Phil Vassar at The Birchmere

I've never had a bad time at the Birchmere, but tonight was one of the most enjoyable times I've had there. Always at the top of the list is getting together with my cousin, who could pass for my big sister, and her sweet husband. Our company mixed and blended into the audience of others sharing time and space with meaningful company, and somehow the shared experience made us all one. That's the magic of live music.

Add into that alchemy the joy of discovering another new-to-me artist, and my evening was fulfilled. On the bill tonight was singer/songwriter/piano man Phil Vassar and his two back-up musicians (no drummer, though an audience member offered).

Phil Vassar, via philvassar.com/about

Whatever happens in a man's life to make him write about it may be a blessing, including awakening to the simple lesson not to miss your own life. And it makes a great song. Being on tour and away from family cannot be easy, and Virginia native Vassar sprinkled his 105-minute set with gratitude and enthusiasm for being back home. It was a happy man who took the stage tonight, who even rolled the bluesier songs into joyful riffs.

The audience had plenty of fans to cheer and sing along, but as a new fan, I could only cheer. The prompts for "what do you want to hear next" were easily answered, though I suspect some were inside jokes. One of the first requests was "Purple Rain"--and yes, Vassar offered a few lines of the Prince classic with a grin.

From the discography on his Web site, I see the wonderful anthem "American Child" was an album title; others I liked a lot were "Amazing Grace" (not the one you're thinking of), "My Next Thirty Years," "Black and Whites," and "John Wayne," a tribute to what it means to be a man. I think my brother would have loved that one.

Not being much of a music critic, I would have a hard time putting Vassar's music into a particular genre. He's a piano man like Billy Joel, with blues accents and an occasional '80s pop vibe (at one point I was "hearing" the soundtrack to a movie like Big somewhere in there). But Wikipedia labels him a country artist, so there you go. At one point, the self-described ADD Vassar joked that he was going to rap. And country rap is ... crap. 

Bah-dum bum. (See, we did need percussion, if only for the rimshot!)

love, hosaa

grateful for digital souvenirs after the live experience has ended

eta, photos of the live performance courtesy of The Birchmere's Facebook page:

And, thanks to Twitter, this fun convo with the artist:

The Nez at the Birch

I'm a little late posting a recap of Michael Nesmith's performance at The Birchmere. His April 17 concert was the last of his current tour, and it was a sellout, which made it fun to be in a crowd of true fans. But like the time I saw Wicked with busloads of teenage girls who knew every line, I was the outsider, the casually interested audience member in a crowd of Nez-heads.

I guess you have to address the Monkee in the room, because truthfully that's really only how I know of Michael Nesmith. Many of his fans were clearly Monkees fans, and of course I remember the show well. He was the quiet, wry, serious, intelligent Monkee. I don't remember if he was my favorite or not; I might have liked Davy back in the day, because Davy was the cute Brit who once played the Artful Dodger in Oliver!, like my beloved Jack Wild. But I digress.

Links: 

Washington Post review of the performance, by Dave McKenna

Rolling Stone Q&A, posted April 1, 2013

Couple of videos - and pardon the bobbing-eating-drinking-talking silhouette in the foreground. It's all part of the Birchmere experience. *g* 

Also on YouTube:
* First encore, Tonight
* Second encore, Thanks for the Ride

There was a lot of love in the room, and the Nez responded with a great deal of warmth. It was clear that he enjoyed what he was doing. What I loved most were the stories, or rather vignettes, that preceded each number. He takes you to the place where he was in his head when he created the songs, and even though he doesn't have the best voice, he has an artist's vision. It was an embracing and gentle experience. I can see why the fans love him.

I had more to say about the Nez experience as it relates to the Clay Aiken experience, but it would probably require more research and analysis. The phenomenon of having one's big-time show-biz career launched "overnight" by a wildly popular TV show is the obvious similarity. The Nez and Clay both have expressed gratitude for the experience and the lessons. But they both have moved on. They both had record-label frustrations, too. The great Nez story was about being expected to record hits, which led to his titling his next album And the Hits Just Keep On Comin'. Brilliant!

The short story is that the Nez listened to his own voice, worked with musicians he loved, and kept experimenting and growing. It's what artists do, and the audience continues to welcome it.

love, hosaa
cruisin'

Two Singers: Nnenna Freelon and Elliott Yamin

Two singers I catch around town as often as I can just happened to be in the neighborhood (or close enough) in the last couple of weeks: Jazz artist Nnenna Freelon and American Idol alum (season five) Elliott Yamin. They don't have terribly much in common, except I like them both for their unique voices. You don't mistake them for anyone else.

(And you know that's why I like Clay Aiken, too, but while he is working on his surprise for my birthday next month--which I am guessing is going to be his plan to collaborate with David Foster on adapting my screenplay into a Broadway musical--I have to spend this time pursuing my other interesting interests. Pardon my daydream...)

Both Nnenna and Elliott played to less than packed houses at the Strathmore and the Birchmere, respectively. This is unfortunate, but it didn't affect their performances.

Nnenna goes into her own world in her dreamy interpretations, bringing the audience along into the experience. "Skylark" gave me chills, performed with simple bass accompaniment.

One difference between a Nnenna/Strathmore experience and an Elliott/Birchmere one is my level of inhibition in clack-gathering. It's just taboo in a concert hall like Strathmore, and an artist of Nnenna's elegance, well, it would just seem like a violation to try to video her performance. At the Birch, with a guy like Elliott joshing with his E-Train riders in the audience, the pictures and videos are almost expected.

So to give you Nnenna's "Skylark," I borrow from someone else's lack of inhibition. This is from a year ago:

And "God Bless the Child," which made me feel as though I never heard or understood it before:

Now, Elliott, on the other hand, I had no problems mustering courage to video, so these are mine. My only problem was the tall fellow directly in my line of sight. (Situation normal.)

