ThatDamnedPanda
Posts: 6060
Joined: 1/26/2009 Status: offline
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Any one of the dozen Stevie Ray Vaughan shows I saw in the 80s. Especially, though, the first time I saw him, on a cold, snowy November night in around 1981 or 82 at the Union Bar in Minneapolis. Nobody'd really heard of him before, and the weather was horrible, so there couldn't have been more than 40 or 50 people in the place. He didn't care. He played like it was Yankee Stadium. I knew right away what I was seeing, and I never missed another SRV show. Any one of the dozen or so Santana concerts I've seen since about 1972 or 73. Never saw a bad Santana show. Most of the Grateful Dead shows in the 70s, when Jerry was still alive. About half of the 10 or 12 Clapton shows I've seen. When he's on, he's on. When he's not, you just keep checking your watch and wondering what's on TV tonight. Any of the 3 or 4 Johnny Winter shows I've seen. The guy brings an energy I've hardly ever seen from anyone else, with the occasional exception of Santana and Stevie Ray. Most of the Prince shows at First Avenue in Minneapolis, back in the late 70s (I guess) and early 80s. It was never the same show twice, because he was just starting to really figure out how good he was and they were just starting to figure out how to make that sound work. You knew that's what you were seeing on a week to week basis, too, and that made it all the more special. Any of the 25 or 30 Los Lobos shows I've seen. Best live band I've ever seen, bar none. I think the most special was when I caught them in their hometown, at the old Hollywood Bowl, last time I was in LA. Last August, I think. Maybe July. I remember the first time I ever paid 6 bucks - six fucking dollars! - for a concert ticket, back in August of 74. I was furious. Never felt so ripped off in my life. But I justified it on the grounds that, after all, it was a triple bill with Eric Clapton and Carlos Santana, plus some guy named Albert King. I think I got my six bucks worth. Santana played the second set, Clapton played the third, and they all jammed for Clapton's encore. Played together for about 45 minutes, a lot of it an apparently impromptu medley of old 50's rockabilly tunes and 60's "power pop" numbers like "Good Lovin'." As many times as I've seen both of those guys, I don't think I've ever seen either one of them having anywhere near as much fun as they were having playing together that night. That was a once-in-a-lifetime musical moment. A solo acoustic show by Springsteen, at the Northrop Auditorium at the University of Minnesota in the late 90s. I was hypnotized. I knew almost every song he played, but in that setting, each one was like I was hearing it for the first time. He found something in each song I'd never heard before, and it was an incredibly intimate experience. Jonathan Richman, at First Avenue in Minneapolis, about 10 years ago. The whole show sucked so terribly, over half the people left, and I think most of those who stayed only stuck around because we were considering the idea of lynching him at the end of the show. When it was over, and we were all standing there glowering at him and feeling thoroughly cheated, he stepped to the front of the stage, waited until the whole room was silent and watching him, and then began a solo, acapella version of "Satisfied Mind." Every single person in the club was totally silent, and captivated by it. When he was finished, you could have literally heard a pin drop. I could hear people nearby breathing in and out. Then he smiled a little bit, half-winked, and said, "good night." Walked off the stage, and we all filed out, still in complete silence. He's such a peculiar little geek, I really believe he deliberately fucked up the entire show just to weed out the faithless, and set us up for the one and only song of the concert that really meant something to him - the one song he really wanted us to hear. It was a show I'll never forget. Dave Alvin, solo and acoustic, at First Avenue in around 1996. Quite possibly the most completely authentic performer I've ever seen. Every note he sang hurt like a needle in my heart, because I completely believed his pain. Prior to that, I'd only known him from The Blasters, and I never dreamed I was going to see that side of him that night. Keb Mo, Weisner Amphitheater, Minnesota Zoo, July 2000. You just didn't want him to run out of songs. Taj Mahal, Guthrie Theater, Minneapolis, October 1981. You wanted to freeze the moment in time, so you could re-live it again and again. The man fuckin' meant it. Maybe the best one, though, wasn't even a concert. It was a rehearsal. I was walking around Atlanta one day about 15 years ago, doing the tourist thing, and wandered into Martin Luther King's old church. There was a gospel group, the Mighty Clouds of Joy, rehearsing for a gospel show that night or the next day. Can't remember which. Anyway, when i walked in, I felt awkward, as though i was intruding. They stopped singing and stared at me for a moment, and then one of them beamed a big smile and waved. I kind of gestured inquisitively toward a pew, and one of them grinned and nodded. It was fucking incredible. I was all alone in that church, surrounded by the soaring ecstasy of their gospel harmonies. I just sat back in the pew and closed my eyes while it swirled around me, lifted me on high, and transported me someplace I'd never been before and never been since. It was the only time in my life that I felt as though I was actually a part of the music I was hearing, and in that moment I "got" gospel in a way that I never had before. If I could make a list of the 5 or 10 experiences of my life that I'd like to live over again, that would have to be very close to the top.
< Message edited by ThatDamnedPanda -- 3/22/2010 8:27:27 PM >
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Panda, panda, burning bright In the forest of the night What immortal hand or eye Made you all black and white and roly-poly like that?
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