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Walk the Dog
By Rick Brown

I dunno. I guess I felt compelled to do it. I mean … it’s 90 friggin’ degrees outside … and I take the dog for a walk. My wife is on a short business trip so…as usual…I felt the need. It’s not like Henri objects. No. At the sound of the word “walk” he perks his ears up … tilts his head as if those floppy, furry things are going to suck the preface “Do you want to take a …” right out of my mouth. That’s what monsieur Henri wishes to hear. I obliged him.

The dog actually walks around holding the middle of his leash out for you to take. He’s into it…big time. I remember a friend telling me that the best thing about having a small dog was that “all you have to do is run him up and down the stairs a few times.” Meaning you didn’t have to take him for a walk. And neither of us does that often. He runs around his backyard enough to salve any guilt.

So I took him on the usual yet not habitual route. It was around 6 in the evening. So people were out walking their dogs. And a lot of folks in the neighborhood have backyards with doggies frolicking. Bark! Bark! Bark! This is the ying and yang. Dogs in yards. Bark! Bark! Bark! Dogs in the street. Sniff! Sniff! Sniff! If you’re lucky that’s how it happens. It’s a little orchestral really, “Man’s Best Friend Overture”.

I only met a couple people on walks with their pooches. First there was a woman with two…she told me they were … um … well they looked to be Schnauzers but maybe terriers. My brain is no better with dog breeds than I am with human names. And that’s pretty bad. The woman says, “Oh can we visit?” I assumed she was speaking about the dogs. Immediately one of her hounds was sniffing Henri’s ears while the other one explored his “nether regions”. Being a male Henri at first looked up at me like, “this is interesting … and perhaps … quite okay.” But soon after I believe the two males … of which Henri was involved … realized the situation and began cautiously snarling at one another. The woman’s male dog continued to bark in a very … very … focused dog kind of way as the French Boy and I soft shoed it out of there. I turned and walked backwards for a few yards watching her try to reason with a pedigree male dog. “Be good, boy! Be GOOD!” I yelled my apologies as I … with beast in tow … sashayed towards home.

The adventure was not over however. Just around the bend in the road appeared an older couple (and by that … now … in the year 2004 … I mean “people about 8 years older than myself”) that had what looked to be an Afghan Hound. They immediately turned their attention to Henri Richard…seemingly recognizing him…calling him Mazzy … Maggie … Mandingo. I dunno … something like that. They thought it was another dog by a name beginning with the letter “m” and were hard to convince otherwise. “In the green house over there lives a dog that could be … what’s his name?”

“Henri” I replied.

“Well you should ring the bell there because these dogs are IDENTICAL!” By this point both their Afghan Hound … they called it by name but all I remember is being relieved the canine’s moniker wasn’t “Taliban” or something similar … and Henri were pulling their leashes in extreme excitement. I figured we had had enough “visiting” and bid the three ado. “He’s so PRECIOUS!!!” the woman exclaimed. “He sure is … really PRECIOUS!!” the old guy yelled over at us.

As I headed in the direction of home with a panting…pulling…crazed Bichon leading the way, I glanced over my shoulder at the older couple (8 years?) … smiled … and said … ”Yeah. He’s precious all right. And it’s a damned good thing!

Rocky Point (Puerto Penasco), Mexico

Amanda Gradisek

For me, one of the most striking things about moving to the Southwest was where you could get from here. When I drive into downtown Tucson, I see highway signs pointing to Los Angeles and El Paso. That’s crazy! In Ohio, the only signs were for Cleveland or Cincinnati, and neither of those are too exciting—they’re still in the same state…. Inspired by these signs, my friends and I realized that one of the best things about being a graduate student is that you can plan spontaneous trips in the summer. My friend and I decided, while studying at a coffee shop the other day, to put off working on our Master’s exams and instead plan a trip to Rocky Point (Puerto Penasco), Mexico, for the next day. Needless to say, we were shortly on our way with two other friends, off on our very first real trip to Mexico.

Freak Show 2004
Shadowbox Cabaret
Easton Towne Center
Columbus, Ohio
* * *

(click above to read the review)

Beer Drinkers and Pig Racers:
ZZ Top at the Orange County Fair
Costa Mesa, CA, August 1, 2004
By Ted Kane

ZZ Top at the Orange County Fair. What can I say? There seem to be several ways to start this review. There's the Fair, there's the Top, there's the complimentary relationship between the concert and the larger event. I need to talk about all of that, so at this point let me just say that ZZ Top is exactly the right kind of band to see at a county fair, their rootsy boogie every bit as authentic and earthy as the livestock and agriculture on display therein.

