Retirement is severely overrated

Going to an Eric Clapton concert is always more than spending a couple of hours in blues heaven. Especially when you do it our way.

First, there's hanging with some of my favorite people on the planet. I was in EC Access for a couple years, found the people I liked, then left the fan club behind and was set for life after that.

So for Clapton's April out-of-retirement Madison Square Garden weekend stint, I got to take my Detroit friends -- Bruce and Renee -- to a Broadway play, namely Kevin Kline's Present Laughter. It hasn't officially opened on Broadway yet, and yeah, there are a few technical bugs and a bit of a dry patch near the end of the first act, but it was a great time. Truth be told, I wouldn't mind if Kline stood there and read us the phone book as long as he did it with the timing and inflection that are so inherent in his performances.

That was just for starters on a day with so much laughter, some truly dazzling Keens Steakhouse kabobs and many rum-based drinks (I had two doubles before I ever had anything to eat). On the way, I did exactly what I said I was afraid in last week's girl power blog -- I belted a song on the streets of New York. Then we were joined by Susan and Sam and Steve (aka Doc Proc). Then later, there was Tony and Lauren and Stephanie and Barry.

The saddest part of the afternoon was finding out Chuck Berry had passed. But even that turned into a celebration of the more positive aspects of a true legend -- including the memory of the first weekend I met Susan and Steve and Mark and they dragged me to see Berry at B.B. King's. How Doc Proc reflexively clamped down on my knee so hard when Chuck came out he almost left a mark. Speaking of Mark, that guy had yanked my f'n arm out of the socket when an invitation was issued for members of the audience to dance on stage. And how I must have been doing something right, 'cause Berry kind of stopped and jammed in front of me when there was a whole line of people doing the same on the stage. (Damn, Tony, I already can't recount it the way I did the other night.)

But that's what it's like when you hang with the E.C. gang, remembering times we've had as a group or portions of the group recounting tales to those of us who weren't there at the time.

For Monday's show, Sammy had unfortunately departed and Mark and Pam fortunately joined us. Thanks to Bruce, Park had sixth-row seats for the event and Doc Proc finagled his way to the open seat next to us. I sauntered up to the empty stage for a picture -- and ran into my co-worker's ex-roommate, her boyfriend and her parents. They were front row right in front of where Eric's mic. But I loved our seats.

The night featured a half-hour set by Mark's favorite Vaughan brother, Jimmie, on his 66th birthday and 45 minutes by one of the best guitarists out there right now -- Gary Clark Jr. Just incredible, and "the man" was still to come. Around this time I found out my cousin, Kristen, was also at the show with her co-workers, but by then, I was glued to my spot and had to miss out on some family time.

Clapton's set: Somebody Knocking, Key to the Highway, Hoochie Coochie Man, I Shot the Sheriff, Driftin', Nobody Knows You When You're Down and Out, Layla (acoustic), Tears In Heaven, Badge, Wonderful Tonight, Crossroads, Little Queen of Spades, Cocaine. Encore: Sunshine of Your Love, Before You Accuse Me (with Jimmie Vaughan and Gary Clark Jr.)

I was riding such a buzz, half from the atmosphere and half from my double, that I was waiting for "Key to the Highway" when we had already heard it. But not so out of it that I still couldn't recognize "I Shot the Sheriff" a couple of minutes before the rest of the crowd caught on.
It was fortuitous that I had donned my Cream sweatshirt, because my favorites of the night were probably those songs -- "Badge" (I was rocking out so hard I literally flipped my lid), "Crossroads" and "Sunshine of Your Love." The most poignant tune of the night had to be "Tears in Heaven." Doc Proc rightly pointed out it was the 26th anniversary of the loss of his son, Conor, which inspired the song. That reminded me of being at the shows on Eric's first tour following that tragedy -- the whole audience stood the whole time and listened so quietly and intently, applauding as E.C. finished each verse.

We were all guardedly optimistic after Clapton revealed last year that nerve damage had made playing the guitar a struggle for him. The fact that he's on the stage at all is a godsend, so I don't quibble about terse, pointed solos or a familiar set list. For years, he's gone with virtually the same songs, usually with a couple of alterations. Doing "Before You Accuse Me" with Vaughan and Clark was an inspired touch, and for me, a much better choice more-recent encore "High Time We Went."

After going over the show with the gang at Harrigan's, Mark and I headed back to the train station. Only to run into Doc Proc, who was waiting outside the Garden for bassist extraordinaire Nathan East. Was I shocked to get to meet him -- and to get hugs and kisses on top of that. You bet your sweet hoochie coochie I was. (Guys get handshakes, girls get hugs and kisses -- sometimes it's just really nice being a girl.)

