Go see some live music

Originally posted in 2008

Recently I attended the CD release party for Stephanie Corby’s new album, More to Show You. Full disclosure: Steph is a friend and coworker. Anyway, she’s not only a great songwriter, she can rock the house seven days a week — check her out. But her party is just a jumping off point for this post.

A couple of coworkers came along  and midway through the first number, one of them, jaw agape, said “I forgot what live music is like.” She’s near 40, and probably did hear live music in high school or college. I wonder if that’s still true of high school and college kids. No I don’t mean the big arena, staged, choreographed and sometimes lip-synched events that dominate the musical industrial complex (hey, I just made that up. Use it if you like it). I mean real musicians playing live, with all the spontaneous ups and downs that implies. Mostly, how often are people getting their full jones of those magic moments that live music can bring? I know my two kids saw precious few such shows in their school years.

I, on the other hand, spent a lot of my youth seeing music. Recently I harnesssed the Internet to aid my aging memory and reconstruct all of the live music I heard in high school at the Fillmore East and at Central Park’s Wollman Skating Rink, scene of a series of summer concerts hosted by Rheingold or Schaeffer. I heard lots of other music, too, in those years, but even without accouting for the Madison Square Garden extravaganzas, Woodstock, and small local venues with people who never made records, it’s a mindblowing list.

Phil Ochs, Spanky & Our Gang
Wollman 7/67

Moby Grape, Muddy Waters
Wollman 6/68 

Canned Heat, Pentangle, Rhinoceros
Fillmore 2/69

Blood, Sweat and Tears, Carolyn Hester 
Wollman 7/69

Jefferson Airplane, Joe Cocker
Fillmore 8/69

Frank Zappa, Buddy Guy
Wollman 8/69

Santana, Paul Butterfield, Humble Pie
Fillmore 11/69

Jefferson Airplane, Youngbloods
Fillmore 11/69

Ten Years After, Doug Kershaw
Fillmore 2/70

Procol Harum, Rhinoceros, Seals & Crofts
Fillmore 6/70

Laura Nyro, Miles Davis
Fillmore 6/70

Byrds, Van Morrison
Wollman 6/70

Albert King, J. Geils, Allman Brothers
Fillmopre 6/71

 During my last two years of high school, I went to no less than 11 concerts, saw more than 25 different live acts, and spent less than $30 total. Some of the music was humdrum, but I also got a pretty good musical education out of it. I saw Otis Spann play with Muddy Waters, and that started me on a lifetime love of Spann and boogie woogie piano. Muddy, Buddy Guy, Butterfield — these guys started a life-long love of the Chicago blues.  I saw Miles Davis (quite by accident — I went to see Laura Nyro) perform his historic Bitches Brew music, and that was one of two or three experiences that got me to open my ears to jazz, which has also become a life long pursuit.

Mostly I developed a love and hunger for those moments when musicians find each other on stage, or find the right note or chord. Those moments have their own Zen, one that might be described as finding something new, great and surprising. Who doesn’t want to find those kind of things?

I was quite disappointed to hear Arthur Phillips, author of  the recent novel The Song is You, describe his relationship to music on his iPod as “intimate.” Yes, I get the headphones are in your ears. But you’re hearing carefully crafted moments in time, and they are the same as everyone else hears. I love listening to recorded music, but “intimate” overstates it. Can anyone but a person raised primarily on recorded music think that your own iPod playlist is somehow more intimate than watching a skilled musician search in real time for what he or she is trying to say, find it, then share it with you?

Great musicians can rarely be fully caged in a recording. The voice of Patti Labelle in her prime, B.B. King’s guitar, Jefferson Airplane’s onstage interplay — none of these have ever been fully captured on a recording, even live recordings. The greatest recordings in the world are a reduction of the live experience. Often they can improve on the clarity or noise of live venues, but they fail both technically and spiritually to convey the full impact of great music play with greatness.

Most importantly, musicians play and sing to you when you are in front of them. It’s an ancient rite: banging a drum, strumming a string, chanting a prayer or wish. We tap our feet, sway, hum along, like we’ve done for thousands of years. We become immersed, we leave uplifted.

Yes, I know, sometimes there’s a drunk yelling in your ear. The sound system stinks. The musicians are fucked up and stumble through the set. Yes, and it rains in the summer, too, but we all wait all winter for it. 

There are local musicians in your town. Go see them in a small club. Find the venues that bring top flight musicians to auditoriums and clubs, where you don’t need a Jumbotron to watch them. Do whatever it takes, as long as you see music live. Sure, buy the CD for a keepsake, but remember the live version. You won’t regret it. 

PostBlock