No, you won't shut us down

Sometime in the course of Park's attempt to get to the Lindsey Buckingham show at Town Hall in New York City, my sister mused about artists finding out what people went through to be at a show. In this case, they might never know why there were empty seats at a show that had been eagerly awaited since it was announced. Anyway, here's my tale.

Like a good mother's daughter, we dutifully left four hours before the show so we could meet up with another friend -- Jenna, who I met on the Stevie Nicks signing line a couple years back. And thanks to failed signals (in Newark) and a disabled train (in the tunnel just before Penn Station) that lengthened the one-hour trip, we didn't even see her before the show.

We spent a couple hours cooling our heels on the train because of all the "Trouble." We were about to "Go Insane," because they were trying to "Shut Us Down." They'd "Gone Too Far" and it felt like we were going to be there "In Our Own Time" and not Lindsey's. High "Treason," if you ask me. (OK, I'll stop now.)

As fortune would have it, a couple from Toronto had gotten on from Rahway and they were going to the show too. They were doing an ultimate road trip -- nine shows -- two of which they had seen so far. According to Bree, there was always something weird that happened en route to a show (so obviously this whole mess was HER fault), but she had not missed even the start of one yet.

In fact, the freelance filmmaker and traveling companion Rob have been making a tour diary to document the stories that others found unbelievable. Mark and I got to be part of this particular one. After one hour, everyone was still upbeat. Two hours, maybe the worry started to creep in a little. A half hour later and the unrealistic plans started to be hatched (Should we switch to the PATH? Should we try and get a cab?)



So with about 20 minutes before the show was set to start, we finally got sprung and made the quick trek over to Town Hall where ... the lights hadn't even gone down yet. We made it!

And although we rationalized on the walk over that we would survive if we missed the first few numbers, I'm sure glad we didn't. The first five were amazing acoustic performances just belted out one after the other by Lindsey. "Shut Us Down," "Go Insane," "Trouble," "Never Going Back Again" and "Big Love." One seemingly more powerful than the next.

Then we got the band, with the ever-affable and versatile Brett Tuggle (Brett Giggle, if you ever try to text his name to someone that comes up as the default even if you pick Tuggle), lean guitarist Neale Heywood and expressive drummer Walfredo Reyes. They delivered a lovely version of "Under the Skin," this song really stuck with me and was still resonating after the show ended as well as the very soothing "All My Sorrows."



Now thanks to Ticketbastard and its merchant, I didn't get the new CD (which was preordered when I bought the tickets for the show) until the day before the concert. And so I didn't get to get too comfortable with the new material, but Lindsey plucked some of the more choice titles from the effort for the show, including "In Our Own Time," "Illumination," "Stars Are Crazy" and "End of Time." My current favorite track "That's the Way Love Goes" sounded particularly strong.

My only sticking point is Lindsey's profession that the new material is the best work he's ever done and a large leap forward. I don't doubt him for believing it to be true -- he's a renowned perfectionist and there's a lot of fine guitar work in the songs. There's just got to be a better way to voice that sentiment without it coming at the expense of his other material, not just with the Mac but his other solo albums as well. There's a fire in many of those songs that has attracted the audience who came to Town Hall to see him. Many of whom, I'm sorry to say and which I would never do personally, took a lot of breaks during the new stuff.

But for me and Mark, the show seemed to go by super-fast and Lindsey was into "Second Hand News" and "Tusk" before we knew it. Mark kept saying "Already?" And special note for "I'm So Afraid," because seeing this live is Lindsey wielding a vacuum instead of a Turner guitar, he just turns it toward the audience and sucks everyone right in. It's a song of amazing power in concert and something you can't even get from the best recorded copy of the show.



Another "Already?" from Mark as the opening notes of "Go Your Own Way" were sounded. And then we went our own way ... all the way down the aisle to the stage where I stood (with Bree) as Lindsey's feet for the final three songs ("Turn It On," "Treason" and "Seeds We Sow.") Got eye contact too and kind of a "Am I supposed to know her?" look from Lindsey and a great thumbs-up from Brett.

