Clinging to the Woodstock vibe

Getting the elusive Woodstock vibe is easy ... holding on to it, not so much.

Being in Bethel Woods is amazing. And then you walk into the museum gift shop, which is strewn with more commercialism than you can are able to view amidst the packed crowd. And the merchandise you can actually see doesn't say "Woodstock," probably because that's a trademarked name. So the reason the place exists is the reason they can't use the name?

But then you see the line for entrance with thousands of eager (and sweaty) people on it. And an old hippie holds a sign that "Need a free ticket for tonight" ... and he gets one minutes later!

We headed to Woodstock ourselves without tickets for the sold-out show, but with expectations of meeting someone who had two extra lawn seats early in the afternoon. While we could have gotten the tickets the box office released that day at cost, we stayed true to the vibe and waited on our supplier (much delayed by ... traffic, of course!)

Mark's backup plan to our woes was to use the old hippie Paul's sign to get tickets of our own. He even procured the sign to that end. And when our source showed up, we passed the sign on to another, who got a ticket -- no joke -- five seconds later. Paul added "Pay it forward ... it worked for me!" to the bottom of the sign and we left it outside in hopes that it would be used by others as we finally entered the gates.

The modern-day facility neighbors the original Max Yasgur farm that played host to the original Woodstock (I said it! I said it! I'm not paying royalties!!), and we found out that the foundation plans for that plot to remain untouched forever.

The Woodstock vibe was flowing through the people we met who told us stories of being at the original show -- one guy spent two days working his way to the front of the stage until he found himself there for Joe Cocker's set -- and NOT being at the show -- one poor lady went without tickets and was turned away (only to find out a day later, when access was impossible, that it had become a free show). Her friend also had been at Woodstock (*TM) and she had been left by her then-boyfriend (who also planned to be there for the 40th) when they lost track of each other amidst the hundreds of thousands.

Oh, fun note. Mark endured some teasing for wearing his New Jersey Devils shirt to the event. Although I surmised that there wouldn't be any other such apparel in view, Frank Marshall stopped us to appreciate the subject, and to show off his own team spirit at the same time.

We quickly staked out a spot on flat rocks in the shade, but quickly surmised we wouldn't last eight-plus hours on them since they were perilously sloped to the ground. We moved to flat -- and sweltering -- ground at the back center of the lawn and promptly fell asleep amidst the growing lawn full of families and wanna-be hippies who didn't attend the actual Woodstock as tuning continued for an hour or so on the stage.

It was a nice (but did I mention hot!) way to pass the day. And when the show got underway that kind of now-you-feel-it, now-you-don't Woodstock vibe floated in the air. I guess it sort of hurt the premise that all the bands had members no longers with them, whether by nature or other design. But everyone sounded really good, no off-key or out-of-tune embarrassments across the board. Rather than play-by-play the sets, I'll just hand out some props and some dubious honors for the evening.

Most faithful rendition:
15-year-old Conrad Oberg's take on Jimi Hendrix's seminal "Star-Spangled Banner" opened the show.

Least faithful rendition:
Big Brother's "Me and Bobby McGee." Uh, this was a Janis solo song, guys. That means after she left y'all.

Worst awareness of surroundings:
Despite a pretty big contingent of pint-sized fans (all of whom seemed to be able to get down), Country Joe proceeded with a "Gimme an F ... Gimme a U ... Gimme a C ... Gimme a K... what's it spell?!" chant rather early in the afternoon.

Best "fake" band member:
Cathy Richardson's amazing take on Grace Slick for Jefferson Starship nee Airplane (see right).

Worst "fake" band member:
Sophia Ramos of Big Brother. They brought on an Oriental guest vocalist for the first two songs, and while she had a bit of trouble with enunciation, the songs still sounded right. Ramos, fine in the straight-forward moments, really irked when she tried for Janis vocal stretches.

Best appropriation of someone else's idea:
Me! "Gimme a F ... Gimme a U ... Gimme a C ... Gimme an H ... Gimme an S ... what's it spell? FUCHS! FUCHS! FUCHS!" The only person I know of who could have done Janis justice.

Best use of a single riff:
Canned Heat. Canned riff. Hey, it gets people boogeying. But let's be honest. They keep playing the same ol' song with different words in front of them. Even Ten Years After felt obliged to use it once in their set.

Best anachronism:
Leslie West of Mountain called for the lighting technician to follow him electronically as he played the five notes of the "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" theme.

Best storyteller:
West again! Before diving into an energetic "Crossroads," West admitted he would be selling insurance if it wasn't for Eric Clapton. He recalled speaking to his brother about why the late Felix Pappalardi (Mountain's bassist and Cream's producer) couldn't get Mountain to sound like Cream. "Because you suck," brother said. West put the dig aside, until he went to see Cream in concert for himself. "We do suck!" West then proclaimed. It made him bear down and practice even harder.

Best surprise:
West trifecta!! It was rather late in the evening when West asked for the crowd's indulgence, bringing out his fiance Jenni Maurer and getting hitched on the stage ... by none other than the night's closer, Levon Helm. (Oh by the way, this is only biggest surprise if we fail to include my mom telling me via cell phone that day for the first time that when the original Woodstock took place, we were vacationing mere miles away.)

Best performance:
It was way late and the soothing sounds might not be traditional headliner fare, but The Levon Helm Band stood hand and shoulders above a pretty impressive rest of the field. Although Levon (who has battled throat cancer) was on "vocal rest," he centered a striking collection of musicians with his affinity for and talent on the skins.

Found at The Fillmore

It's difficult to get me out and aboot on Fridays after a long week of Minor League baseballing. But the surest way to do it is to present a concert by someone that I've wanted to see for over a decade and never had the chance to.