I grew up in Columbus, where the Ohio State Fair was an annual event that I both looked forward to and took for granted at the same time. You have to admit that there is something special about a place where you can spend the day looking at livestock, riding rides and eating Dumbo ears as a prelude to rocking out after dark with artists like Bob Dylan, Willie Nelson, and Cheap Trick. In fact, though I was too young at the time to remember much about it now, the first concert I ever saw was at the Ohio State Fair when my parents took me to see no less legendary of an act than the Ike and Tina Turner Revue. So when I read the press release announcing ZZ Top's summer tour and saw that they were going to play the Orange County Fair, there was no question that I was going, come Heaven, Hell or Houston.

Blank Sight
John M. Bennett & Jim Leftwich

Food & Drink
Our 25th Garden - Part II
Newport Music Hall
Columbus, OH 7/7/04

By Cory Tressler

Jet rocked the Newport Music Hall. Pure and simple. The four sweaty dudes from Australia (plus one extra keyboard playing freak who was part of their traveling road show) ran through an hour long set that reeked of rock and smelled of confidence. These lads were in top form to say the least. Their set contained pretty much every song off of their debut album, Get Born, on the now defunct Elektra Records. Highlights included a fierce “Rollover DJ” and the MTV hit “Are You Gonna Be My Girl.” What this band lacked in originality they gained in their ability to choose just the right riffs and sounds to rip off. There were points during their performance that I thought, “wow this is awesome that they are playing (insert any Rolling Stones or Faces song title here)!” Even though they played recycled licks, they kicked and screamed with so much energy and vibrancy that it really didn’t matter. The sold out Newport crowd loved every second; besides the one new ballad they played in the middle of their set. For an encore the hard rocking and hard partying Aussies gave the crowd an emotional version of their best song “Move On” and wild interpretation of “Take It or Leave It”, which was so jammed out that it climaxed into a cover of “That’s Alright Mama” by Arthur “Big Boy” Crudup. Although they didn’t break any new musical frontiers with their performance, Jet did put on one helluva rock and roll show.

Eric Clapton
United Center - Chicago, IL - 7/17/04
Opening Act: Robert Randolph & the Family Ba
By Patrick O'Malley

(That’s right Tressler, I’m doing a concert review right in your face and on your turf mother fucker!!)

Couldn’t wait to see this show. In my eyes Clapton is still God, or at least a god. A guitar deity at the least. I’m assuming this will likely be one of Clapton’s last tours, but who knows? Anyway, here are my notes from the show . . .

Show starts promptly on time, Clapton runs a tight ship and it’s obvious throughout the night, evident in a plethora of the show’s aspects. ‘Let It Rain’ is the opener and makes for a perfect start. It’s a long tune with a great jam from Clapton’s solo debut long ago, and they hit stride with it right away riding the cascading piano playing that drives the song. This is followed powerfully by the blues classic, ‘Hoochie Coochie Man’. Good version, not the best. Then comes a surprise, ‘Walk Out In The Rain’, a definite deep cut that stumped most of the nineteen-or-so-thousand in attendance. This was a real highlight of the first half of the show no matter how you slice it, but it was made sweeter somehow by the depth of the cut. It’s funny when watching a living legend how often you find yourself transfixed, unaware of your surroundings or even at times what song you’re in the middle of listening to. The chucking choppy guitar riff gives away the next song’s genre before I can place it as Marley’s ‘I Shot the Sheriff’. Out of where I least expected it comes the most original guitar solo I’ve ever heard Clapton play. Breaking out of his consistently awesome yet familiar blues rhythm and structure to find something unique to the night, Clapton floored me with some wildly creative and original guitar work here.

Watch Out Shell
By David Hochman

I’m confused: age, I surmise, is just a straight-line destination to confusion. And we’re not talking Alzheimer’s here. Neither are we talking about the ponderous questions—the only ones that have any worth—for which there aren’t any answers anyway: why are we here, the meaning of Life, etc. I’m talking about the questions in youth one did have answers for; answers to observable aspects of human existence. Now, gone are the certain days of black and white, replaced by an incessant grey blur. Yet, there’s something reassuring about the blur, about the doubt, the uncertainty. And the older I get, the more confused, reassuringly, I become.

What confuses me? These days, what doesn’t?