So amazing to be standing at his feet -- and reminiscent of when Park did that for a whole Mac show at the Izod Center -- and to watch where he was looking and the way he plays the guitar. From Row P, it's all so intense and he just gives every song, every word, every note everything he has. Standing at his feet, completely exhausting -- in the best way possible.

After the show (and after finally meeting up with Jenna), I drew the comparison to the way the late great Stevie Ray Vaughan worked. An analogy Mark quickly took to. He later offered a description of Lindsey's writing style as drawing you in with the hook and then smashing you in the face with a brick with the lyrics. And it's both of these powers that seemingly will always bring us back until ... the "End of Time."

Soul Stew renaissance

I'm gonna tell you right now that I can't do it. In words, I can't explain what it was like to be at the Tedeschi Trucks Band show at the Beacon Theater on Sept. 10, 2011.
Because if I say that Susan Tedeschi might just be the best singer I've ever heard and if I tell you that there's seemingly no way that Derek Trucks can get better when he was already on the top of his game and atop the guitar world, it's gonna sound hollow and false.
But that's the way it was.
And I don't use those words lightly, I've seen a lot of great shows -- Susan and Derek's, separately and together, among them. A couple years ago, spent a fabulous weekend in New England catching two shows in their first incarnation as "Soul Stew Revival." (Which reminds me that the seemingly only flaw in their armor is a boring band name, the Soul Stew moniker was very, well, hearty.)
And the Soul Stew shows were amazing. A lot of fun and great, seamless music. But somehow they've found a whole different level.



Susan has always been off the beaten path, something I tend to take to across the board when it comes to declaring favorites. Kinda like early Bonnie Raitt, with the unfathomable ability to be spectacular on two fronts, singing and playing the guitar. I've seen her sing counterparts off the stage, but I never had tears welling in my eyes as many times as she made that happen at the Beacon.
And her guitar playing was just incendiary, her solos were just as powerful. You have to see this petite woman with the small speaking voice belting out the tunes like a rock 'n' roll torch singer and using her high heels to pump the wah-wah pedal to believe it.
As I mentioned earlier, I've seen Derek quite a few times in different bands. And I don't know why, but during those shows, I never really thought back to the first time, when he was a 14-year-old novelty act. A kid who could wail on a slide guitar practically bigger than he was. And everyone was so knocked out because he sounded like the guitar gods we'd all love to be able to emulate.
Well, he's one of them now. And right now, he feels like the best of them. In order to ascend to that plane, you have to be reverential about the music that inspired you, but somehow make it your own. And that's something I haven't really found to be true about the guitarists of his generation. In the truest mold of a blues musician, he's taken what he needs from what went before and created something that sounds like Derek Trucks. Without seeing him, you'd know in a heartbeat it was him.



But that's short-selling the equation, because Tedeschi Trucks Band is not just about the blues. It's about music across the board and all kinds of sounds -- soul and country and funk and rock 'n' roll.
And it's not just about Susan and Derek either, because they've put together a really great group of musicians who can spin on a dime. Lots of familiar names in the mix too -- the Burbridge brothers (dynamic Kofi on keyboards -- and note from Mark, sigh, flute -- and Oteil burning up the bass), Mike Mattison stepping to the side to do killer backup vocals with Mark Rivers, drummers Tyler Greenwell AND J.J. Johnson really driving the action in perfect syncopation by beating the snot out of their skins and the brassy trio of Kebbi Williams (sax), Maurice Brown (trumpet) and Saunders Sermons (trombone) in perfect co-existence.
So they blazed their way through a set that included "Don't Let Me Slide" (this has a separate life in one of the other six obsessive-compulsive tracks that run through my brain, so I was glad to put that aside quickly), the life-affirming "Space Captain" as part of the perfect mix of songs from the new album (and yes, they did release it on vinyl and I have it in that format) "Revelator" and covers they've claimed as their own.