This week's entry was Fastball. As an aficionado of the perfectly crafted pop song (be it Rick Springfield or Fleetwood Mac or Squeeze), Fastball fires right down the middle with some heat. They're great at depicting the human condition amidst a catchy riff, the name of the pop game.

My last solo outing was to see The Arc Angels, who 1. I had wanted to see for over a decade and 2. were also playing at The Fillmore. It's apparently becoming my catchup ground. I expect to hear an announcement for Pearl Jam's Stone Gossard's side project Brad or the Ben Folds Five reunion any day now.

Fastball was actually the middle act on this night, between Aimee Allen (whose got a nice Gwen Stefani quality to her voice and stage presence) and Sugar Ray (if you don't have anything nice to say... save your scorn for later in the blog).

Actually the real opening act was on the line outside the theater, when a poor woman projectile heaved not once, but twice. Luckily I wasn't one who wound up with residue on my feet, that particular thrill was saved for people on the line ahead of her and I was right behind. However, standing amidst that for 20 or so more minutes after the spew, I was quite ready to go myself. It was close but we avoided a recreation of the total barfarama scene in "Stand by Me."

I made a beeline to the merch table, and they had the perfect shirt for me -- a peace sign with stars behind it. (The two-fingered salute as opposed to the peace symbol.) Snatched one of those and quickly donned it. With the first five or six rows already filled in in the hall, I went upstairs and got a close spot on the railing that I didn't move from for a couple hours.

Aimee Allen was solid, with her bassist (twice her size) getting the crowds' arms waving or clapping whenever it was called for. I couldn't help thinking that if Aimee got the airtime Gwen Stefani did, she'd be slaying the audience. And that was backed up when she covered Sublime's "Santeria" and the crowd went wild.

And then time for the main event ... for me. I got excited just watching Tony Scalzo set up his keyboards and guitar. It was a rush when they all came out on the stage and launched into the title track to "Little White Lies."

Got one of my favorites, "Fire Escape," very early. I love the way the voices of Tony and Miles Zuniga mix and mingle -- just like Doyle Bramhall II and Charlie Sexton a few months before. I'm always blown away by Joey Shuffield's drumming too, he hits the hell out of the skins but with perfect symmetry.

Tony introed another of my faves, "You're an Ocean," by saying it's a great song and I couldn't agree more. Song shoulda been mammoth, I could listen to that puppy 20 times in a row without getting tired of it.



The new material (i.e., "Mono to Stereo") sounded really strong and vital. I fear I'm mixing up which songs I heard and which I didn't because I was listening to the album all day on the iPod. I hope the band wasn't disappointed that they weren't getting the riotous response that many seemed to be saving for Unsweetened Ray, but it really was a thrill for me and I was into every minute.

The crowd went nutso when it came to "Out of My Head" and the band's biggest hit ... to date! ... "The Way," even singing out a verse loud and strong. We got "Always and Never" (unless I'm doing revisionist history again) and they were gone, sob.

Ready to forsake Sugar-free Ray, I got onto a small line queueing up at the Fastball merch table. I got to meet a bunch of diehards -- Barrie from the Village's WRXP, Jill, Susan, Mickey and (because there is always ONE person's name that I forget when I meet a group) a guy I'll refer to as Guy-who-loves-Glenn Tilbrook-almost-as-much-as-Mark.

We teased Guy-who-loves-Glenn for repeatedly doffing his shirt to try on a new one from the merch table. Susan and I joked about which one of us had bought the better shirt (when we both had bought the same one). Railed about Fastball playing before Saccharine Ray. Found out that the tour got set up because Tony used to play with Overly Sweetened Ray frontman Mark McGrath. Decided to limit my remarks about Sour Ray in front of the band.

That was if the band ever came down to the table. They didn't, which created hardship for the hard-working and very tall merch table worker... uh, Joe? (OK, now I'm down two names.) He texted backstage twice to no avail. Barrie decided to look around for the guys, he reminded me of a dedicated doggie that would not quit until he got his bone, and I asked Mickey whether Barrie would actually drag them back if he found success.

That was answered quickly enough when Barrie texted Mickey that the guys were upstairs, so we went up to say hi. I got to say hi to Miles. Holding the new CD I had purchased, I talked about how great I think it is while fretting that he would wonder how I could know about it in any depth since I was holding it in my hand. But I've actually had it for months off iTunes. He was very gracious and talked for a couple minutes before excusing himself.

By that time, Tony had also appeared in the area and I took note of his red sneakers (I was also wearing my laceless red Converses). After Barrie talked with him and Tony and Mickey shook hands, I introduced myself and -- prepare for my worst faux pas since writing on Nick Johnson with a Sharpie -- bumped his glasses as I tried to say something sensical. (In my defense, Sweet-and-very-Low Ray was playing at the time and the only way to be heard was to invade the man's space.)

He didn't even make mention of it, and we bonded over the red sneakers, doing a little simultaneous shuffle in our sneaks. I told him as well that I loved the CD and would wait at the table for autographs. He seemed concerned about people waiting downstairs, but another person intervened before he could work his way to the stairs.

With another show in Jersey next month (embarrassment of riches after a long drought!), I decided to start making the trek home. And after walking out the door, I met the third member of the triumvirate, Joey. Babbled a little about how much I love his drumming, he asked me if I was a drummer, I said "only an air drummer" and he said, "well that's drumming." Again, I dragged out my bon mot about how great the CD is, and again I felt I could almost see in his eyes the disbelief. Told him I would see him next month and was on my way with a spring in my step and a rewrite of one of Artificial Sweetener Ray's tunes.

"I just wanna flyyyyy ... I don't wanna hear your sucky music ... I don't wanna hear lame tunes ... I ... just ... want ... to ... flyyyyyyyyyy."