I don’t usually like picking on kids because I feel like I’m being that schoolyard bully who picked on those other kids who were smaller. However, there comes a time every now and then when not only can I not resist, but it just needs to be done.
Last week, I had the great pleasure of attending the Roger Daltrey and Eric Clapton show at the New Orleans Arena. The two of them were both worthy of being headliners. Clapton because, well, he was the headliner and this is his tour. Daltrey because he totally owned that stage.
Now, to comply with full disclosure, I have to admit that had Daltrey not been opening, chances are I would have passed this show up like I’ve done the other times Clapton has been to town. I love Roger Daltrey and The Who with a love that can only be overshadowed by my love for The Beatles. I love Eric Clapton too, but it was never a love that could justify (in my mind) spending over $50 for a concert ticket.
As the countdown began, I started checking the daily reviews of the shows that had happened the night before (because I’m one of those people who actually do that kind of thing). They all had the same result: Eric Clapton sounded fantastic but was not a showman and Roger Daltrey was engaging and could still rock. After witnessing it for myself, I can say that I am in 100% agreement with every single one of those reviews.
I never planned on posting a blog post with my own review of the show because I’ve talked endlessly about it to everyone. I figured I had let out all of the excitement that I had pent up inside and there was no reason to keep hounding on it. That was, until this morning, when a friend of mine sent me a link to an article in the LSU student newspaper “The Reveille” about the show.
This kid – and I’m calling him a kid because I’m assuming that he’s got to be about 10 years younger than me – needs to learn a lot more about music if his aspiration is to be a music journalist. Even if it’s not, he needs to learn a lot more if he wants to critique concerts ever again.
The headline is simple enough: “Clapton, Daltrey show ups and downs of old rockers.” Fair, justified and should have followed with a good article. It was going well until I got to the seventh line:
“The arena was full of geriatric rock fans who had undoubtably seen Slowhand in his prime.”
“Geriatric rock fans.” I don’t think we were at the same show. See, the show I was at didn’t have people carrying their portable oxygen tanks, colostomy bags or getting around with the aid of walkers, canes or wheelchairs. I was surrounded by a vibrant group of late 40 – early 60-year-olds who loved the fact that a couple 30-something “girls” (as they so affectionately called us) were there to join them in experiencing the sounds of two men they grew up idolizing. I didn’t hear stories about growing up during World War II or how their latest doctor’s appointment went. I heard stories that sound like the stories my parents tell.
The man sitting in front of me told me about how when he was growing up, he wanted to be the next Eric Clapton, so he saved up all of his money from allowances and odd jobs so he could buy a Fender, only to realize when he got it home that he had absolutely no idea what he was doing with it.
The man sitting behind me, all of about mid-to-late 50s told me about how his girlfriend in the 70s wanted him to grow his hair like Roger Daltrey because she thought he was the “most gorgeous thing in the world.” “So what’d you do?” I asked. He smiled and said, “Well…” as he pointed to the lady sitting next to him, “I never could get my hair quite as curly, so instead of chancing losing her, I married her.”
Hardly the typical “geriatric” stories we all know and love.
But I digress. Continuing on with the article, and the very next line that made my eye twitch:
“Most were well dressed but still braved the Arena’s $9 beers and plastic cups of wine in rock ‘n’ roll spirit.”
Now, maybe I’m out of the loop here, but what does concert-attendee attire have to do with the show? What does the price of beer (which, by the way, a large Stella cost $7 at the WOW Wingery stand) have to do with how well two men performed that night? No one wants to read about beer and clothes unless they’re singing to you. And if they are singing to you, then you need to stop drinking so much of that beer or smoking whatever drugs you’re on.
Moving on to the crux of my rant (forgive me, please, but my music snob side is about to rear its ugly head.):
On Clapton: “The audience was never kept waiting through petty monologue, and simple lighting and a minimalist setup kept the focus on the root of the performance: the talent of one of rock ‘n’ roll’s immortals…”Each classic was peppered with elongated periods of the kind of playing expected after more than 40 years of touring.”