Alice Cooper
Celeste Center - The Ohio State Fair
August 10, 2004

* * 1/2
By Rick Brown

I’m not the kind who makes a big deal of the Ohio Sate Fair. I go about every seven years or so…just to see what’s changed and what hasn’t. And if there’s a concert that interests me I’ll be there and walk around for a couple hours to soak up the atmosphere. I have participated in many years of homebrew beer competition however. I’ve even brought home a few green, red…even blue ribbons. And I’m certainly proud of that. So, while not a year in year out devotee I’m no stranger to the fair. I saw the James Gang at the Ohio State Fair way back in 1971 … right after I moved to Columbus. I’ve seen Willie Nelson at the fair also.

In the early 90’s then governor George Voinovich hired a guy named Billy Inman to run what was then touted as America’s biggest state fair. And Billy did a good job of almost killing the event. Later it came to light that fair attendance numbers had been padded…for years…in an attempt to out draw the Texas State Fair. In the process of almost ruining this annual extravaganza, Mr. Inman … with the aid of the Ohio Republican Party … made the fair “family values”. By that, I mean they made a concerted effort to boot “undesirable” influences such as gay pride groups and “radical” political representatives out. In effect, the Ohio State Fair was sanitized. Even Bobo the Clown was shown the door … er I mean … gate. Bobo was a guy with heavy clown make up on who sat in a dunking booth insulting people as they walked by. A lot of folks … mostly macho guys who would never consider stopping at the gay pride booth (unless they wanted act like Bobo )… would get incredibly angry and spend a lot of money trying to get Bobo wet. Occasionally a player would lose his shit and throw the ball right at Bobo’s head …, which was safely behind protective bars. “High and DRY!” Bobo would snarl at the thrower. “Bobo’s HIGH and DRY!!!” Even if Bobo got dunked he didn’t care. The days were usually steamy and the asphalt scorching. People tended to be sleazy and sweaty. Oh the things one could see on a hot August night!!

Alice Cooper would have been a nice fit for the old fair.

Cooper stormed the stage of the giant aluminum shed known as the Celeste Center shortly after 7 p.m. August 10th (That’s right … a rock concert starting pretty much on time and at 7 p.m!) tearing into Hello Hooray, which quickly segued into No More Mr. Nice Guy. Cooper’s band was loud and it was good. Even the woman up front signing for the deaf did her thing with rock and roll panache. During Billion Dollar Babies Alice strutted the stage singing and shaking dollar bills off a fencing sword as if throwing pieces of shish kabob to ravenous guests at a garden party. I was relatively impressed.

Even the newer material from The Eyes of Alice Cooper (his most recent release) … Man of the Year, Between High School and Old School, and What Do You Want From Me? sounded good. These tunes will not be Cooper classics but they were entertaining none the less. But it was here…in the middle of the performance … where the show peaked. A rousing, rocking rendition of I’m Eighteen reminded us al l… especially the men … of what it was like being 18 years old. “I’m eighteen and I don’t know what I want.” The tune skillfully chronicles…in the simplest form…the angst, excitement and wanderlust of youth. The song was breathtaking. I should have left. Things went downhill quickly after this magic moment.

Staging theatrics in a rock show has always been … and remains … a dangerous ploy. Pink Floyd and the Rolling Stones made their shows larger than life with huge props and special effects … most times this works … while Alice Cooper strives to shock on a much smaller scale. Most times this does not. And misogyny is never entertaining as far as I’m concerned. While the band raged on, Mr. Cooper has a fencing match with a young woman. He ends up pretending to slit her throat. There’s fake blood. She is dragged off stage like yesterday’s garbage. Cooper’s own personal cliché (his python) is brought out for old time’s sake. There is an obligatory long … excruciatingly boring drum solo. (I don’t care if the drummer IS from Columbus.) A group of thugs harasses the band during a number. The same woman, this time dressed as a young girl, is also pushed around. Gang rape is more than implied. She is killed. Cooper throws a life-size dummy dressed exactly like the dead girl around during the next tune. Alice comes out in a straight jacket and a “resurrected” dead girl beats on defenseless Alice. But the scene was hardly retribution. Even the heartfelt Only Women Bleed couldn’t salvage the damage of purposefully staged violence against women.