"Until You Remember," "Midnight in Harlem," "Come See About Me" and "Learn How to Love" are all examples of how to take what you record and then take it somewhere else entirely when you get on stage. All very distinctive and atmospheric and just an example of what music can be at its very heart.
The covers also span a wide array of style and moods. "Anyday" is a Derek and the Dominos classic that Derek and Susan have been doing together for years that doesn't even feel like it belongs to Eric Clapton anymore. Stevie Wonder's "Uptight (Everything's Alright)" is another example of a song everyone knows and loves that got a completely fresh take and gave the whole band a chance to show off their musicality and showmanship.
So many people know Ray Charles' "The Night Time (Is the Right Time)" from a very entertaining episode of "The Cosby Show," in which the family lip-synchs to the record to celebrate an anniversary. Well no lip-synching on our front, and the vocalists really dazzled on their respective turns. (Video here is from their previous show, but I think it still makes the point.)
Mark called Tedeschi Trucks Band a modern-day Sly and the Family Stone, and that's a spot-on representation. If we needed further evidence of that, they barreled through a very engaging "Sing a Simple Song/Higher."



And since the Beacon is the de facto home of the Allman Brothers, Derek's most basic roots couldn't be and weren't left out. He delivered very tasty solos during "Coming Home" and "Anyday" so reminiscent of that sound that you recognize it immediately as being Allmanesque, but it reiterated how much he's grown since he joined forces with that group of relatives and friends.
So there's been a lot of praise dropped here, but I consider this last part to be of a pretty high caliber. In the middle of the worst time of year for me, it is far too easy for me to be "turned off" by something, even something I love. And I had some fear of that when we were walking up to the Beacon -- which reminds me of a totally unrelated story about how we were stopped because they were filming a Jeff Buckley movie ... the bad one. Anyway, it has happened before that I've gotten irritated and generally disinterested in something that I have great affinity for because of the stress quotient.
Not this time, baby. Exactly what my soul needed. Hey, I found the right words.

Forget Victoria, what's Paige's secret?

Can't begin to imagine the number of miles that have been logged in the name of Rick Springfield. Let's see... Massapequa Park to Westbury Music Fair (twice, 'cause you have to count Mom going there and standing on line for four hours to get tickets as well as the actual show). Lake Worth to Orlando... Lake Worth to Hollywood... Stuart to North Lauderdale... Newark to Long Island ... not to mention shorter excursions like Jersey City/Newark to New York City.

But now, he's come to see me. Well, as close as we can get television's Dr. Noah Drake to pay a house call -- right down the block.

The day started off with a book signing at Barnes & Noble ... right down the other block. Since I got my copy signed last year, I had something very particular in mind. I wanted Rick to sign his autobiography, but for my longtime idol and inspiration Sharon Wyatt, best known as the irrepressible Tiffany Hill Donely on "General Hospital."

Sharon was diagnosed earlier this year with osteonecrosis. They removed part of her jaw and replaced it with a titanium plate. She will undergo another operation to replace that with part of her hip and the path to recover is long and arduous. So, with the help of my best YouTube buddy Steph (sappy) we've been sending her care packages every month to let her know we're thinking about her.

The brainstorm for this month's package was to get the book personalized for Sharon. Now it sounded great in theory several weeks ago, but as the day approached, I'll admit I started to worry about it a little. If you've ever been to a book signing, you know how fast everything moves. They're trying to get you in and out as quickly as possible. Which is totally understandable with so many people waiting, but not such a good thing when you have a tale to tell.

So it was a big secret -- only a handful of people knew about the plan, because I wasn't I sure I could pull it off to my satisfaction. So thanks to the few who did know for not spilling the beans and especially for supporting the concept.

So you wind up on a line that snakes up and down rows through the store. Mark was busy reading every book he could get his hands on. I concentrated on more lofty pursuits, like turning all the masking tape arrows so it looked like the line was supposed to be going in the opposite direction. What a rebel! It couldn't have made the process more of a mess than it was, believe me.

When it's finally my turn, I have my little spiel planned. I also have a Post-It Note that says "Sharon Wyatt" on the top of my book because they don't want to waste any time with the telling and/or spelling of names.

