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? ;)

How I learned my ABC's

As you know, by nature, concerts are a real sensory experience. It's more than just going to hear a musician and/or group drive through a setlist to get to his/her/their biggest hits. The memories and emotions that come up can be unexpected and even revelatory.

That definitely was the case for me at the Nokia Theater last night. I don't know how many times I've seen Rick Springfield, but it's got to be at least a dozen by now. And as much fun as I have rocking out, I have as much recapturing the old feelings.

So they had two "adult beverages" for sale with sort of familiar monikers: A "Port Charles," some kind of sour apple concoction and the "Dr. Noah Drake" -- Absolut Pepper, lime and soda. I chose the latter, thinking that the former would have had my eyes watering. Ha on me, my nostrils are still inflamed from Dr. Drake. And my quip to the bartender -- "This tastes nothing like him!" (As if I would know!)

It was Mark's second Rick concert, and lest you think he's being dragged, he actually likes the guy and bemoans the "teen idol" status that will forever keep him from being recognized as an actual musician and -- wait for it -- solid guitarist!

We also met a really cool couple. The man, from England, is a HUGE Rick fan and his wife, from Albania, had never seen him before. And we had some pretty impressive seats -- four rows from the stage on the left. Mark noted that the speakers in front of us had wayward rose petals near it, fallout from Rick's proclivity for shredding roses fans give him on the guitar.

The show starts with "Who Killed Rock N Roll" and I'm just rocking out and lip-synching, 'cause people are there to hear him and NOT my voice. And then "I've Done Everything for You," and now the flood of flashbacks start. At some point, I noticed I was playing air guitar, and that's something I can't remember not doing. I learned air guitar from Rick Springfield!!!

"Affair of the Heart" ... always one of my personal favorites ... and I'm still air guitar-ing along ... and remembering sitting in front of MTV for hours, just waiting for the video to come back on again. "I don't have to look any further than into your eyes."

"Living in Oz," the title track from one of his best albums and Rick and I are having similar hair problems, namely the hair's in our respective faces while we're rocking out. ... "What's Victoria's Secret?" If I can properly call a Rick song "insidious" it's this one, because it gets stuck in your head for weeks! ... "Alyson" and always trying to figure out who his co-star was. (Maybe his autobiography coming out next month will shed some light on that.)

"Venus in Overdrive" and Rick points out his cue cards courtesy of the "Yeah, Yeah Girls" (each one has one that says "Yeah") ... "I'll Miss That Someday," a great example of how Rick can mix really heartfelt emotion with a penchant for rocking out. ... "Love Is Alright Tonight," the song that was in my head prior to the show. And I can see 14-year-old Paige rocking out in the bedroom...

Then Rick gets serious. He noodles around with some riffs -- and won't be denied by the still squealing female fans -- en route to a very spirited cover of Jimi Hendrix's "Fire." So spirited, in fact, that I was in full hippie rockout mode. Whirling dervish mode, I believe Mark would call it. And so dervishy that it took me half of "Don't Talk to Strangers" to recover -- to be specific, the part in which (the backup band) sings in French.

But then another revelation. Was Rick my "gateway" to my extreme love for Clapton and Hendrix? Because those guys, in turn, led me their inspirations (Muddy Waters, the three Kings, Buddy Guy, Robert Johnson). Even if I didn't know at the time that Rick was studiously trying to copy "Crossroads" note for note, some of that had to appear in his music and, thusly, was passed on to me.

Of course, there was lots of Rick banter between songs. He was given a sippy cup (with the stopper still in it!) full of wine, which he heartily drank throughout the show. One of the guys in the crowd had a hat that rivaled bassist Matt's, so that became a running theme in the show. And as always, much fun with crowd participation on "Don't Talk to Strangers."

Rick always puts down his feature film, "Hard to Hold," deeming it "Hard to Watch," but I'd like to remind him that he got good reviews for it, even if the movie itself didn't. And I could point out the time I took a middle-aged newspaper columnist to the movie ... and he enjoyed it! Anyway, cue "Love Somebody" and more air guitar.

