Sunday, July 30, 2006
Tom Petty Live!
Touring under the auspices of a 30-year celebration (Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers formed in 1976), Tom Petty hit the Clark County (WA) Ampitheater (20 minutes north of Portland, OR) for a Saturday night show (7/29/06) that, if not sold out was at least heavily attended (upwards of 13,000).
Great show. Hit after hit after hit, with a couple of token contributions from the just-released Highway Companion, Petty's third solo album (following Full Moon Fever and Wildflowers), the first album in four years. Let's run it down again.
Weather: gorgeous and cool. 70s tops. Iced lemonade was a tough sell, beer less so ($9 for premium draft, or a bargain 22oz bomber of Becks or Corona for $10). Arrived at 7, half an hour prior to opener Trey Anastasio, formerly of Phish (spoiler alert: digs to follow).
Early crowd a good mix of redneck, aging hippies (redundant, isn't it?) and that demographic that starts families early. Spontaneous eruptions of "whoooo!!!" echoed. Many had likely pre-partied at the parking lots, a half-mile back (and interspersed with wetlands that would lend themselves to witty wordplay as squatters endured hooting from passersby after the concert let out, rather than the endless lines at restrooms around the ampitheater). Many hunched on the wood-palette styled seating, under blankets, looking tired and glum, as though their enthusiasm for beer and grass and white wine and Jagermeister had early on surpassed the creaky fortitude of their bodies.
Despite the absence of Phish bumperstickers in the parking lot, a strong contingent turned out to support Trey, including one gentlemen who had shaved into his dark wiry hair (cascading down into a mullet) "[something...I never saw him from the left side]-4-TREY." I sat at the back of section 102, front and center and just ahead of the soundboard (or server center...very computerized).
A couple in front of me danced from the opening chords. I could still see all I needed on the big screen; a fellow who arrived 20 minutes later with his date found their steps less amenable. He shouted for their attention (red-faced fellow, probably always seems like he's shouting or angry) then motioned with his hands that they were right in front of him. The dancers shrugged and split apart. The man didn't seem to enjoy what he was seeing even after that.
Endless endless: the inane lyrics, empty threats of sunrises and time's passage and getting together and blah blah (the same complaints I had of the acoustic duo warbling through a set at the Hollywood Farmer's Market this past weekend, and cut from the same cloth). They say the eyes are the windows to the soul (I don't know if that was a Phish lyric, but I know "whatever you do/take care of your shoes" was), however Trey's giveaway face feature: the slackjawed wonking during his guitar work, during the loooong passages between (admittedly bad) clots of lyrics. "You can heal the symptoms/but not affect the cause," one million times.
But enough with all that. Petty came onto stage after that set and a decent break, and launched into a show that bore some marks of -manship...lots of gratuitous thank yous to the crowd for the overwhelming response to super hits. Maybe it wasn't gratuitous...maybe his arms flung wide was simply theatrics for the crowd on the lawn way out in the cheap seats...his "proletariat" base, as described by one critic (who also pointed out that they don't make you feel bad to be a part of the same species, unlike the crowd that gathers at George Thorogood....).
Opened with "Listen to Her Heart" and "You Don't Know How It Feels" with plenty of thanks, and then a great "Don't Back Down" and "Free Fallin'." First track off new album was "Saving Grace," for which no apologies were needed.
Set was very strong, including great performance by an Oregonian, Scott Thurston, who Petty introduced as a Heartbreaker for 17 years, ably covering the Roy Orbison vocals on the Traveling Wilburys number "Handle With Care."
Stevie Nicks was the "surprise" guest, and Petty couldn't hardly get a hand on her as she flounced on and off stage a couple of times. (Let me reiterate the ways how I hate Fleetwood Mac.) So she did a duet and a couple of others, and her lead on "Need to Know" showed she could still nail it. Also a nice Yardbirds tribute, "I'm a Man."
The encore: "You Wreck Me," "Mystic Eyes," (Van Morrison) and "American Girl."
Petty's strength may forever lie with the hits, and I'd make the case that Full Moon Fever remains the fulcrum of his career. The new album was also recorded with Jeff Lynne. If Petty has an album with bigger better hits than "Won't Back Down," "Free Fallin'," "Love Is a Long Road" (I'm paraphrasing titles here) and "Running Down a Dream," I'd like to know. Sure, Damn the Torpedoes is solid, as are most others. And, maybe...just maybe Wildflowers has more accomplished hits in its first five cuts. But then come the remaining 10...the long tail of so-so-ness.
You can feel the momentum coming back around though for Petty. I think he's reached that escape velocity so many of those preceding him did not. He's a star. He still makes good music. His new albums are solid. His concert is great. He keeps himself out of stupid news stories and off of sitcoms. He'll never have the momentousness of Dylan or the swagger of Jagger, but he's today's best link to the spirit at the dawn of rock. Or at least the story as Chuck Berry told it.