Yes. Clapton is indeed a rock god, but I don’t know. See, when I pay a good bit for a concert, I don’t want the performer that I paid to see stand up on the stage and look bored. I don’t want the performer to just go through the motions of doing the show. That’s what you got with Eric Clapton. Fantastic music performed by a legend on the stage. But I could have stayed home and listened to a CD for what I got out of it.
When I pay a good bit for a concert, I want the performer to engage a little bit, especially if they’re a legend and undoubtedly have many stories to tell. I want that “petty monologue.” I like to hear a little backstory to a song or two, some witty banter (if the performer has a sense of humor). A smile, a wave, a laugh – anything more than a sporadic “thank you” is nice. That’s what you got with Roger Daltrey.
On Daltrey: “Daltrey’s warm-up performance fundamentally lacked the spirit of his unforgivingly youth-advocating band The Who… Backed by a seemingly nameless band meant to replace three of rock ‘n’ roll’s greatest musicians, Daltrey was left alone with the sound of his own voice, too rough with cigarettes.”
I have nothing to complain about when it comes to his review of Clapton, because that is exactly how it was. He was up on stage, he didn’t speak, he played his guitar just as amazing as he always has. His voice wasn’t like it used to be, but it was still Clapton you saw. My problem is the way he reviewed Daltrey, making him seem like he had no passion, no gusto, which was completely false.
He performance did not “[lack] the spirit” of his early days with The Who, and anyone who was there can tell you that. He was happy to be there, he told stories, joked around, and acknowledged the audience for his entire 50-minute set – not with a random “thank you” here and there. That “seemingly nameless” band included Simon Townshend, brother of Pete, who wasn’t there to replace him, but was there touring with Daltrey like he has for a while now. Roger Daltrey was not touring as The Who, but as a solo artist, so he’s not going to have the current lineup of his band. He wasn’t looking to replace Keith Moon and John Entwhistle either.
Daltrey is doing these shows because he still wants to perform as often as he can because he loves doing it. Was Daltrey’s voice rough? Yes. But this happens to all rock singers, be it within a 40-year time frame or, sometimes, within a 10- year time frame. Did Daltrey still sound good? Definitely.
The man can still wail. He can still sing “The Real Me” with the passion you hear on “Quadrophenia.” “Young Man Blues” still gave me the chills like I get when I hear it on the “Live From Leeds” album. He lit the arena on fire with his closer, “Baba O’Reilly,” which I can only venture to guess that the reason this kid didn’t mention it in his article is because he thinks it’s called “Teenage Wasteland.” After he left the stage, the sentiment of everyone around me was the same: Roger Daltrey alone was worth the price of admission.
“The audience was lucky enough to hear such classics as ‘Who Are You,’ ‘I Can See for Miles’ and ‘Behind Blue Eyes’ which, as Daltrey was kind enough to remind everyone, is not a Limp Bizkit cover.”
Humor is also lost on this guy. Before Daltrey sang “Behind Blue Eyes,” he jokingly stated, “And no, this is not a Limp Bizkit song for all of you youngsters,” before he went on to state that the song is his favorite and “very personal.” See? He engaged – he had a dialogue going. Something Clapton just didn’t do. I assume this guy also failed to see the humor when, having to try twice to start playing a song on his guitar, Daltrey joked that it was odd that he was having trouble playing because his hand was the only part of his body that got any kind of exercise – pausing for a second then saying, “From playing the guitar!” (Juvenille, perverted humor, yet funny.)
I can’t really fault the guy for not liking Roger Daltrey’s performance. It’s blatantly obvious that all he knows about The Who is via the various “C.S.I.” shows’ opening credits and from watching the video of their “explosive” TV performance of “My Generation.” You know the one I’m talking about.
“The man floppily spiraling his microphone around his head hardly looked like the Roger from Oz who destroyed his set and instruments on a live broadcast of the ‘Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour’ in 1967 and changed how Americans looked at music forever.”
He’s right. Roger Daltrey didn’t look like “Roger from Oz.” He looked like the 66-year-old version of that guy. He looked like the guy we all want to emulate – the guy that is inspiring everyone to make sure they’re still rockin’ when they’re that age.