I've seen Nathan play in Eric's band on and off for decades -- by the way, his opening to "Cocaine" that night just resonated into my belly -- so I was gobsmacked for about a minute before I joined in the conversation. We saw a great picture of Nathan's daughter, Sara, leaping a hurdle as she recently changed from gymnastics to track and field, and I said something about what a startling change that must have been for her. Gymnastics requires so much of your time and energy, and it had to be difficult for her to leave that behind.

There was stuff in there too about how great they sounded for the show and Doc Proc's trademark head on a stick, which has expanded to like 20 times its original size. Then I got to be in a shot too, thanks to Mark, and instead of "cheese" I asked him to hoot -- another callback to an era in which Nathan and Greg Phillinganes toured with Eric and Phil Collins and there were "whoo" cries sprinkled through many a number. I couldn't believe he did it, that just goes to show how nice of a guy he is.

What I totally forgot to do was tell him how much his song "Easy Lover" has meant to my Sestra and I over the years. How we always sang it together back in the day, how to this day, we do check-ins, messaging each other when we randomly hear it. We get to do this all again with E.C. in September, maybe I'll get another crack at that, and at the very least, another weekend of great music and great friends.

How should 'We' look at ourselves?

So while we're awaiting word of another season of The X-Files, David Duchovny is off playing rock star and Gillian Anderson is challenging the world.

Now that's oversimplifying things, but attending Gillian's book event at the Society for Ethical Culture on Monday really pointed out a certain disparity to me. Watch the video here. Anderson and Jennifer Nadel discussed their joint effort, We: A Manifesto for Women Everywhere, and they could really have something here. Could it be a Walden for our times? I'm sure they're not shooting that high, but if it promotes women taking closer at our needs and bringing that to discussion, maybe we could see some long-overdue shifting of norms in society.

The book starts with ways women can look closer at themselves. It's long been important to Gillian to compartmentalize the performer side of herself from her "real" life. When not in public persona, she said she doesn't put on makeup, her hair's in a ponytail and she's wearing black jeans and motorcycle boots. "Most of the time I'm just a mom," she said, adding that the "remnants of what sometimes seems like insanity" aren't really visible.

As a television news reporter, Nadel found she spent a lot off time conforming to men's ideals. "I didn't bring who I really was into the workplace," she said. "Each time I did that, I shaved away a little piece of who I was."

And that's the initial point of We -- women lie more to ourselves than anyone else. Anderson admitted she finds parenting really hard -- and that's not something that's usually talked about at all. But she's already experienced -- through the earliest returns of their book -- women thanking her for having the courage to say such a thing out loud. "It's not that one boy plus one boy equals two boys," Gillian said of her sons. "One boy plus one boy equals 10 boys. It's just a fact."

Then there are other issues that women don't traditionally talk about, such as Anderson's diagnosis of perimenopause, the hormonal transition to menopause. I personally learned about hot flashes by watching Cybill Shepherd's half-hour comedy, Cybill. I was just waiting to see how long it would be before I dumped a bucket of ice on myself. Now I have some more insight into internal changes just as relevant and evident as temperature swells.

With six children -- and five boys -- between them, Gillian and Jennifer have seen first-hand how boys start out tender and sensitive. But then they're sent out into the world and toughened up. So although We is pointedly aimed at women, men too might see the benefit of taking an inward journey.

The authors would just like to see more conversations about personal and global issues. "We can not counter hate with hate," Nadel said, adding that righteous indignation only gets people so far and doesn't actually address a problem. "We have to accept what is before we can do something about it."

And that starts small, within oneself. Jennifer gave an example that hit me right where I live. In school, she was told she was tone deaf. (Me too! Well, not told to my face, but excused from chorus had the same effect.) She was always skipped in class when it came time to sing, but now she sings out in public, whenever she feels like it. I'm not far enough along in the process that I'm ready for that, but I definitely appreciate her strength.

It's not as easy as it might sound, especially to an actress who thought that if she let go of some self-destructive tendencies that she would lose the edge to her talent. "That doesn't go away," Anderson said. "The tension between that and human existence can be so interesting."

But Gillian finds she still has to stand up for herself, even over 20 years after the start of the series that made her a household name. Early on in The X-Files, she was told to walk a few paces behind her co-star. "I found my way to his side, or maybe a little in front of him," she said. And just recently, when the show was revived a couple of years ago, Anderson was offered half of what co-star Duchovny made in his deal. No wonder the 11th season hasn't been set in stone yet.

So where will We go from here? I sure hope the top of the best sellers' list, but Gillian was pretty direct about it: "I don't know." As long as women turn to other women. "We can not leave it to politicians," Nadel said. "We need to stand shoulder to shoulder."

And I plan to do that, right after I face an important truth about myself. I'm in the city, it's not too late, and I really want some cheddar cheese popcorn from Garrett, even though that will turn my fingers orange for a couple days. Then I'll work on the rest, because for food for thought is even more important.