Spiel: Ask Rick if he heard what Sharon's been going through. (No, he didn't know.) Tell him. (I do ... and that's exactly when we're interrupted by the lady who had been before us, who, despite several warnings that he would only be signing BOOKS at his BOOK SIGNING, took that moment -- mine -- to thrust her CD at him to sign. Which, being a gentleman, he did, while he was reacting with sadness about Sharon's situation.) Ask him to write something special just for her. (He does -- "I miss u" with a heart, as you can see to the right.)

This all happens so quickly. I'd say about 30 seconds into it, it's time for our picture! (I can't really give you anything here, I don't remember it, I was so happy at getting my mission accomplished that it's totally not in my memory banks. But it's a nice pic and I certainly look more alive than when I met him when I was really really sick last October. Mark has a memory that I'll share, though. "He WAS smiling, this is just when the button pressed.")

So it's already been a pretty long day when we get to the State Theater. Can't beat parking five minutes after you've left the house, though. The Squirts, comprised of three members of Rick's backup band were the opening act, and they were very enjoyable with catchy lyrics and good musicianship. They've definitely picked up a trick or three from the boss.

Said boss professed to be exhausted a couple times during the night, but he seemed to tap into some energy reserves, because he was the appealing showman we lie in wait for. If he didn't tell us, we wouldn't have known he was winded by judging the dynamic way he delivered everything from the old chestnuts such as "Affair of the Heart," "Love Is Alright Tonight" and, of course, seminal hit "Jessie's Girl" to the new classics "What's Victoria's Secret?" and "Venus in Overdrive."



"It'salwayssomething" has become a staple for early in the set, and I appreciate it because it seems to be a phrase I repeat on a nightly basis at work. Mark says my loudest scream of the night came for "Jet," a Paul McCartney (& Wings) cover which I love but hadn't seen live yet. Great surprise, we thought that one had been retired.

"I'll Miss That Someday" was downright great. It sounded better than I've ever heard it before. It has special meaning for me now, because I used it as my 1,000th post in my YouTube tribute to Sharon, her "GH" co-star John Reilly and all the wonderful people I've met as a result and so I was sort of seeing in my head while he was performing the song. Got all verkemplt.

Would Rick speak about his DUI arrest or would he sweep it under the proverbial carpet? Well, his only planned reference to it was the first couple of lines to Joe Walsh's "Life's Been Good to Me" -- "My Maserati drives 185, I lost my license now I don't drive."

He was in a bit of a "restless" mood, his word not mine, so there were lots of off-the-cuff riffs and diversions in the set. When a fan gave him an Elvis figurine, he broke into a rollicking (and ironic) version of "Jailhouse Rock." He then asked for a Beatles figurine afterward. It seems like Rick's been watching "Glee," because he mashed up his own "I Get Excited" with The Animals' "House of the Rising Sun." And we got Jimi Hendrix's "Red House," which I love and Mark can't stand.

His guitar technician took it on the chin a couple times as one of Rick's axes after another hit the stage floor. It wasn't bothering one of them in the slightest. I got to the point where I was cringing as he threw them so I could avoid seeing the guitar carnage.



Six kids, ages 9 to 5, came on stage to sing the title line of "Don't Talk to Strangers," one more adorable than the next. But none of us were prepared for what came out of one 6-year-old boy's mouth. I can best describe it as the noise that Daryl Hannah's character makes when Tom asks her what her name is in "Splash." It really knocked the whole audience for a loop when that powerful screech came out of that little body.

Rick made his way into the crowd as he always does for "Human Touch," and as the throngs surged forth to try and pull his arm out of the socket, the only thought that crossed my mind was "Got 'er done at the book signing."

And like he sings, "we all need ... the (documented) human touch."

A night at the improv

You never get the same show twice when you go to see Glenn Tilbrook. First there are the different variations -- solo acoustic, with the Fluffers and, of course, seminal '80s band Squeeze. But the one thing you'll be sure of is to come out as impressed as ever.

Second, most musicians have a forte -- something they're better at that something else. But not this guy. Glenn is an excellent vocalist (never hits a bum note I believe is the term Mark used), a consummate guitar player, a fascinating writer and a stellar showman.

