"Sights and Sounds of London Town," not a great favorite of mine, was
delightful. Again I'll get all newagey and say that the energy had turned
positive. The remainder of the show had a bouncy, ballsy power that was
mesmerizing. Richard did lots of surf riffs. Teddy hopped up and down.
Michael Jerome was sweating like a lemonade on the Fourth of July.
I can't recall many more of the details because I was drunk. Not on
beer--on the music. I couldn't believe how good it was; I couldn't believe
how the band could just keep going, through two encores. I know that I
gave in to my id and sang along with "Bright Lights" and "Wall of Death."
(I hope I didn't ruin anyone's live or Memorex experience of the show.)
You know, it was hard to sit all that time. I think I'd have been less
tired if we could have stood. For "Walking the Long Miles Home," Richard
quipped that we should all stroll around the room, a la musical chairs.
That might have been a treat, had we been able to manage it. Alas, the
sold-out room was packed, with peripatetic servers providing the only
offstage action.
We did a fair amount of sedentary bopping. (No, wait, that sounds like
sex. Someone else who was at the show, please share Richard's observations
about horizontal and vertical music.)
"When The Spell Is Broken" sounds really fresh. "Razor Dance," which
concluded the last encore, was a revelation, with a new, idiosyncratic
arrangement that makes the song even sharper. There were no surprises in
the set list; the surprises were in the execution of a very strong set of
songs.
Richard signed at least a few autographs, and I was amused to see several
people jump out of his autograph line in favor of greeting Michael Jerome.
My husband was impressed by Jerome--couldn't believe he was making all that
noise with brushes. He must have to replace the damn things every night.
So my contact lenses are dried out, my head still hurts, and my shoulders
are tired from clapping. Full pseudojournalistic disclosure there. I
can't say how much my mood affected this little essay, but I can say that
the concert affected my mood. I have a pocket full of tickets for upcoming
shows--and a smile on my face when I think about them.
Friday, October 31, 2008
October 2000--tour with Roger McGuinn
From the RT list. Edited to make more sense, I hope--my edits are in brackets.
Dates: Towson, Oct. 17, 2000; Harrisburg, Oct. 18, 2000.
Subject: [RTLIST] RT in Towson, MD
25 words or less:
Richard has a new shirt.
Richard sang a new song.
On "Tambourine Man" with McGuinn, Richard sang the high part.
He's hoarse. He's intrepid. Boffo.
Subject: [RTLIST] 150 words or more on Towson (mostly McGuinn)
OK, I'm barging in again...(yeah, Ben was at the same show, but I think
he's confusing Goucher with Gallaudet, which is in the same general region).
Scott said:
>BTW, Roger McGuinn was absolutely terrible. When he played Ballad of Easy
>Rider I wondered whether he wasn't embarrassed to play it in front of OH,
>who did such a fantastic cover. If the room hadn't been full of aging
>former hippies, he probably would have been booed off the stage. Those of
>you going to McGuinn shows, spend the first hour of the show in the bar
>and walk over afterwards.
McGuinn was actually heckled. He was having a hard time keeping his
12-string in tune (he had a 12-string acoustic, a banjo, and an electric
guitar that I know someone else can name-I'm blanking on the model). It
was very warm in the hall, and quite humid. So he finally set the
12-string aside and said, "I'm going to switch guitars." Whereupon some
rude bastard yelled something like "You should change music, too." (Scott,
I hope I didn't just call you a rude bastard!)
I'm not a McGuinn fan, but a lot of people seemed to enjoy him, rude
bastard notwithstanding. We (husband and I) thought he seemed very ill at
ease--and we have this thing about people demanding that we sing or clap
along, so we were conscientious objectors to his attempts to get us to join in.
Still, if you wait an hour before going in, you might miss some of
McGuinn's performance with RT, which was pretty entertaining. RT is a
generous accompanist--he really makes McGuinn sound better. And I liked
"Easy Rider," though it didn't hold a candle to Fairport's version.
Assuming that the McGuinn set in Harrisburg tonight is similar to last
night's, you'll definitely find me in the bar during that @%!^#$! chestnut
mare song, which opened last night's show. If there is a bar. I've never
been to this venue before.
By the way, last night's show started very late. I heard (unconfirmed)
that the reason was that the sound crew that was supposed to set up the
auditorium had been in a terrible traffic accident and had to be replaced
by a new crew. I hope everyone's OK. (I think this was a local crew--not
Simon, who was there, or anyone who travels with McGuinn.)
Subject: [RTLIST] Harrisburg, 18 October 2000
Holy Mother of Pearl, as I think someone on M*A*S*H used to say.