The show ended with a rave up of School’s Out while the band kicked giant balloons into the crowd. An encore included Poison and Under My Wheels. And after all the sexist stuff earlier, Alice Cooper finalizes the show with a campy version of Elected at the end of which two guys in suits…one wearing a George Bush mask, the other John Kerry…cavort on stage like macabre trolls liberated from the underpinnings of a cursed bridge. The Kerry guy tears Bush’s shirt a la Janet Jackson’s “Breastgate” wardrobe malfunction. Then the Bush guy pulls the Kerry guys pants down to his knees. Wow … a vaudevillian rock climax. Really … indubitably … dumb.

Maybe all Alice Cooper’s misogynous theatrics were tolerated in 1975. And people I’ve run into who were at the show either don’t bring it up or sweep it under the carpet of their conscience. It’s wrong … plain and simple. Violence against women … or anyone for that matter … should never … ever … be glorified as rock theater … or television … or movies. A number of Cooper fans were there with their kids … their daughters. And when Alice Cooper introduced the band members at the end the woman whose throat was slit and raped and killed earlier in the show came out. Mr. Cooper introduced her.

She is his daughter.

Perhaps Alice Cooper would have been a better fit with the old, sleazy, sweaty, cheesy Ohio State Fair. Then again maybe … like Bobo the Clown ... Alice Cooper’s day has come … and thankfully … gone.


Freak Show 2004
Shadowbox Cabaret
Easton Towne Center
Columbus, Ohio

* * *
By Rick Brown

There’s a new high tech difference in the Shadowbox experience now. Two large projection screens have been mounted above the bandstand and stage areas while 3 or 4 smaller television monitors have been placed strategically for those in the back and in the balcony. And with this addition I believe Shadowbox Cabaret has taken a giant step towards rock concert…and a giant step away from live theater. Going early to a performance has always been a good idea. You get a better seat. But now the audience is inundated by images…mostly self-promotional in nature…and loud music…for the duration of what used to be a pleasant “get to know your server/performer” experience.

During the opening monologue, David Whitehouse made the comment “For those of you at all interested, the mighty OSU Buckeyes won today by 3 whole points!” Since everyone in the crowd had to be there before the end of “the game” the sarcasm was certainly appreciated by most everyone…including myself. Yet I found the comment more than a little disconcerting. Ironically, with all the relentlessly flashing high tech screens looming large in Shadowbox’s performance space, the place has all the ambiance of a sports bar during the NFL playoffs.

What all this does really is emphasize the music. And house band BillWho? is the star of Freak Show 2004…albeit unintentionally I presume. Stephanie Shull’s Shadowbox “theme song” rocked the house to begin the performance. But do we really need to sing along when the lyrics (shown on aforementioned multi-media screens) include menu items? Still, the band is dynamic and Julie Klein’s reading of the Genesis’ gem “Land of Confusion” was brilliant. Admittedly, the new visuals really can enhance the bands presentation. Unless of course your eyes divert to the guy with the camera who at times is annoyingly close to the musicians. Just as good was Jennifer Hahn’s searing rendition of Audioslave’s “Show Me How to Live”. White Zombie’s “More Human than Human” was killer thanks to badass front man J. T. Walker. And Mary Randle closed the show like only she can do with her torrid take on Deep Purple’s “Space Truckin’”.

But the tunes that were standouts included a BillWho? original titled “Sci Fi Girl”. Sung with nerdiness personified by one superbly gifted J.T Walker and enhanced enormously by the antics of sci fi dancing girls, most notably Megan Overholt whose manically exuberant sci fi girl wanna-be persona was nothing short of show stealing. All of BillWho?’s songs were taken up a notch by the extra visual onslaught. But none compared to the Deftones’ “House of Flies”. With Adam Fauth stuck high in the middle of a spider web…singing amongst a delightfully macabre group of insect dancers (amazingly choreographed by Katy Psencka) the integration of technology and live performance was brutally effective. In past dance portions of Shadowbox shows I always felt a small chasm between the band and the dance. Which to look at? Now I look at BillWho? Now I turn me head and watch the dancers. But with a big screen between the two sides of the stage tying everything together, this was a pleasure indeed. But it worked because it was more rock staging than theater.

Having stated all this I have to comment that after the crowd was initiated with the baptism of video and music to begin the evening, Dave Barry’s monologue Man Bites Dog never stood a chance. Try as he might Matthew Hahn…or anybody for that matter…could not overcome the crowd’s restlessness and lack of attention. The experience was tantamount to Pink Floyd walking onstage to do a simple song using only acoustic guitars immediately after the fireworks faded and the flying pig was sleeping soundly in his pen. The piece stood stark and alone after our eyes and ears had been over-stimulated for an hour or so. And Dave Barry can be hilarious. But more often than not he’s humorous at best. And that’s a big difference in what now might be called a rock venue.