Close encounter with 'Close Encounters'

It would have been enough just to see my favorite film of all time on the big screen again. It wound up being so much more than that.

But first I had to wrangle a ticket to the Metrograph screening of Close Encounters of the Third Kind. (For those who need to know, they were showing the Directors' Cut, which has all the best parts of the original film, includes the special edition's Cotopaxi scene and -- thank gawd -- eliminates the view from inside the spaceship.) The Lower East Side cinema has a small intimate house, so tickets were pretty much gone when I found out about the movie after New Year's.

I wasn't daunted, though. My original plan was to stand outside the venue with a replica of the "Stop and be friendly" sign utilized in the movie with a note at the bottom, "And I need a ticket!!" After contacting the box office, I found out that the wheelchair-accessible seats were up for grabs and I quickly snatched one up.

The next night I headed to the theater. Boy, did I get turned around on the Lower East Side. Even Google Maps could not save me, but I did make it to theater on time. I started talking movies with my "neighbor" to my right -- Chris. Then my neighbor to the left arrived and she and Chris were chatting away. Since I was in the middle, I wound up in the conversation and heard all about how much she loved the movie. I said it was my favorite, she said she would say it was her favorite, but her husband wouldn't like that. Her husband? The late, great director Ken Russell.

Right before the film started, Bob Balaban (who played the interpreter for Francois Truffaut's character) was introduced. But he was too busy renewing ties with Lisi Tribble Russell to make his way to the front of the room. Eventually Bob got up there and said a few words about Close Encounters being the most complete film he'd ever been a part of. Then it was show time.

Lisi was a great person to watch the film with. She and I led the applause when director of photography Vilmos Zigmond's name came on the screen during the opening's abbreviated credits. We laughed through the whole thing like old friends and exhaled heavily after the tenser moments of the movie -- like the scene in which Richard Dreyfuss' character is building Devils Tower in his living room. The news is showing reports of an "accident" near the actual Devils Tower, but he's so busy talking on the phone that he doesn't see it for a couple of minutes.

It was amazing seeing my fave flick on the big screen for the first time since the Special Edition came out in 1980. There were so many details to be noticed, from the Soap Opera Digest on Jillian Guiler's end table -- Bill and Susan Hayes (Doug and Julie from Days of Our Lives, who are later seen on the television when Roy Neary constructs that living-room tower) -- to Melinda Dillon's tears when they spot the actual Devils Tower off in the distance.

 

After the movie, Bob did a Q&A. My meticulously prepared question fell by the wayside when he told the story of looking so much like Richard's character in Jaws that members of the crew at lunch would ask Balaban for his autograph, even when Dreyfuss was sitting nearby. The two of them went to the Jaws premiere together, and again fans came up to Bob thinking he was Richard, even though clean-shaven Dreyfuss was with him.

Balaban also recounted the audition process. He was asked to speak French and basically bluffed his way to the job with the minimal Francais he was able to string together. Obviously, working with the amazing Truffaut was a highlight, and he talked about how the famed director never second-guessed choices made by Steven Spielberg. "He really was looking forward to just being in his movie," Bob said of Francois. "He was a fantastic, gentle, loving person. And he admired Steven tremendously."

Even so, the duo never had any idea of what the final result was going to be, mainly because there wasn't any green screen, it was just Spielberg explaining what they were supposed to be seeing. "We had no idea of the emotional undercurrent," Balaban explained. "In a lot of the scenes, we were just standing around and applauding."

I did ask another question on the fly. There's a great scene at Devils Tower in which Truffaut and Balaban's characters are talking to an Army major about those "touched by the implanted vision" who came to the site despite great risks. Everything Francois said in French, Bob quickly translated into English. But at the end of the scene, in English, Truffaut says, "Because this means something." Then Balaban repeats what he said in English. So I asked whether that was planned or just came out of the moment.

"It's possible I made a mistake and he kept it," Bob told us. I responded that it worked really well. Obviously that was why it made Spielberg's final cut -- in all three versions of the film.

Balaban ended up writing a great little book on his experience. Originally called the Close Encounters of the Third Kind Diary, it's now known as Spielberg, Truffaut & Me -- guess which one I have? Letters to his wife and the impetus of writing a term paper ultimately enabled him to complete the book. Bob hasn't done that for any other film he's worked on -- "I didn't want to be known as the mole on the set," he quipped.

I'd heard some of the Q&A stories before, but one of the ones not in his book and which he had just heard recently was simultaneously creepy and funny. One of the people who helped put together the the mother ship said dead mice found in the excrutiatingly hot studio space were stapled to the bottom to make the model more elaborate and alien. "No mice were hurt in the making of film," Balaban quickly added.