For his latest gig at teeny tiny Maxwell's in Hoboken, he performed with just a guitar. Unless you count the iPad, which he made use of for accompaniment on select songs. And you can also count background vocals from the crowd, who hung on every word and/or note. (Well most of them, we'll just leave out the throngs in the back of the room who apparently came just to chat it up.)



The first eight or so songs of the set were all requests from the audience, including "Piccadilly," "Touching Me Touching You," "Black Sheep," "Another Nail in My Heart" and "By the Light of the Cash Machine." Nothing fazed the man, although he didn't seem particularly interested in "Maidstone."

But he took control of the setlist for "Take Me I'm Yours," utilizing the iPad (and a member of the audience to control the keys for part of it) to recreate the Middle Eastern sounds that emanated on the version that Glenn and Squeeze partner Chris Difford recreated for album "Desert Roses 2."

Left out of the mix were "Untouchable," which I heard during my exclusive soundcheck access -- OK, I was in the bathroom when he played it -- and the song on my t-shirt, "Black Coffee in Bed." But as a big believer in the art of the setlist, I didn't really miss them none neither. And a lot of songs that crossed my mind during the course of the show -- like "This Is Where You Ain't" and "Vanity Fair" -- wound up being played anyway. But I won't even try to take credit for the unexpected and exuberant "Harper Valley PTA."



In the intimate setting, everything sounded great. Songs that usually get a pass from me on the iPod, like the aforementioned "Black Sheep" and "Cash Machine" sounded fresh and benefited from the acoustic treatment, because the words resonated more. Even better, the likes of "Labelled with Love," "Some Fantastic Place" and "Still," the latter being what Mark probably would have yelled at if he wasn't standing next to a setlist purist.

Of course, he delivered quite a few others from the Squeeze catalog with vim and vigor -- "Annie Get Your Gun," "Up the Junction," "Vicky Verky," "If I Didn't Love You," "Pulling Mussels," "Slap and Tickle," "Is That Love" and "Goodbye Girl." On the first verse of "Tempted," part of the crowd began singing the backup vocals, so on the second verse he had the audience sing the main part and he animatedly took control of the background.

Glenn mentioned that he and Squeeze had been on stage at London's famed Royal Albert Hall weeks earlier. Now it was just him, his moustachioed compadre, his guitar and his iPad and he couldn't have looked happier. Nor could any of us.

Now that's what I call music

On the way up the street a couple miles to the State Theater in New Brunswick, the cab driver had a Kanye West song blaring. Rihanna was doing atmospheric vocals. But the whole thing was leaving me colder than the freezing temperatures outside. It wasn't until an hour or so later that I figured out why.



The occasion was Jeff Beck's Rock 'N' Roll Party, and the mini-tour had stopped in New Brunswick -- home of the late, great Les Paul, to whom much of the show was inspired by. And from the opening notes of "Baby, Let's Play House" to the final refrain of "Danny Boy," I was enraptured.

Jeff enlisted the Imelda May Band, whose namesake is a torch singer trapped in the body of a consummate James Bond villainess. Imelda's husband, Darrel Higham, who can deliver classic '50s songs like he just stepped out of a time machine, kicked off the Party with a rousing "Baby, Let's Play House."

Of course, the real revelation -- even after a few shows for me now -- is still Jeff Beck. I would probably be classified, in general, as a person who tends to take instant likes (or dislikes) musically and I don't often change my mind either way. And no matter how much I enjoyed his kitschy video for "Ambitious" in the '80s, I never took to him the way I really wanted to.



Then I started seeing him live. And now for me, well, I just wouldn't compare him negatively to anyone -- and I mean ANY ONE. His trademark style always seemed a little disjointed to me, I guess it didn't sort of get to the heart of the matter for me like Eric Clapton did. But after seeing my first couple of shows with Jeff, I realized that was my improper assessment of his talent and soul, and not anything he was doing directly.