Great show. Hit after hit after hit, with a couple of token contributions from the just-released Highway Companion, Petty's third solo album (following Full Moon Fever and Wildflowers), the first album in four years. Let's run it down again.Weather: gorgeous and cool. 70s tops. Iced lemonade was a tough sell, beer less so ($9 for premium draft, or a bargain 22oz bomber of Becks or Corona for $10). Arrived at 7, half an hour prior to opener Trey Anastasio, formerly of Phish (spoiler alert: digs to follow).
Early crowd a good mix of redneck, aging hippies (redundant, isn't it?) and that demographic that starts families early. Spontaneous eruptions of "whoooo!!!" echoed. Many had likely pre-partied at the parking lots, a half-mile back (and interspersed with wetlands that would lend themselves to witty wordplay as squatters endured hooting from passersby after the concert let out, rather than the endless lines at restrooms around the ampitheater). Many hunched on the wood-palette styled seating, under blankets, looking tired and glum, as though their enthusiasm for beer and grass and white wine and Jagermeister had early on surpassed the creaky fortitude of their bodies.
Despite the absence of Phish bumperstickers in the parking lot, a strong contingent turned out to support Trey, including one gentlemen who had shaved into his dark wiry hair (cascading down into a mullet) "[something...I never saw him from the left side]-4-TREY." I sat at the back of section 102, front and center and just ahead of the soundboard (or server center...very computerized).A couple in front of me danced from the opening chords. I could still see all I needed on the big screen; a fellow who arrived 20 minutes later with his date found their steps less amenable. He shouted for their attention (red-faced fellow, probably always seems like he's shouting or angry) then motioned with his hands that they were right in front of him. The dancers shrugged and split apart. The man didn't seem to enjoy what he was seeing even after that.
Endless endless: the inane lyrics, empty threats of sunrises and time's passage and getting together and blah blah (the same complaints I had of the acoustic duo warbling through a set at the Hollywood Farmer's Market this past weekend, and cut from the same cloth). They say the eyes are the windows to the soul (I don't know if that was a Phish lyric, but I know "whatever you do/take care of your shoes" was), however Trey's giveaway face feature: the slackjawed wonking during his guitar work, during the loooong passages between (admittedly bad) clots of lyrics. "You can heal the symptoms/but not affect the cause," one million times.
But enough with all that. Petty came onto stage after that set and a decent break, and launched into a show that bore some marks of -manship...lots of gratuitous thank yous to the crowd for the overwhelming response to super hits. Maybe it wasn't gratuitous...maybe his arms flung wide was simply theatrics for the crowd on the lawn way out in the cheap seats...his "proletariat" base, as described by one critic (who also pointed out that they don't make you feel bad to be a part of the same species, unlike the crowd that gathers at George Thorogood....).
Opened with "Listen to Her Heart" and "You Don't Know How It Feels" with plenty of thanks, and then a great "Don't Back Down" and "Free Fallin'." First track off new album was "Saving Grace," for which no apologies were needed.
Set was very strong, including great performance by an Oregonian, Scott Thurston, who Petty introduced as a Heartbreaker for 17 years, ably covering the Roy Orbison vocals on the Traveling Wilburys number "Handle With Care."
Stevie Nicks was the "surprise" guest, and Petty couldn't hardly get a hand on her as she flounced on and off stage a couple of times. (Let me reiterate the ways how I hate Fleetwood Mac.) So she did a duet and a couple of others, and her lead on "Need to Know" showed she could still nail it. Also a nice Yardbirds tribute, "I'm a Man."
The encore: "You Wreck Me," "Mystic Eyes," (Van Morrison) and "American Girl."
Petty's strength may forever lie with the hits, and I'd make the case that Full Moon Fever remains the fulcrum of his career. The new album was also recorded with Jeff Lynne. If Petty has an album with bigger better hits than "Won't Back Down," "Free Fallin'," "Love Is a Long Road" (I'm paraphrasing titles here) and "Running Down a Dream," I'd like to know. Sure, Damn the Torpedoes is solid, as are most others. And, maybe...just maybe Wildflowers has more accomplished hits in its first five cuts. But then come the remaining 10...the long tail of so-so-ness.
You can feel the momentum coming back around though for Petty. I think he's reached that escape velocity so many of those preceding him did not. He's a star. He still makes good music. His new albums are solid. His concert is great. He keeps himself out of stupid news stories and off of sitcoms. He'll never have the momentousness of Dylan or the swagger of Jagger, but he's today's best link to the spirit at the dawn of rock. Or at least the story as Chuck Berry told it.