McGuinn was far better tonight, though maybe it was just because I was in
spitting distance (row A, seat 2...what can I do to ensure that I have this
seat at every RT concert I attend for the rest of my natural life? Lordy!)
and was getting the sound pretty directly, without a lot of speaker
distortion. He did "Bells of Rhymney," which was a real treat. On the
other hand, my clever attempt to miss "Chestnut Mare" by hanging out in the
lobby bar was foiled by a rearrangement of the set list.
Speaking of rearranged set lists, Richard shook his lottery barrel tonight
a wee bit. We got a lot of the same stuff as last night, but overall the
set list tonight was even stronger than last night's. And he didn't seem
to be in any throat distress. And he didn't flub a single line, as far as
I can recall. (And there I was, up front with my cue cards....)
He opened with "Walking the Long Miles Home." I hope that someone else
kept track of the rest of it. I remember these songs, not in this order
(and abbreviated 'cause I'm a lazy git who should be in bed): Galway to
Graceland, Ghost of You Walks, When the Spell Is Broken, Turning of the
Tide, Daddy Is a Mummy, Valerio, Waltzing's for Dreamers, Dry My Tears,
Uninhabited Man (I think....), Crawl Back, Valerie, Easy There Steady Now,
Mingus Eyes...what have I forgotten? (Oh. Vincent. Duh.)
Someone more techie than me should describe what he did with his tuning for
"Easy There Steady Now"--retuning the lowest string way down and thereby
simulating Danny a wee bit.
Highlights included a somewhat more polished version of "I Agree with Pat
Metheny," a Nader endorsement of sorts, a story about Ralph McTell's skewed
audience demographics, and the outburst of an obviously very young
attendee: "I love Richard Thompson!" to which RT gamely replied with a few
bars of Raffi's "Baby Beluga."
Anomalies noted: a ball cap with a red "F" on it during the duet with
McGuinn (for the main set it was back to the ol' beret/balmoral); something
pink wedged in at the head of the guitar (thumbpick?);
three-count-'em-three cheat sheets plus an index card from his pocket; more
elaborate stage lights than I've seen at a solo show in a while. (This was
a pretty posh setting--700 seats, two balconies.)
A spectacular show, well worth the drive, even without the stop for donuts.
Pam (on a sugar/caffeine high)
pmw@annapurna.com
P.S. Oh, yeah, though I was in spitting distance, I didn't spit. I got
spat upon, though, however inadvertently. And I didn't really have cue
cards, honestly.
Subject: [RTLIST] (1) McGuinn; (2) new thread
First off, I want to take back my "one-trick pony" comment on McGuinn's
guitar playing after sitting just a few feet from him last night. I was
especially impressed by the zeal with which he attacked "Eight Miles
High." But he's no slouch at banjo, blues guitar, and other un-Byrdsy
instrumental genres.
Driving to and from Harrisburg last night, I listened to Hejira and Perspex
Island back to back. I hit the CD "repeat" button a lot. Listening to
Robyn Hitchcock, I thought about covers. You know how Elvis Costello did
"Withered and Died" and RT did "Pump It Up"? I wondered about "song swaps"
(temporary, of course) that RT and other musicians could do.
I'd give Robyn a go at "She Steers By Lightning" (though maybe it's too
obviously Hitchcockian), and RT his best effort at "Child of the Universe."
Others?
Dates: Towson, Oct. 17, 2000; Harrisburg, Oct. 18, 2000.
Subject: [RTLIST] RT in Towson, MD
25 words or less:
Richard has a new shirt.
Richard sang a new song.
On "Tambourine Man" with McGuinn, Richard sang the high part.
He's hoarse. He's intrepid. Boffo.
Subject: [RTLIST] 150 words or more on Towson (mostly McGuinn)
OK, I'm barging in again...(yeah, Ben was at the same show, but I think
he's confusing Goucher with Gallaudet, which is in the same general region).
Scott said:
>BTW, Roger McGuinn was absolutely terrible. When he played Ballad of Easy
>Rider I wondered whether he wasn't embarrassed to play it in front of OH,
>who did such a fantastic cover. If the room hadn't been full of aging
>former hippies, he probably would have been booed off the stage. Those of
>you going to McGuinn shows, spend the first hour of the show in the bar
>and walk over afterwards.