Here he is previewing some new songs, and delivering a heartfelt version of an earlier hit.









Love, hosaa
hearing (really great) voices

Elliott Yamin at the Birchmere

Just another reminder to go experience live music - or dance or drama or comedy. Support the arts! It supports us.

Some friends went to see Coldplay at the Nissan Pavilion last week, so I knew a scaled down show like Elliott's at the Birchmere would leave them feeling cheated. I invited them to come with me to the show last night (May 24), but understood when they declined, still off their Chris Martin high. I don't know. I like scaled down intimate shows. I like being 25 feet from a singer, seeing his eyes, watching him work.

Elliott has more stamina than he did when he first came to the Birchmere two years ago (May 17, 2007). Starting his first tour for his first album, he lasted a strained 50 minutes but put his whole heart into the show. Without enough of his own material, he did some great covers at that time.

This year, two years stronger and with more confidence, he pulled off an energetic and soulful 70 minute set, covering his first and second albums just about equally (the two encores were from the first album, "Train Wreck" and "Movin' On").

Including the first album was a good move, IMO, not because it's stronger material than his latest CD, "Fight For Love," but because the mood varies more. And because the fans in the audience are more familiar with the first CD, they can sing along and get into the show with Elliott. And he encouraged that a lot!

I got to share my table with two sweet PYT's from West Virginia, Amanda and Leslie, who informed me that their plan was to marry Elliott. Both of them. I hope they understood this would require religious conversions among the three of them, but they were so happy - and especially thrilled when I told them that Elliott would probably be out front after the show to sign autographs.

While the vid's are uploading (good view, but a little shakey and off center, and beginnings cut off on some - sorry about that), here are some of my best shots.

Love, hosaa,
Waiting for Clay but loving the Yamin





"Ya-mini"


Cold Heart


I Can't Keep On Loving You (From a Distance):


One Word:


Someday:


and, apropos of the above (heh):

HAHA

A few years ago I decided that, whenever someone insulted me or acted rudely, I'd laugh it off. It was probably the only New Year's resolution I've come close to keeping.

It's useful, because nine times out of ten, the insult or rudeness is unintentional or thoughtless. Why take it personally?

Case in point. Last night I went to the Birchmere to meet my cousin for her husband's birthday celebration. I arrived early so I could save a good table for five (not quite early enough, and it turned out I needed space for seven, so the back of the room turned out fine).

While waiting to get in the doors, I sat at the bar with a glass of pinot grigio and my paperback - The Fall by Camus (yeah, I know - perfect reading for an old music hall. But I'm used to being out of place).

I'm trying to get out of myself a little more and be open to random conversations in public places. Not that I want to be picked up or anything. But a couple sat down at the bar table across from me, so maybe I'd just start a conversation. The guy was about my age, give or take seven or eight years, and the girl was much younger. They were both on their cell phones, but chatting in between texting.

I heard the guy grumble to the girl, "What a loser, can't get a date."

Okay, I knew he was talking about whoever he was communicating with on his phone. Maybe it was somebody who backed out of meeting them there. But he was sitting three feet away, directly across the table, from a middle-aged woman sitting alone in a bar with a glass of white wine and a book - the iconic image of "loser, can't get a date."

I smiled, laughing at myself and at the guy across the table from me, and continued with Camus' narrator on the absurdity of public charm.

The guy and the girl paused in their own conversation for a bit, so I asked the guy if he'd been to hear this singer before, Guy Clark. I wanted to know what kind of music to expect.

The guy was very friendly, an aging old-boy/hippie with a long grey ponytail. The much-younger girl he was with, I finally realized, was his daughter. The fact that he was there without a wife or significant other made him a bit more forgivably attractive. The music, he told me, was country ballads, Texas style, and this Guy Clark was very funny - droll, like Lyle Lovett.

The guy went to get drinks for his daughter and himself, so I chatted with the girl - a nursing student going for her LPN. I told her of my experiences with the health care system over the last few years, with my parents in and out of hospitals. "Nurses rock!" I said. (I admit wondering, fleetingly, if she would like me as a stepmother. Sigh. It was a semi-selfish thought: Who is going to take care of me when it's my turn to be in and out of hospitals?)

When her dad came back, the girl was playing around with the settings on her new camera. She was trying to turn off the automatic flash. She let me look for the setting - I never found it on her camera. I whipped out my own camera to show her the function I was looking for.

I'm very proud of my little camera. It's the one I won at the pre-concert party for Clay Aiken's 2007 Tulsa concert. So I bragged about how I won my camera at a Clay Aiken concert.

The guy laughed. I mean, LAUGHED. Laughed harder than he should have. "You like CLAY AIKEN? Seriously? HAHAHA!!"

I just smiled. (Yes, of course! I LOVE Clay Aiken! How normal of me!)

Maybe that was enough to break the ice - he introduced himself, Rick, and I said my name. The daughter introduced herself too. (Sorry - Amanda? Angela? I am really sorry I didn't get her name too. Too flustered.)

By then my number was about to be called to go into the dining hall. Rick and daughter were only a few numbers behind me. I found my table for my cousins and never saw my new friends again until the intermission between opening act and Guy Clark. We ran into each other in the hallway leading to the restrooms. Rick patted me on the shoulder and smiled broadly. Amanda/Angela(?) was cute as a doll. We all said we were enjoying the show. I went back to my party's table and never saw them again.

Anyway, I had a great time. In spite of being thoroughly (unintentionally) insulted twice. I think it was the right attitude to take, don't you?

love, hosaa,
laughing off loving Clay as much as ever, because it feels good.