The man is a master. He knows exactly what he wants out of a song, and he knows exactly how to get it. That was never more apparent than at the Rock 'N' Roll Party. The songs he covered are classics, and hard-to-play ones at that (particularly those of Les Paul, as Mark pointed out). But he approaches all of them with such reverence and such talent that they sound 1.) exactly the way you need them to, but also 2.) fresher than they have any right to.

The first part of the show featured songs by legendary Les and a lot are numbers I either forgot or didn't know were his -- "Cry Me a River", "How High the Moon," "Vaya Con Dios," "Mockingbird Hill" and Imelda's favorites "Tiger Rag." And, of course, the likes of "Train Kept A-Rollin,'" "I'm Sitting on Top of the World" and "That's All Right." Every one of them just immaculately delivered by Imelda (even matching her prerecorded backup vocals, which had to be incredibly difficult for everyone involved) and with pinpoint perfection by Jeff.



Jeff rolled out the brass for "Peter Gunn" and the festivities went to another level. "Sleepwalk," another song everyone knows so well by heart, cut right to the core and there was a great laugh as Jeff recovered his slide for the final notes. Imelda belted out incendiary versions of "Please Mr. Jailer" and "Casting a Spell on You" and even shared the mic with Jeff (?!?!) for backup vocals on Darrel's cool cover of Little Richard's "The Girl Can't Help It." He also did justice to "Rock Around the Clock" and "Hound Dog," the latter of which appeared to be ending when it kicked into a slowed-down bluesy version.

But I've neglected to mention the showstopper for me (Mark's too!) -- Remember (Walking in the Sand). Mere words can't do this one justice, so do us both a favor and click on the video at the top of the blog and check it out yourself (although this is from the previous night's show at the Beacon). Just the perfect match of Imelda's voice and Jeff's guitar. Not meaning to insinuate in the slightest that the others weren't, because there wasn't a false note in the show -- literally and figuratively.

I started wondering if my mom would really enjoy hearing all these songs from her era, freshly delivered. And if Kanye would. Spinning this kind of material through his talent would make it come alive for the next generation -- the essence of music itself.

While I gently weep at the guitar

I am thrice Experienced! Wednesday night was my third Experience Hendrix show, back at the Beacon (thank Gawd!)

And talk about being third time charmed. I wasn't prepared for the ultimate surprise -- Jimi's Woodstock Stratocaster was in the building ... and used on stage by Eric Johnson and Kenny Wayne Shepherd! (This must be my year for seeing legendary guitars following Eric Clapton's Blackie and George Harrison's Gibson at Crossroads.)

The Woodstock Strat was truly mesmerizing. And for the record, Eric J. sort of let it play him on "Are You Experienced?" But Kenny Wayne play-ed it on "I Don't Live Today" and "Let the Good Times Roll." And in my breastplate, I felt an inkling of what the assembled masses at Yasgur's Farm did all those years ago.

On to the highlights and lowlights:

Most inspired matchup: They saved the best for first. Hendrix's Band of Gypsys bandmate Billy Cox, former Stevie Ray Vaughan drummer Chris Layton and Isley Brothers' axe slinger Ernie Isley. Isley burned on "Manic Depression" and reached into the Hendrixian bag of guitar-playing tricks (over the shoulder ... with his mouth) for "Amazing Grace." Didn't even cross my mind that I wasn't hearing my all-time favorite song -- the Isleys' "This Old Heart of Mine."

Most uninspired matchup: Poor Jonny Lang. He gamely performed "All Along the Watchtower" and "The Wind Cries Mary" with Aerosmith's Brad Whitford, but Whitford's solos were somnambulistic. Susan Tedeschi, Robert Randolph and Living Colour's Corey Glover and Vernon Reid did their part to aid Jonny's cause, adding spirited backing vocals on "Fire."

Most unintentional pop culture references: Corey Glover looked like a slimmed-down Rerun from "What's Happening," with his grandpa cap, checkered jacket and before-its-time hip-hoppy dance moves. But gotta go with Kenny Wayne Shepherd, who came off like Jon Heder in "Blades of Glory," complete with hair flip.