After that, some of us remained to talk with Bob. I brought the booklet from my Close Encounters Blu-Ray box and flipped to Balaban's page for the signature. Around that time, others milling about pointed out my Devils Tower cap and Close Encounters soundboard sweatshirt. I'm glad Bob wasn't bothered by that. I told him I love him in so many things, which is so true, but that this particular film is my favorite of all time. It was very refreshing that he seemed to appreciate that and didn't look at me as though I was one of the aliens.
 
And then the camera on my brand-new iPhone Special Edition -- named Cotopaxi after the ship found in the desert during Close Encounters Special Edition -- stopped working. Luckily, I met another great person that day named Shade. (He showed me his driver's license to prove that's his moniker, even though I said it wasn't necessary.) He took the picture and gave me his email address so I could get it from him later. I'd like to point out how patient Balaban was during all of this. He didn't turn tail and run either, I think he talked with everyone who stayed behind.

He speaks "superfan" really, really well.

Red-hot mama Fuchs bursts back on scene

Motherhood definitely becomes Dana Fuchs.

After a few months off for the birth of son Aidan, the dynamic songstress returned to the stage with authority as part of the Rubin Museum of Art's Naked Soul program. The intimate acoustic concert, which started a wee bit late due to maternal necessity, not only showed she hadn't lost a step, but instead seems recharged and more entertaining than ever.

Dana swiftly set the tone with a vigorous rendition of Otis Rush's "Nobody's Fault But Mine," then cast aside the planned setlist in favor of songs she wanted to sing and the audience wanted to hear.

Naked Soul strives to combine the power of music with the glory of art. Each musician picks out pieces from the museum collection that he/she feels drawn to and details the connection felt toward them. For Fuchs, who admitted she's been on an emotional roller coaster the past couple of years with the passing of her sister, parents and two brothers, Buddhist works have resonated strongly. She explained to us about true enlightenment coming when there is no fear.

Dana certainly didn't display any at the show, engaging the audience at every turn, saying she pictures faces from her audience when practicing her material. She surprised longtime producer, guitarist and co-writer Jon Diamond by wanting to perform the new song "Callin' Angels" as her second offering of the night. The ballad contains verses for each of the family members she lost in chronological order of their departures, and the audience wound up as choked up by the words as Fuchs was on the stage.



The evening also included a number of covers, from Randy Newman's "Guilty" -- which Dana said she hadn't performed live since her early days in New York City to "Love Hurts," best known by Nazareth but originally performed by The Everly Brothers. Fuchs admitted she often channeled Koko Taylor when performing Etta James' "I'd Rather See You Blind," and also belted the Beatles' song that has brought so many fans in the door, "Helter Skelter," from Across the Universe. One of Dana's many strong suits has been making covers her own, presented in her unique voice and style. There wasn't a false note -- or feeling -- in any of them, which begged comparisons to how she drew inspiration from the works of art on the screen behind her as well.

Can I call her and Jon's attempts at performing "Bad Seed" a highlight? See, they never actually executed the song. It's been about a decade since they played it during a show, and even with an audience member trying to help Diamond find the key by queuing the song up on her cell phone, it was not to be. Fuchs did promise to deliver it at a later concert. (We'll be holding you to that, Dana. I've been waiting to hear it for years.)



But we did get a glorious "Nothing on My Mind" and the ditty lent itself well to some Buddha shorthand. As Fuchs explained, the country song at its heart is about attachment to a partner who ends up leaving ... and then karma when the person who did the leaving gets left. She quipped Buddha was probably rolling over in the proverbial grave with her oversimplified explanation.

Dana told us some charming and lighthearted stories about motherhood, but quickly added she wouldn't become one of those artists who obsesses on that experience. And then she performed a song that drew a nice parallel. Her mother wanted her to write a love song. She thought long and hard about that, and then delivered a tune that was about as close to a love song as she thought she'd ever get -- "Misery." I expect Fuchs' life as a parent to be expressed in her music in much the same way, not with ribbons and bows, but cutting straight to the heart of it all the way she always does -- with keen insight in lyrics, some catchy riffs and a voice that drives us there.

Blame it on my wild heart

It's certainly not ideal to go to a concert when you're under the weather, but I wasn't going to miss out on my first Stevie Nicks solo show. Nor did I want to miss out on hanging with Stevie bud Jenna nor Chrissie Hyde and the Pretenders.

So I bundled up and headed to Madison Square Garden. I'd previously seen Chrissie at Lilith Fair and that woman has lost not one single thing over the decades. She and the boys put forth a high-energy set while the front woman displayed a penchant for humor as well.

"It's like being on tour with Elizabeth Taylor," Hynde quipped of her tour buddy between dedications of "Hymn to Her" and "Back on the Chain Gang."

Hynde and drummer Martin Chambers are the only remaining members of the original Pretenders lineup, but they gelled very easily with the rest of the newer faces on the likes of "Holy Communion" and "My City Was Gone," as well as the rest of the bevvy of more familiar numbers. On the former, Chrissie again garnered laughs by saying her song about religious tolerance is now appropriately about mere tolerance in our upside-down world.