"Human Touch" ... which gets him all kinds of pinched and rubbed on, but not me, 'cause he didn't get near us. (And that's not me anyway, however, I do think the two ladies in front of us woulda left some bruises.) And "Jessie's Girl." I hadn't heard that one before. ;)

"Jesus Saves," which I expected would be Mark's favorite -- and it was -- and "Kristina," reminding me as always of being at a March of Dimes walk-a-thon with my sister -- two headphones plugged into one Walkman jack and listening to that song.

And then that was it. Didn't it just start? Well, thanks for the history lesson, Teach. I'll miss that someday...

Naked in New York

When I first saw "Across the Universe" -- the movie built on Beatles songs and references -- I thought the Janis Joplinian character was soulful, raspy-voiced singer Joan Osborne. Of course, she turned out to be soulful, raspy-voiced singer Dana Fuchs.

And until the Rubin Museum of Art's series "Naked Soul," I thought they were kind of two sides of the same coin. Joan started out on a bluesy trek, no doubt inspired by the Etta James and Howlin' Wolf records she was listening too, but has sort of -- and I hesitate to use this word because of its negative connotations -- mellowed. Meanwhile, Dana, well, Dana just belts for days.

In "Naked Soul," the artist performs totally acoustic. Not MTV Unplugged idea of acoustic, but without microphone or amplification of any kind to 120-something people in a tiny room at the Himalayan museum. And that's where the differences become even more apparent. Both artists also were able to tour the museum and picked out pieces that were shown behind them on the projector during particular songs.

Dana appeared with her musical partner (and former beau) Jon in July, hot off a vibrant European tour in which audiences gave her the adulation she richly deserves from her home country. That transformed her both on and off the stage, resulting in several great new songs being prepared for her first album in years.




















Now in the relative safety of the small room, with the paintings for inspiration and patrons able to understand English (the only thing apparently missing during their European sojourn), Dana emotionally detailed the various songs on the setlist.

The show stopper was "Summersong," a very catchy little ditty that stayed in our heads for days afterward. Since the song utilized percussion and backup singers in the studio, Dana wasn't sure it would translate in the intimate setting. It did that, and then some. "That didn't work at all," an audience member quipped after the song garnered the most applause of any number of the night.

"Nothing's What I Cry For," "Set It on Fire" and "Keep on Rolling" also ensured that Dana's future setlists not only won't suffer from the addition of new material, but will flourish instead. And there will always be room in the setlist for the likes of "Drive," "Bible Baby" and the dynamic cover of "Helter Skelter."

It took both Dana and Joan a number or so to settle into the environs, to figure out how much the tambourine or other assorted noisemakers should be factored into the mix without unsettling the backup musician. (Joan added she hadn't performed without a microphone since elementary school.) But then they both quickly embraced the medium and flourished in it.

Whereas Dana powered on with her vocals -- which was very necessary in the face of a crowd eager to provide hand clapping or singing and just remain in the mix -- Joan was able to modulate her voice before an audience that quietly sat enraptured until the last note of each song was played.

With Keith Cotton providing piano and backup vocals Saturday, Joan created picture postcards before us in a way that reminded me of watching theater. She also had new songs to mix among old favorites like "St. Teresa," "Spider Web" and, of course, her hit "One of Us." She had a clear-cut future single in "The Next Sensation I Feel," which rolled along like a double-decker train darting down the tracks.

Joan paid homage to quite a few influences with Billie Holliday's "God Bless the Child," which she told us was the first song she ever sang publicly, Sly and the Family Stone's "Everybody Is a Star" and Van Morrison's "Tupelo Honey" (performed the way she used to in the Village with a line from Emmylou Harris' "Boulder to Birmingham").

If only the mainstream would give tunes like "Summersong" or "The Next Sensation I Feel" a chance and stop force-feeding us things they think we want to hear. Then the music scene could get more naked -- not in the way the tweenyboppers actually wear next to nothing -- but just at the core of the music where catchy riffs, lyrics that ring true and sheer talent will always pull us all in.