Best example of female power: Only two options, but both great -- Jimi's sister Janie, who has kept a careful watch over the Hendrix catalog and its releases, and the ever-powerful Susan Tedeschi, the tour's Foxey Lady in a shimmery silver dress. Gotta go with Susan, particularly for her dazzling takes on "If 6 Were 9" and "Spanish Castle Magic."

Best use of the Hendrix spirit: I wouldn't call Steve Vai my favorite of the night, but he was the performer who delivered the most Hendrixian-inspired performance. He mixed Jimi's trademark style with his own, particularly on "May This Be Love," rather than just give some kind of karaoke guitar performance of the classic songs.

Best example of what not to cover: You would think that guitar world would have been aware of how Eric Clapton and Steve Winwood just murderalized "Voodoo Chile" on their reunion tours/at Crossroads and avoid it at all costs. But Kenny Wayne Shepherd (and his usual lead singer Noah Hunt) tried ... and fell short mightily. (The assembled patronage going wild for it obviously didn't see any of the EC/SW shows.)

My favorite of the night (obviously not involving the Woodstock Strat since that CAN NOT be topped): The nominees are: "Crosstown Traffic" (with Living Colour's Corey Glover and Robert Randolph), Ernie Isley's "Manic Depression" and Kenny Wayne Shepherd's "Voodoo Chile (Slight Return). Will go with "Crosstown Traffic," particularly for symmetrical reasons, since at the time 'Ark was winding his way through the city to the event.

Sick? Go see the doctor!

On Oct. 13, I was in the midst of a pretty bad battle with the dreaded flu bug. Rick Springfield was in the state doing a signing for his New York Times best seller "Late, Late at Night."

The stars weren't exactly aligned for me to go. I had taken the day off from work, but I really needed some rest and Mark was off to Home Depot to fill out all the requisite paperwork for his new job and it didn't seem like there would be enough time to get 'er done.

But then a text message, "I'm on my way back ... let's go see, Rick." And despite some reservations about making my first love ill (not to mention scads of loyal fans), I prepared to go. I wasn't sure we'd even make it, since the signing started at 1 p.m. and that's pretty much the time we left our abode.

We did get to Bookends (so named because it's at the end of New Jersey? OK, only Ridgewood) in time. And I dutifully bought my book and got on the line to wait my turn. We winded around and around and around, but I felt sicker and sicker as we worked our way to the front.

There had been a bit of a verbal scrum with Mark during the course of the wait. He wanted to take a picture with me and Rick, but I didn't want to because I 1.) looked like death and he looked like a million bucks, 2.) had my glasses on, 3.) had no makeup on and 4.) did I mention, I looked like death? But he talked me into it -- weakened condition!!! -- by saying that we could always keep it just for us and have no one else see it.

Now the first time I got to meet Rick, it was a total surprise. Sis and brother-in-law and I were going to a show and there was a surprise signing set up at a neighboring record store. (Well, surprise to us anyway.) And when it was my turn, I had to walk a bit of a distance from the line to the man. And I just couldn't say anything. So Sis helped me out ... by yelling "Talk!" and that opened up the gates for a flurry of comments.

This time, I don't know if it was my bloodless state of illness, but I didn't freeze up. Gave him my book, told him how to spell my name and moved closer for the picture (ahhhh, he's rubbing my back. Nice, healing Dr. Drake). I can still feel the fabric of his coat.

And then I blurted out the little speech I had prepared, kind of in some semblance of order. During the New York show, I had this realization that maybe Rick's affinity for the likes of Eric Clapton and Jimi Hendrix had been a gateway to my deep love for their music. I told him (the way I remember it, anyway) that I hoped he always included a cover like "Crossroads" or "Fire" in his shows, and I probably loved those artists so much because of the many hours spent in my bedroom air guitaring to his records! I got a nice hearty chuckle at that one too.

And that was it. Short and sweet. And we're back in the truck and I look at the picture that was taken and, hey, it's not half bad actually. Mark said I was beaming for three seconds while it was taken. Well, what kind of cure would you expect from a TV doctor, anyway? ;)