Joshua White’s When Donnatello Danced faired a little better. The tale of three woman who were once each the wife of deceased Donnatello (played by Katy Psenicka, Amy Lay, and Christina Connor) discuss their lives with him literally over his dead body. But while entertaining the sketch was predictable and suffered from the same starkness as the previous Barry monologue.

There are excellent moments in the theater portion of Freak Show 2004. Crowd favorites Cindy and Laverne (Mary Randle and Julie Klein) exude all the freedom and relief parents get watching their kids return to their education in “Back to School” with side splitting hilarity. And the cheesy daytime talk show parody “Who’s Your Daddy” about a paternity argument involving a woman and a wolf man had the audience howling! But it was “Wiz Kids”, the story of a grade school competition in which the class of Miss Hosenfeffer (Mary Randle) performed a disjointed, dysfunctional version of “The Wizard of Oz” that stood above the rest. Ms. Randle orchestrated the chaos onstage with aplomb and an eye on the grand prize trip to Vegas. This troupe excels when playing children, with an exhilaration that will take the crowd’s collective breath away. Amy Lay’s Dorothy, Stephanie Shull’s Glinda, and Megan Overholt’s Witch of the West led the rest of the cast down a rollicking brick road of yellow, culminating in a Broadway/Elton John finale that was uproarious!!

I suppose the change in approach, utilizing giant screens, implies the likely progression Shadowbox Cabaret was bound to take. Especially given their recent involvement in cable television. Yet the danger in such visual dynamics is that many times the live performance is replaced by watching it on television. Have you ever been to a rock concert and after it was over realized you spent more time watching the show on the television monitors than the band onstage? This is the challenge Shadowbox Cabaret has presented itself. Hopefully a balance will be struck. Otherwise you might just want to stay home and watch their cable show “Wired” instead.

Freak Show 2004 runs through November 20th. For more information go to www.shadowboxcabaret.com.

Lucinda Williams
August 18, 2004
PromoWest Pavilion
Columbus, Ohio

* * * *
By Rick Brown

With a threat of rain this show was moved indoors. PromoWest has the option and quite frankly, I really prefer the outside stage as opposed to the “Corporate Cave”. Outside the atmosphere is decidedly more utilitarian. Inside there is the “corporate balcony” and ambiance provided by a plethora of neon signs representing all things Anheuser Busch. This company makes an awful lot of different beers. And I emphasize the word “awful”. Still, my wife Yvonne learned the hard way that drinking red wine is out of the question at a rock venue with rock heads in attendance. Twice she had to make her way to the ladies room to salvage her blouse from permanent stain. The first time I myself bumped into her. The second time…the uglier of the two incidents…it was a woman we both should have realized was the center of the universe. At least that was her demeanor. And as the night progressed we relented to the inevitable and shared a beer named Bud. It doesn’t taste so good…but it doesn’t leave a mark on one’s wardrobe.

After a set by Missouri’s Bottle Rockets that never got beyond pleasant, Lucinda William traipsed onstage with her band. Everyone … especially Ms. Williams … looked tired … as if they had just gotten off their tour bus. This proved a good theory since the Bottle Rockets has finished their act almost an hour and a half earlier. And the first tune “Drunken Angel” from 1998’s Car Wheels on a Gravel Road sounded good…albeit decidedly sluggish. But having realized she was playing in what she called “a rock venue for a rock crowd” both Ms. Williams and her band soon seemed a little more inspired. Later in the concert Lucinda leaned into her microphone and spoke of how good it was to play such a place because all people did in those “pretty little theaters” was sit there and stare. I suppose a singer/songwriter who is closer to honky-tonk than today’s sanitized so-called country music would feel more comfortable in the confines of a rock and roll barn filled with enthusiastic wine spillers.

The vast majority of the material covered this evening came from Williams’ aforementioned Car Wheels… as well as the excellent 2001 release Essence with a couple tunes from last year’s World Without Tears. The show was basically the same as the one I witnessed last year. But that’s not to say Lucinda Williams didn’t deliver the goods. The gritty “Concrete and Barbed Wire” was later superbly counter pointed by the sweet lament of “Still I Long for Your Kiss”…both from Car Wheels… Ms. Williams’ admitted delight with the crowd, caused her to comment about the band playing better because of us. And she and her band obviously were buoyed up with the interaction. She and her cohorts closed the somewhat short, yet satisfying show with the title track from “Essence”, churning the tune into a torrid, smoky Neil Young inspired (she opened for him last summer) jam that rang so true you could feel Williams’ desperation in lines like “PLEASE help me…get fucked up.” Guitarist Doug Pettibone’s playing added a chilling testimony to the song’s urgency.

