PATRICK MCVAY

WRITER

My Musings

This text is currently hidden by a css change. Alow's me to go directly to the category description because it is editable in the front end,
Font size: +

Yo Adrian!

Belew-and-Harrison

I've seen the rock musician Adrian Belew probably five times now in various bands and musical assemblages – with King Crimson, with his Power Trio, and solo at least once if not a couple of times – but until a few weeks ago I always saw him playing his own music.

But Adrian Belew has participated in so many bands over the years that I should have expected him to show up with a friend in tow and do most of the friend's songs, which happened a couple of weeks ago at the HOB* in Boston, when he showed up with a member of the Talking Heads.

You may point out that Jerry Harrison isn't the main Talking Heads songwriter; however all songs on the album Remain in Light are credited to Talking Heads and Brian Eno, so Harrison gets credit for all of them. And since the name of the tour was "Jerry Harrison & Adrian Belew REMAIN IN LIGHT" I feel confident that a court of law would exonerate me from charges of falsely claiming that the band was playing mostly Jerry Harrison songs.

You're probably wondering if this is the part of my music review when I start writing in flowery and verbose language, highlighting nebulous, esoteric aspects of the concert, casting light on little bits of melodic nuance that would have gone over the head of the average concertgoer. Or, maybe the average person wouldn't have noticed the subtleties I focus on, such as contending that the power and elegance of Adrian Belew's singing was brought into sharp relief when juxtaposed to Harrison's croaking style, because the subtleties really weren't there, and I'm reading way, way too deeply into the music. Maybe I'm just using this concert as a way of calling attention to me instead of the band.

That's not my style.

I will tell you in the most straightforward, easy to understand expository prose that Talking Heads music is still great decades later, and that the musicians assembled played faithful renditions of it, with Harrison and Belew and a backing funk band called Cool Cool Cool generating a big, energetic sound that mimicked the Talking Heads stage act at the height of their popularity. Yeah, sure, it would have been great for it to be an actual Talking Heads show with David Byrne singing, but Adrian Belew can still bring it in his 70s, and not only did he collaborate with Talking Heads in the late 1970s and early 1980s, but he can sound a good deal like David Byrne when he wants to.

I can't talk about this night without mentioning the type of mildly irritating fan you might encounter at a general admission rock concert that makes you wish they would go get another beer and get stymied trying to return . Often it's a large man who needs about a six foot radius around himself at all times to enable him to shake and shimmy and dance the night away, while the rest of us are jammed together like a pack of cigarettes. Then he elbows you in the eye socket and turns to you with his hands raised like it's a stickup to indicate that he didn't mean it. But he goes on needing all that floor space the whole night. In this rather different case, I weaved my way onto the floor after the opener had left and stopped behind a man and his son who were best pals, arms slung over each other's shoulders, high fiving, hugging, and so forth. It was kind of sweet! But after the concert started, the tipsy Dad who was sloshing around his second or third tallboy can of beer kept pulling the teen boy close so that their heads touched and I couldn't see the show, even with my big shoes on. I kept eying vacant floor space so that I might slip away from peculiarly amorous father-son act. You're thinking, what's the big deal? Too many fathers and sons don't show love for each other so why complain about these two being best buds? Trust me, it got weirder and weirder as the man got more and more hammered. Plus, like I said, I couldn't see the show.

Eventually, I was able to slide to the left so that I didn't have to keep bobbing and weaving like Joe Frazier to see the musicians between the tilted heads of this overly-close pair. Meanwhile, my buddy Tim abandoned the area headed to the back of the venue floor to get away from them. It wasn't just me. 

I'll probably keep going to Adrian Belew shows until they don't exist any longer, or I don't exist, which, if you were paying attention to my early blog posts of several years ago, may be a long way off, as I expect to live quite a bit past 100. Just need Adrian Belew to do the same.

*(I don't like to expand the acronym because my friend Todd hates the HOB).

Where Have The Tube Men Gone?
The Dirty Den
 

Comments

No comments made yet. Be the first to submit a comment
Already Registered? Login Here
Guest
Tuesday, 28 November 2023

 

 

J'Biden Era Haikuage

 

People's Arms. That's right!

200 million shots

In 100 days

 

We are good people

But we still have far to go

Repair. Restore. Heal.

 

There's nothing new here

The Affordable Care Act

We're restoring it 

 

America's Day

Democracy is fragile

The world is watching 

 

Strategy is based

On Science, not politics

Truth, not denial

 

 

Subscribe To The Blog

Produce This Audio Play!

Ever wanted to produce a radio play?  Think you have the mettle?  Read on!

Tag Cloud

coronavirus TV Martinis Higher Education Eating and Drinking The Old Days Imaginings Scotch and Sirloin Cars Knots COVID Brain Surgery Guns and Ammo First World Problems Pats high winds Ice Dancing curling shoes plan mid-winter vacations Butterfingers Roommates I've Had New England People I know Belgian Ales Communication Channels gathering throngs Reese's Peanut Butter Cups Cornhole star Politics As Usual China Wind Earth Soup Royal Stuff Bill Monroe COVID-19 Them Kids Bicycles 1980s Ukraine Spice Girls Audubon Bar Bunker Art Quebect US Senate NPR Vaccines The Past Car Dealerships War and Peace Bands I haven't seen Golf My grandparents Texting Hawaii Canada baseball Work Soccer Trump Eclipse My sisters Stairs Tom Waits Hache Verde Zoom Soviet Union nukes Hand Planes Accounting the sea Music Mom and Dad Weather Rabbit Hole Europe Motorists Things I've done My Parents Skating Theater Mass General Hospital Halloween town square soapbox rantings Boston tambourrine Joan Jett Allergies Good Reads Marketing Gimmicks Red Sox Bikes Hot Air Balloon Folk Music Putin afterlife Religion the future Big Shoes Barber Shops Head injuries Godfather Canadiana Diseases Grass Skiing seasons Ticketmaster Dad advice punk music NFL cornhole The Future midwinter vacations Elvis Presley Rock Bands Fiction Candy Football Plastic vacation Email Skiing Advertising Biden Reveillon Cats Sports Syracuse Drumming Audio Yeast Bands I've seen Bands I've Seen Chowder Vaughn Me Snow Guns Liz Phair Peacekeeping Stories I should write My Estate Food weather BB King Christmas Soul Coughing When I die Mike Doughty Mustard Sugarbush technology Beer Bob Dylan Existential Crisis The future Spoon the band acerbic high school principal Bodysurfing Climate Change Coyotes Hurricanes Ketchup