McGuinn was actually heckled. He was having a hard time keeping his
12-string in tune (he had a 12-string acoustic, a banjo, and an electric
guitar that I know someone else can name-I'm blanking on the model). It
was very warm in the hall, and quite humid. So he finally set the
12-string aside and said, "I'm going to switch guitars." Whereupon some
rude bastard yelled something like "You should change music, too." (Scott,
I hope I didn't just call you a rude bastard!)
I'm not a McGuinn fan, but a lot of people seemed to enjoy him, rude
bastard notwithstanding. We (husband and I) thought he seemed very ill at
ease--and we have this thing about people demanding that we sing or clap
along, so we were conscientious objectors to his attempts to get us to join in.
Still, if you wait an hour before going in, you might miss some of
McGuinn's performance with RT, which was pretty entertaining. RT is a
generous accompanist--he really makes McGuinn sound better. And I liked
"Easy Rider," though it didn't hold a candle to Fairport's version.
Assuming that the McGuinn set in Harrisburg tonight is similar to last
night's, you'll definitely find me in the bar during that @%!^#$! chestnut
mare song, which opened last night's show. If there is a bar. I've never
been to this venue before.
By the way, last night's show started very late. I heard (unconfirmed)
that the reason was that the sound crew that was supposed to set up the
auditorium had been in a terrible traffic accident and had to be replaced
by a new crew. I hope everyone's OK. (I think this was a local crew--not
Simon, who was there, or anyone who travels with McGuinn.)
Subject: [RTLIST] Harrisburg, 18 October 2000
Holy Mother of Pearl, as I think someone on M*A*S*H used to say.
McGuinn was far better tonight, though maybe it was just because I was in
spitting distance (row A, seat 2...what can I do to ensure that I have this
seat at every RT concert I attend for the rest of my natural life? Lordy!)
and was getting the sound pretty directly, without a lot of speaker
distortion. He did "Bells of Rhymney," which was a real treat. On the
other hand, my clever attempt to miss "Chestnut Mare" by hanging out in the
lobby bar was foiled by a rearrangement of the set list.
Speaking of rearranged set lists, Richard shook his lottery barrel tonight
a wee bit. We got a lot of the same stuff as last night, but overall the
set list tonight was even stronger than last night's. And he didn't seem
to be in any throat distress. And he didn't flub a single line, as far as
I can recall. (And there I was, up front with my cue cards....)
He opened with "Walking the Long Miles Home." I hope that someone else
kept track of the rest of it. I remember these songs, not in this order
(and abbreviated 'cause I'm a lazy git who should be in bed): Galway to
Graceland, Ghost of You Walks, When the Spell Is Broken, Turning of the
Tide, Daddy Is a Mummy, Valerio, Waltzing's for Dreamers, Dry My Tears,
Uninhabited Man (I think....), Crawl Back, Valerie, Easy There Steady Now,
Mingus Eyes...what have I forgotten? (Oh. Vincent. Duh.)
Someone more techie than me should describe what he did with his tuning for
"Easy There Steady Now"--retuning the lowest string way down and thereby
simulating Danny a wee bit.
Highlights included a somewhat more polished version of "I Agree with Pat
Metheny," a Nader endorsement of sorts, a story about Ralph McTell's skewed
audience demographics, and the outburst of an obviously very young
attendee: "I love Richard Thompson!" to which RT gamely replied with a few
bars of Raffi's "Baby Beluga."
Anomalies noted: a ball cap with a red "F" on it during the duet with
McGuinn (for the main set it was back to the ol' beret/balmoral); something
pink wedged in at the head of the guitar (thumbpick?);
three-count-'em-three cheat sheets plus an index card from his pocket; more
elaborate stage lights than I've seen at a solo show in a while. (This was
a pretty posh setting--700 seats, two balconies.)
A spectacular show, well worth the drive, even without the stop for donuts.
Pam (on a sugar/caffeine high)
pmw@annapurna.com
P.S. Oh, yeah, though I was in spitting distance, I didn't spit. I got
spat upon, though, however inadvertently. And I didn't really have cue
cards, honestly.
Subject: [RTLIST] (1) McGuinn; (2) new thread
First off, I want to take back my "one-trick pony" comment on McGuinn's
guitar playing after sitting just a few feet from him last night. I was
especially impressed by the zeal with which he attacked "Eight Miles
High." But he's no slouch at banjo, blues guitar, and other un-Byrdsy
instrumental genres.
Driving to and from Harrisburg last night, I listened to Hejira and Perspex
Island back to back. I hit the CD "repeat" button a lot. Listening to
Robyn Hitchcock, I thought about covers. You know how Elvis Costello did
"Withered and Died" and RT did "Pump It Up"? I wondered about "song swaps"
(temporary, of course) that RT and other musicians could do.