She praised Chambers' work at the kit as he laid down a Buddy Rich riff en route to the striking familiar opening beats of "Middle of the Road." That song, "Don't Get Me Wrong" and "Brass in Pocket" kept everyone's spirits high. And the lighters -- well, the cell phone screens -- were out in force when she showed off her still amazing vocal range with "I'll Stand By You," sung back at her by thousands.

And then it was time for Stevie, a woman I worshipped in the early '80s, I remember imploring my mom to rush home so I could see her HBO special. (Before we had a VCR, of course.) And Jenna and I had to employ our own brand of tolerance with the nuts all around us in our otherwise fine seats, straight across the arena from the stage. To our left and ahead of us, people got into verbal tussles about whether standing was allowed or not. To our left and behind us, more fighting -- this time about the two women chirping and giggling behind us. And I couldn't fault the guy next to me for his complaints, although I did fear his "lose some weight" response to them saying "grow some hair" would end violently.

So at times, it was a little difficult to focus on the show. But there was an amazing combo of "Wild Heart" and "Bella Donna" -- the title tracks to the two albums that made me a diehard Stevie fan. And Hynde returned to the stage to sing "Stop Draggin' My Heart Around" with Stevie (and music director/wunderkind Waddy Wachtel).



Before the tour, Stevie said publicly she wasn't going to be matter of fact about her setlist for the show, picking gems from her "gothic trunk of mystical things." I know Jenna could have done without "If Anyone Falls" and I certainly didn't need another uninspired take on "Gypsy," but both of those were gotten out of the way relatively early.

For me, the highlight of the night was the Buckingham Nicks tune "Crying in the Night." The Fleetwood Mac precursor played very well all these decades later. Stevie credited Waddy with forcing her into it, and so cheers to him for that one.



Among the others Nicks picked out for the tour was her self-proclaimed best and favorite song, "Moonlight (A Vampire's Dream)" from Twilight -- hope she doesn't mind if I respectfully disagree and stick with "Silver Springs" -- and "New Orleans," which she said she started writing while emotionally watching coverage of Hurricane Katrina. 

Because of all the bickering around us, we were pretty selective about songs we chose to stand up for and rock out on. We stayed up for "Gold and Braid" when Nicks originally came out, got back up for the duet with Hynde (since most everyone else did), popped up for "Stand Back" -- as Prince's spirit wafted through the air ... and on the videoboard, then again when "Gold Dust Woman" and "Edge of Seventeen" closed the set. Everyone was on their feet for the encores "Rhiannon" and "Landslide." Both were lovely, even though the latter had just started appearing on the setlist during the most recent dates.

I couldn't have loved the show more if I had actually been conscious for it.

Eclectic election week adventures in the Big Apple

While riding the early November roller-coaster, it was rather wonderful to have three unique musical events to attend. It's better than chicken soup for my soul.

The first one took place before the Tuesday shockeroo at Madison Square Garden. It was the original lineup of Temple of the Dog, touring for the very first time, in support of the 25th anniversary release of their self-titled album. For those not in the know -- and there are quite a few 'cause I got a lot of "I don't know who that is" when talking about the show -- after the passing of Andrew Wood, his Mother Love Bone band mates Stone Gossard and Jeff Ament got together with Wood's roommate, Chris Cornell, and Soundgarden drummer Matt Cameron to commiserate about their grief and ultimately pay tribute to their friend. Mike McCready, who became a cornerstone in Pearl Jam with Stone and Jeff, handled lead guitar on the project and some guy named Eddie Vedder did some vocals on the album.

Setlist: Say Hello 2 Heaven, Wooden Jesus, Call Me a Dog, Your Saviour, Stardog Champion, Stargazer, Seasons, Jump into the Fire, Four Walled World, I'm a Mover, Pushin' Forward Back, Hunger Strike, Quicksand, Heartshine, River of Deceit, Holy Roller, Reach Down.

Encore Break: Man of Golden Words/Comfortably Numb, Times of Trouble, Achilles' Last Stand, Missing, Fascination Street, War Pigs. Second Encore Break: All Night Thing. 




It was an event I never expected to be able to experience, an actual Temple of the Dog show. After 90 minutes online for Ticketmaster the day they went on sale, I wound up with first row in a 300 section behind the stage. And truth be told, I wasn't so happy about that. (Especially day of show, when a guy I ran into told me he got a floor seat that day.) But I ended up really happy with my seat -- section 300 is the highest level in the arena, but it also juts out about halfway over section 100. So I had a nice view from behind that allowed me to see the interplay between the musicians, particularly Stone and Jeff.

This was something of a strange show for me. Questions just kept popping in my head. Everything from nonsensical to realistic. With the exception of one song, the music didn't really wash over me the way I feel like it usually does. It was a strange sensation.

