Every time I think about a concert experience, I can’t help but flash back to the Tift Merritt show I attended with my wife this past April.
Merritt played to a room of no more than 40 people — I feel like I’ve been to dinner parties that seated more — and we were in the front row, literally able to reach out and touch her as she played if we were so inclined.
Barenaked Ladies, the final act of last week’s concert was, based on the crowd’s reaction, clearly the headliner. I would have predicted that Ben Folds Five had just as large and fervent a fan following, but I guess that’s me looking through my own filter.
BNL put on a fabulous show filled with unexpected, spontaneous pleasures. Lots of jokes, lots of improvisation. But I couldn’t help but feel sad that longtime lead singer/songwriter Steven Page is no longer with the band.
The middle act of last week’s concert was the reason my family and I attended in the first place — Ben Folds Five.
I’d seen the group twice before, touring for their second and third albums, and I’d seen Folds perform solo once. I also have many recordings of the band playing live, from a DVD of their excellent Sessions at West 54th performance to both released and bootleg audio files.
So while I’m not exactly the BFF equivalent of a Deadhead, I am pretty familiar with the band’s live show.
Act one in last week’s concert was Guster, a band I’ve very much enjoyed over the years without becoming fanatical. They have a great sound and write very good songs but they sit in a tier somewhere below my favorite artists.
Perhaps because the first act in a three-band show gets the short end of the stick in terms of production values, I was a little underwhelmed with Guster’s show. Their studio albums have a sweetly off-kilter vibe that didn’t quite translate to the stage.
I am writing today’s post under extreme deadline pressure, just 15 minutes before it is scheduled to post. That’s what happens when I leave town for eight days.
This week I saw a great concert featuring Guster, Ben Folds Five and Barenaked Ladies. I’ll expound on it over the course of this week’s posts. But I’m kicking things off with a clip of comedian/singer Boothby Graffoe, who opened the show.
Meet Me In Montauk 