Returning to the stage seemingly even more invigorated Williams and company presented a charming version of “Sweet Side” that was quickly followed by another Essence gem, “Blue”. Despite the absence of new songs or any element of surprise in Lucinda William’s performance, the passion and genuine quality of this woman’s writing, singing and arranging cannot be denied. She proved on this night that she is as close to rock as she is country. Maybe I should merely call her music an American martini…with a twist of Texas. In the future I can only hope she will play venues that bring out her intensity as it gradually did here. A tour of beer joints might do us all some good.

k. d. lang
Picnic with the Pops
July 10, 2004
Columbus, Ohio

* * * 1/2
By Rick Brown

I always have mixed feeling about seeing someone at Picnic with the Pops. The shows are usually enjoyable enough. But sometimes the atmosphere … and what I mean by that is … what you have to put up with … is sometimes overshadowing of the show itself. Getting into the spirit of the thing isn’t always easy. There is the heat if you get there early to score a closer turf for your blanket. Even if you arrive early the only people who are really going to see anything are the ones in the “corporate table” section. And for some reason every time I go to a show there’s some clown flying an airplane during the performance with advertising on it. This night it was OrthoNeuro … whatever the hell that is … trying it’s best to ruin things. What is it with Columbus anyway? Everything that attracts a crowd of more than 1000 is assumed to be a Buckeye football game? (Before you get all up in arms about my conclusion consider this. Every year, the last Picnic with the Pops features the Ohio State Marching Band. I hardly think they’re presenting “Music Man”.) And did I mention the scores of bored pre-teens wandering around tripping over everyone?

Nonetheless every year some performer attracts me. This year it was k. d. lang. So I did my best to get into the scene. And I made some great discoveries. Like how you should wear running shoes and take them off when you sprawl out on your blanket. Why? Because athletic shoes make a wonderful wine glass holder! And make sure to bring two bottles of wine. It’s a long performance.

Beginning all Picnics is the Columbus Symphony Orchestra. The fact that the symphony included Wedding March from Mendelssohn’s A Midsummer’s Night’s Dream shortly before an openly gay woman took the stage, on the day George W. Bush railed against gay marriage in his weekly radio address, was not lost on a large portion of the crowd. In fact, Ms. Lang herself invited us all to move to her native Canada if he finally won an election.

Looking beyond the airplanes, etc. k.d. lang’s performance … as usual … was a delight. Selections from Ingénue (her most famous recording) included “Miss Chatelaine” and what she described as a “medley of her hit” the powerful ballad “Constant Craving”. Unlike some singers/musicians who perform with the symphony, lang’s vocal prowess and lush arrangements meshed magically with the orchestra. By the end of Roy Orbison’s “Crying” she had a good portion of the audience on the verge of just that. “Don’t Smoke in Bed”, “A Kiss to Build a Dream On”… it was all good.

Lang’s most recent release, hymns of the 49th parallel, a collection of cover tunes from fellow Canadians, was well represented. Neil Young’s “Helpless” was a wonderful reworking of a song that can easily … because of its’ simplicity … become repetitive and slow. And Jane Siberry’s “Walk in Good Company” was wonderful. But it was Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” that highlighted the show. The song’s slow, deliberate buildup to a joyous finale suited Ms. Lang’s incredible strength and range to perfection.

k. d. lang may very well be the voice of her generation. At a show a few years ago with Tony Bennett I sat and watched her hold back, so as not to show up a legend whose voice isn’t quite what it used to be. But on this evening there was no holding back. And the encore of Patsy Cline”s “Three Cigarettes in an Ashtray” was so extraordinary … so awesome…that I almost forgot about that goddamned airplane above us.

Go see k. d. lang. She has no peers. Just make sure you’re in a building with a roof on it.

Our Top 5 Picksby Ted Kaneby John Bennettby Cory Tressler by Patrick O'Malley by David HochmanTravel SectionRecipes and MoreLinks Worth a LookBack Issues

© 2001-2004 NakedSunfish, All Rights Reserved

Issue 1 - January 2002