I'd give Robyn a go at "She Steers By Lightning" (though maybe it's too
obviously Hitchcockian), and RT his best effort at "Child of the Universe."
Others?
Richard Thompson Scores Grizzly Man (Harp)
Build-A-Bear:
Richard Thompson Scores Werner Herzog’s Grizzly Flick
By Pamela Murray Winters
Director Werner Herzog once said, “Civilization is like a thin layer of ice upon a deep ocean of chaos and darkness.” For his documentary Grizzly Man, about Timothy Treadwell—a self-styled naturalist whose enthusiasm for getting inside the mind of the Alaskan brown bear was such that he ended up inside an Alaskan brown bear—Herzog demanded a soundtrack that drew on dark wildness.
Richard Thompson could have said no: “If you do a lot of soundtrack work you get used to having stuff chopped around, hacked up, ditched unceremoniously.” But given a chance to work with Herzog and two longtime friends—Erik Nelson, Grizzly Man's producer, and improvisational musician Henry Kaiser, who produced the film's music—Thompson signed on as the primary composer and performer.
The musicians didn't see the finished film before they began; they didn't work “to picture.” Instead, they followed the direction of Herzog and Kaiser, their knowledge of some of the film's scenes, and their own artistic impulses. “I didn't want to have a score written from millisecond to millisecond; I needed a basic mood and a climate,” says Herzog.
The creation spawned another creation: As the musicians worked at Berkeley, Calif.’s Fantasy Studios, Nelson shot a documentary of the process, called In the Edges. The title comes from Thompson: “If you rub the edges off music, you really take away the music itself. The music is in the edges; it's in the rough bits.”
“Werner was in the studio for the whole thing, which was, uh,” Thompson pauses for a long time, and then laughs: “Well, I won't say 'intimidating.' I think it was a kind of focus for everybody. Werner knew exactly what he wanted; he didn't necessarily know how to get there. That was our job: to figure out how to arrive at his vision.”
In the Edges shows Herzog directing his musicians to go bigger (to Thompson: “Plant your foot down. You are too melodious. Change the planet!”) or smaller (to Kaiser: “If you go too wild, I'll step and trample on your foot!”) It also contains music that didn't make it into Grizzly Man, including a duet between Thompson on guitar and Jim O'Rourke (Sonic Youth) on prepared piano.
A soundtrack album is planned, and In the Edges may be released as an extra feature when Grizzly Man comes out on DVD. Or maybe Herzog will again get his way: “It could really be a film on its own, in its own right,” he declares.
Harp, Sep/Oct 2005
Richard Thompson Scores Werner Herzog’s Grizzly Flick
By Pamela Murray Winters
Director Werner Herzog once said, “Civilization is like a thin layer of ice upon a deep ocean of chaos and darkness.” For his documentary Grizzly Man, about Timothy Treadwell—a self-styled naturalist whose enthusiasm for getting inside the mind of the Alaskan brown bear was such that he ended up inside an Alaskan brown bear—Herzog demanded a soundtrack that drew on dark wildness.
Richard Thompson could have said no: “If you do a lot of soundtrack work you get used to having stuff chopped around, hacked up, ditched unceremoniously.” But given a chance to work with Herzog and two longtime friends—Erik Nelson, Grizzly Man's producer, and improvisational musician Henry Kaiser, who produced the film's music—Thompson signed on as the primary composer and performer.
The musicians didn't see the finished film before they began; they didn't work “to picture.” Instead, they followed the direction of Herzog and Kaiser, their knowledge of some of the film's scenes, and their own artistic impulses. “I didn't want to have a score written from millisecond to millisecond; I needed a basic mood and a climate,” says Herzog.
The creation spawned another creation: As the musicians worked at Berkeley, Calif.’s Fantasy Studios, Nelson shot a documentary of the process, called In the Edges. The title comes from Thompson: “If you rub the edges off music, you really take away the music itself. The music is in the edges; it's in the rough bits.”
“Werner was in the studio for the whole thing, which was, uh,” Thompson pauses for a long time, and then laughs: “Well, I won't say 'intimidating.' I think it was a kind of focus for everybody. Werner knew exactly what he wanted; he didn't necessarily know how to get there. That was our job: to figure out how to arrive at his vision.”
In the Edges shows Herzog directing his musicians to go bigger (to Thompson: “Plant your foot down. You are too melodious. Change the planet!”) or smaller (to Kaiser: “If you go too wild, I'll step and trample on your foot!”) It also contains music that didn't make it into Grizzly Man, including a duet between Thompson on guitar and Jim O'Rourke (Sonic Youth) on prepared piano.