I wondered what kind of reaction each member was having to the audience reaction? Did they feel less response than the waves of enthusiasm that radiate from Pearl Jam or Soundgarden crowds? Did they notice at all? Were they upset that covers -- most notably "Achilles' Last Stand" by Led Zeppelin -- seemed to get more of a reaction? Did the members of Pearl Jam compare and contrast Chris and Eddie as front men in their heads? Is that what some of the knowing nods were about?



The question hanging in the air was the one I didn't ask, namely would Vedder be there to sing his vocal portion of their big hit, "Hunger Strike"? He wasn't, but I didn't care and I loved the way they handled it. Cornell pointed the microphone at the audience, inducing them to sing Eddie's role. Let's face it, legions of Pearl Jam fans have longed to do that for decades.

There was a great story about how Ament had created a prop for the film Singles, a five-track cassette that had names of fictitious songs on it. Cornell told us he resolved to write a song based on each title. And that's how "Seasons" came to be -- that would be the only song of the night that I disappeared into. It reminds me so specifically of that era and where I was and what I was doing at that time.



Later we got a great surprise, another of the songs based on that cassette prop called "Missing" that had apparently only been played publicly once before. My question for that one -- "Was I the only one who loved that more than yet another cover of 'Comfortably Numb'"? I was truly grooving on that one.

At some point my questions got more mundane. Would the glass barriers everyone was leaning on so heavily fall off before or after the floor seemingly moving below my feet would give way? It was a very real concern, I started standing further back against my chair. And wasn't Mother Love Bone's "Holy Roller" a fantastic 1-2 punch with Temple of the Dog's "Reach Down" to end the first part of the set?

Andy Wood's presence was really felt in that building, a place Chris said he always dreamed of playing in. And that was the case with David Bowie as well during Friday's Seu Jorge show at Town Hall. It became a veritable Wes Anderson adventure for me when I went to the Bad Dads VI art show at the Spoke NYC Art Gallery first and saw dozens of art works inspired by the visionary director's work.

For those who don't know the boy named Seu, here are the facts. I generally consider Anderson my favorite director. In his film, The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou, Jorge plays Pele dos Santos -- a helping hand on Jacques Cousteau-esque Zissou's crew who often sits by his lonesome and sings David Bowie sings in Portugese while playing an acoustic guitar. Obviously a very cool cat.

And that's what Jorge did for us too. He was decked out in a costume from the movie, or at least an incredible facsimile. I didn't really expect to hear absorbing stories, charmingly spoken in halting English. Like the one about getting a phone call from Anderson asking him to playing Pele and his bemusement over why the director would want him to portray a soccer player.

Then they got down to the nitty gritty. Seu was asked whether he knew David Bowie's music. Well, he kind of confused him with the other blond rocker -- Billy Idol. But he did know Bowie's cover of Simon & Garfunkel's "America" and the No. 1 hit "Let's Dance." Anderson sent him more of Bowie's songs. As Jorge explained it to us, "'Changes' was the one that changed everything."



It's difficult to describe how hearing a song you know in one language sung in another in that atmosphere can affect you. It's the same, but it's different. Seu admitted in doing translations, there was a lot of paraphrasing. Except when it came to "Starman," as he utilized Nenhum de Nos' word-for-word version. Anyway, the music is so powerful, I could feel David Bowie in the room, I could feel Seu Jorge in the room. It was almost ethereal and very visceral.

He told us more tales of being on The Life Aquatic set, how he didn't know the star-studded cast by name, but he'd point to them and recall them being in particular movies. Anjelica Huston wound up playing translator for him, telling him Anderson's directions in French.



But we didn't have to speak the same language to feel the kick in the gut Seu experienced when David Bowie died last January and Jorge's father passed away the very next day. He dedicated "Life on Mars" -- already my favorite adaptation -- to the both of them, adding he knows his father is now on Mars. It was captivating and life-affirming and a bunch of other adjectives that haven't been invented yet. After a tough week, it sounds silly to say, but it did restore my faith in humanity. We're all in this world together.

It's hard to convey in any language how powerful the man and his guitar delivered Bowie's chestnuts. Through the songs he adapted for The Life Aquatic and some others, the likes of "Space Oddity," "Rebel Rebel," "Five Years" and "Queen Bitch," he just resonated. He wasn't overdramatic or artificial in the slightest, he provided an outlet for Bowie's message with charm and grace.




And then there was Kristin Chenoweth on Saturday night at the Lunt-Fontanne Theatre in a completely different show focused on the Broadway baby's love of the Great White Way. The approach may have been different, but the same reverence came through. The vocal spitfire performed songs she's known for, ones she's always loved and selected tracks from her latest CD, The Art of Elegance.