A soundtrack album is planned, and In the Edges may be released as an extra feature when Grizzly Man comes out on DVD. Or maybe Herzog will again get his way: “It could really be a film on its own, in its own right,” he declares.
Harp, Sep/Oct 2005
Action Packed review
This is from the Washington City Paper, May 11, 2001.
Action Packed: The Best of the Capitol Years
Richard Thompson
Capitol
"Of the three things I do—writing, recording, performing—probably recording is my least favorite," says a characteristically self-deprecating Richard Thompson in the press kit to his new album, Action Packed. And dammit, Richard, it shows. Comprising 16 tracks from his six albums with Capitol—released between 1988 and last year, when Thompson left the label of his own volition—as well as a new recording and two outtakes, Action Packed is a decidedly uneven collection. Although it may present Thompson's favorites among his recent compositions, it also offers some of the most egregious missteps in his 30-year recording history. Mitchell Froom produced four of Thompson's Capitol releases, and the resulting recordings are cluttered with synths and other injudiciously chosen lush-pop sounds that are at odds with the guitarist's essential rawness. Nowhere is this more apparent than on the gentle lost-love song "I Misunderstood," in which the elegant guitar figure that opens the song is buried under reverby keyboards and Casio-plastic percussion. The few songs that are spared undue Froomage—"1952 Vincent Black Lightning," "Beeswing," and "Waltzing's for Dreamers"—reinforce Thompson's folky cred but reveal only that one dimension of his work. Of the albums excerpted here, only 1999's Mock Tudor, produced by Tom Rothrock and Rob Schnapf, shows the quietly stubborn artist whose music is rooted in tradition but has rampantly blossomed into something neither folk nor rock. Four Mock Tudor tracks lead up to the fan bait at the end of Action Packed: "Persuasion," originally written for the film Sweet Talker, and the Mock Tudor outtakes "Mr. Rebound" and "Fully Qualified to Be Your Man." The outtakes are as purely Thompson as anything on Mock Tudor: The former is a Celtic/Moroccan-sounding cuckold's plaint, the latter a double-entendre-laden punk-pop romp. But it's "Persuasion" that should make the Capitol suits sorry they let Thompson get away: With spare yet rich acoustic instrumentation and vocal harmonies—Thompson sings most of the backup, with the lead taken by his silken-voiced son Teddy—it's more radio-friendly than anything else in Thompson's iconoclastic back catalog.
Action Packed: The Best of the Capitol Years
Richard Thompson
Capitol
"Of the three things I do—writing, recording, performing—probably recording is my least favorite," says a characteristically self-deprecating Richard Thompson in the press kit to his new album, Action Packed. And dammit, Richard, it shows. Comprising 16 tracks from his six albums with Capitol—released between 1988 and last year, when Thompson left the label of his own volition—as well as a new recording and two outtakes, Action Packed is a decidedly uneven collection. Although it may present Thompson's favorites among his recent compositions, it also offers some of the most egregious missteps in his 30-year recording history. Mitchell Froom produced four of Thompson's Capitol releases, and the resulting recordings are cluttered with synths and other injudiciously chosen lush-pop sounds that are at odds with the guitarist's essential rawness. Nowhere is this more apparent than on the gentle lost-love song "I Misunderstood," in which the elegant guitar figure that opens the song is buried under reverby keyboards and Casio-plastic percussion. The few songs that are spared undue Froomage—"1952 Vincent Black Lightning," "Beeswing," and "Waltzing's for Dreamers"—reinforce Thompson's folky cred but reveal only that one dimension of his work. Of the albums excerpted here, only 1999's Mock Tudor, produced by Tom Rothrock and Rob Schnapf, shows the quietly stubborn artist whose music is rooted in tradition but has rampantly blossomed into something neither folk nor rock. Four Mock Tudor tracks lead up to the fan bait at the end of Action Packed: "Persuasion," originally written for the film Sweet Talker, and the Mock Tudor outtakes "Mr. Rebound" and "Fully Qualified to Be Your Man." The outtakes are as purely Thompson as anything on Mock Tudor: The former is a Celtic/Moroccan-sounding cuckold's plaint, the latter a double-entendre-laden punk-pop romp. But it's "Persuasion" that should make the Capitol suits sorry they let Thompson get away: With spare yet rich acoustic instrumentation and vocal harmonies—Thompson sings most of the backup, with the lead taken by his silken-voiced son Teddy—it's more radio-friendly than anything else in Thompson's iconoclastic back catalog.
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