Over the course of her storied career, Chenoweth has been in A Chorus Line three times -- as Diana (with hair spray-painted black), Maggie and Val. While performing the latter in the Bible Belt, "Dance 10, Looks 3" was modified to "boobs and butt" because "tits and ass" were words that couldn't be uttered.



Then there was her take on her Wickedly beloved "Popular." Chenoweth started off by presenting the song in different languages, but Glinda's original connotation was quite different from the bucket of laughs she earned with mannerisms and inflection on certain words (personality dialysis?) that certainly recalled the president-elect. Later she did a take on her hero's Madeline Kahn's "I'm Tired" from Blazing Saddles, a reminder that she forsook a dream role -- Kahn's part in Young Frankenstein on Broadway -- in order to be Olive Snook in one of my all-time favorite TV shows, Pushing Daisies.

She tugged on our heart strings a lot. The song for her parents, "Fifty Years" was punctuated by a pair of stories -- first that her parents had been at her first two shows on this two-week engagement, soaking up the spotlight when they were introduced. And then on the third night, they were not there -- they were across the street at Hamilton. Kristin laughed that it was just like when the Von Trapp Family Singers are introduced at the end of The Sound of Music. They were gone. When the poignant ballad was over, she thanked her birth mother as well, a petite blonde who happened to be sitting with her daughter one row ahead of me.



"A House Is Not a Home" has become one of Chenoweth's trademark songs over the years, and even she didn't have a dry eye when she finished belting it out. I don't know her, but I certainly felt as though I did as she took seemingly every word, every syllable to heart. She felt just as strongly and delivered just as passionately the usually male vocal on "Bring Him Home" from Les Miserables.

Speaking of Kristin's persona shining through, she apologized (though she needn't have had to) for getting religious on Sandi Patty's "Upon This Rock," bringing out Furman University singers for the crowd-pleasing "Jesus song." "For you atheists, it'll be over in about four minutes," she quipped. She sipped on a 7-11 Big Gulp through the first act, but what she really had me at was "I had Chick-Fil-A today."

Chenoweth had a special guest each night of the run. Ours was very special indeed -- Kelli O'Hara, who bested her buddy at last year's Tony Awards. "Oklahoma" seemed like an appropriate and fun duet since they both hail from that state and studied with the same vocal teacher.



The second act of the show gave a big part of the spotlight to her friend and music director, Mary-Mitchell Campbell, performing on the piano right behind Kristin all night. After all the musicians on the stage cracked everyone up with "I'm Not a Diva," Chenoweth and Campbell beautifully warbled Dolly Parton's "Little Sparrow" and described creating their emotional version of Don Henley's "The Heart of the Matter" on a day in which there had been a terrorist attack.

And it was all capped by the return of the Furman singers for Lady Antebellum's "I Was Here" and then Kristin, microphone in her hand but down at her side, belting "Smile" -- do I know this most from Charlie Chaplin or Eric Clapton? No matter, because now I know it most from her -- to the rafters.

Through some eagle-eyed maneuvering, I picked up the last signed copy of her autobiography before the show and getting that and her new CD signed seemed to be an impressive ploy when Chenoweth came out and graciously gave everyone a less-easily-discernible scribble after the show. Before working her way through the throng, not speaking in the chilly night air, she excitedly jumped up and down and clapped as she came out the stage door -- mirroring the actions of almost everyone waiting for her.

When I got back to Penn Station, I heard the Muzak version "Moon River." Nice symmetry, but Kristin definitely wore it better. But a nice cap to a pretty great week after all.

Thawing out at Chiller

I'll admit I'm not quite sure which way to go with this particular blog. Should I detail how to crush on an 88-year-old in one easy lesson? Maybe I should recommend meeting people you might be on the fence about when working out your game plan. I can probably leave out the claim that they host Chiller in April and October so that there will always be a chill in the air while you're waiting on line outside.

The October event wasn't quite as jam-packed as in years past, you could actually make your way through the corridors with little trouble, and save the headliner, nobody's line seemed to be too much of a wait. In fact, if it wasn't for the presence of Tim Curry, the latest event might have been overly tame. But the Rocky Horror Picture Show star brought fans in in droves. The longest wait of the night for most of us was excitedly queuing up on the photo op line for our 30-second brush with the man, the myth.

The other crown jewel was Martin Landau. The man is 88 years old, but he seemed sharper than any of the rest of us. I was tickled just watching him check his cell phone. And then again when the gentleman in front of me informed the Oscar winner that he had just had a birthday -- he turned 72. Landau then quipped, "You're just a kid."

I'm a big fan of his work -- starting with the brilliant suspense thriller North by Northwest and on to Tucker: The Man And His Dream, the movie I expected him to win the Oscar for before he finally did with his dazzling turn as Bela Lugosi in Ed Wood. 

But first and foremost, I wanted to talk with Landau about the 1998 X-Files film. I wasn't sure what to expect, that was made almost two decades ago and maybe he wouldn't remember much about what some consider an unrewarding part. (Don't count me in that number, please.) But Landau had a lot of great things to say on the subject.

Chris Carter told Landau he was the only person he could envision playing Dr. Alvin Kurtzweil. The X-Files creator didn't have much of a character outline beyond a general description that he needed to seem sane and insane. The beleaguered doctor delivered a lot of exposition in the film, basically getting Mulder to go on wild goose chases. "I created a character out of nothing, so it was great fun," he said.

Even Mark was gobsmacked -- his word -- at being in the classy octogenarian's presence. After taking my photo with Landau, the actor looked at it and pronounced it to be "perfect." I couldn't agree more.

The first thing I had him autograph was my comprehensive X-Files book, the one that I bring to almost every convention getting anyone connected to the show to sign. He said, "You're a big X-Files fan, aren't you?" I said "Oh yes," proudly pointing out my Fight the Future shirt I wore in his honor. "Yes, I saw that," he replied. That tiny little logo on the left side? I wouldn't have noticed it myself if I didn't know it was there.

There was a little post-it note his handler put on the book with my name on it for ease of signing. When I reached for that as Landau went to sign my Fight the Future lobby card, he indicated he didn't need it, he knew my name. Again, I was giggly fan girl ... "Martin Landau knows my name."

Upon departing, he offered his hand to shake. I told him I thought North by Northwest was a perfect movie. He responded with a gracious thank you and gave my hand an extra squeeze in the process. If ever there was a reason not to wash a hand ever again, that was it.

I got to talk X-Files again with James Remar. And I was on the fence about approaching him, because he's mentioned but not pictured in the comprehensive book. Boy, I was so glad I did.  "The X-Files saved my life," he said plaintively. He perused the book very closely, reading every word about his episode, "Daemonicus." He recalled the title and his character very distinctly.

Remar had spent the summer of 2001 in New York City, riding Ladder Company 3's truck with friend Patrick Brown. He got a phone call from the show days before 9/11 telling him "he must come do this." He signed on, and a couple of days later, the towers fell. Ladder Company 3 lost most of its men, including Brown, in the attack. Remar showed me a cell-phone picture of his hand on his friend's name at the memorial. It really got to Mark and me.

It was quite emotional and might have been overwhelming if we didn't then get into our latest round of what's the right way to take a picture next. Blog readers might remember Tatum O'Neal -- who by chance was positioned at the same table Remar was this particular weekend -- urging Mark to shoot tilted down from above. Then Malcolm McDowell negated that concept, saying eye level was the way to go. Remar agreed with McDowell and Mark. Boys 2, Tatum 1.

I also was on the fence about meeting Eddie Deezen, perhaps best known from Grease, The Polar Express or WarGames, but on my list because of Midnight Madness. I showed him a pic of myself and Sestra cosplaying the movie's Game Control girls at New York Comic Con. As he signed my DVD cover, he said that film was a really fun one.

Funnily enough, Deezen later posted on Facebook that he was surprised that the project most fans talked about him at Chiller was -- Midnight Madness. Surely the Game Control girls would have gone over huge at this event. No one knew who we were at the "other" convention.

I also met Marsha Warfield. I'll just say she was subdued, compared with the others. I was complimentary as I could be, admitting that when I'm feeling overloaded by work sometimes Night Court is my only remedy. My biggest response came when I asked her whether she wanted to "stick her hand in Bull" -- the puppet I brought for the picture. "No way," she said. Besides the picture and Warfield adding her Jane Hancock to my favorite Night Court script, there was one other little thing I wanted to ask of her. Now mind you, this was her first convention and I believe I was her first customer, so she might have been understandably thrown by my request that we act out one of my favorite Night Court lines. But ultimately, she was game.

So with the camera on, "Roz" said, "What's that behind your back?" and I reply (in my best Larroquette "Dan" impresssion, which admittedly isn't a real good one) "New Jersey." And then I quickly quipped, "It really is New Jersey" and got a thumbs-up.

All of that was accomplished during the early-bird hour, so the only thing left was to wait on a couple lines for my Tim Curry photo op. About an hour later, I was sitting next to the Tim Curry! I babbled something about how much I appreciated his work, he replied -- in a voice clearly affected by his stroke but still with that same familiar warm British tone -- that meant a lot to him and offered his hand for a shake.

And then bubblehead that I am, I totally forgot my prepared line. Back when Clue was released, I actually went to different theaters to see the three different endings. They weren't all tacked on like they now can be seen on the DVD, you had to figure out which place was showing which ending. But in place of that, I offered the horrific, "Are you having a good time?" I shudder just thinking of it now. I composed myself, we took the picture, I wished him a fine weekend and off I went, hanging my head in disgrace. But not for long, because when I think back on the Chillers, this will rank as one of my favorites.