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It would be an easy conclusion to say my music is like therapy, but it’s more the ‘write what you know’ cliché, and unfortunately, this is a lot of what I know. I know other things, too. I’ve lived a charmed life. I’ve led a horrific life. And a lot of times it goes hand in hand.  – Charlie Sexton 2005

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And there I was, believe this was outside the Paramount Theater in Asbury Park, NJ. Bruce doing a special show during The Ghost Of Tom Joad tour.

I think he was also working undercover as a vice cop as well, but that’s never been substantiated. But the facial hair and brown leather coat kinda gives the entire enterprise away.

Adult life is dealing with an enormous amount of questions that don’t have answers. So I let the mystery settle into my music. I don’t deny anything, I don’t advocate anything, I just live with it.- Bruce Springsteen
 

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Greek Theater, Berkeley, CA.

And there I was.

I’d seen Beck three times in the previous few years, but this was an outdoor gig with a chance to que up very close to the stage with the right amount of preparation. My Beck wingman Eric accompanied me and we assumed our slot fairly close to the stage.

The Black Keys came on around 3pm, a bit early, but there was some 7pm curfew in effect. Perhaps because it was a Sunday on a college campus or such? I don’t know, but that was the deal. The Black Keys were not the big deal they are today; no one seemed to know who they were other than they were from Akron and if they were opening for Beck, they must have done something to impress somebody as Beck doesn’t suffer opening bands lightly. They did a more than admirable job.

Beck came on around 4:15 and dove headfirst into his set. At one point a few songs in, he started taking request. Someone called out for ‘Debra’ and he went for it, which was fun.

He also did a cover of Prince’s ‘Erotic City’ which was a surprise as well as Nelly’s ‘Hot In Herre’ which at the time was a current hit on the charts.

When it came time for the encores, Beck returned with the Black Keys in tow and everyone had donned white OSHA jumpsuits. Wacky. But that’s Beck for ya. Here’s a shot from ye old Kodak disposable camera.

Music is a moral law. It gives soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and charm and gaiety to life and to everything. – Plato

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Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band. Continental Airlines Arena. East Rutherford, NJ.

And there I was.

I had tickets to three of the Reunion Tour shows in Oakland later that Fall, but a chance to see Bruce with the E Street Band on our home turf of Jersey was too much to pass up.

Our group convened in the Meadowlands parking lot at 1800 hours and we proceeded to our appointed gate. As usual, I was packing my Kodak disposal camera. Shoved down my pants the better to avoid detection. Once again I made it through.

Our seats were behind the stage. Which sounds sorta crummy, but it’s an interesting vantage point, especially for a seasoned Bruce concert vet like myself. Knowing I’d be seeing him in front of the stage in Oakland I didn’t mind this new view. The seats were actually quite close to the stage and the band does as good as job as any artist to make their way to us from time to time.

As the encores were finishing and the band was making its way down the ramp backstage, I was doing my best to get their attention without looking like a total idiot. But my entreaties were going unnoticed as believe it or not, others near me were trying to do the very same thing. Imagine that?

But…but…all at once Bruce notices me as does Steve and both even point to me. And at that self same time, the entirety of the band came into frame and I snapped the one shot I had left.

Upon developing of the film I was left with this:

Not too shabby for a Kodak disposable with no flash nor zoom. And no photo shopping here folks. Heck, I don’t even know how to photo shop something so there you go. Bruce is bathed in the white lights and seems to be walking on air while Clarence clutches his forearm, forever connected. That’s my left hand you see in the frame.

So that was that and there you go.

The best music is essentially there to provide you something to face the world with. – Bruce Springsteen

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August 5^th, 1977.

The Steve Miller Band. Boston Garden, Boston, MA.

I was still two years away from my first real concert experience. The Summer of ’77 found me in South Yarmouth, MA at Camp Kirkland. Where the Augusts of my youth were usually spent. And not unwisely I might add.

I was already knee deep into music and I recall Steve Miller’s record ‘Book Of Dreams’ in heavy rotation during this time. It turns out that a few of the camp counselors were heading off the Cape into Boston to catch the Steve Miller Band’s show that week. One of them happened to be my brother’s counselor; a certain Mark Dorfman who, for some reason, was known as Cram.

You know how when you’re younger, you think everyone older than you is a lot older. Like for some reason you have no concept of age or time. I was 14 and Cram was probably 16 or 17, but I had him at 21 or older. A full-fledged adult. So Cram offers up that he’s willing to purchase a concert tee shirt for both my brother and I. Which is exciting stuff for a 14 year old. Something the guys back home in Jersey would offer much respect to. Even if I’d not actually attended the concert, it was as close as you could get at that age. So I’m all in on this and withdraw $10 out of the camp canteen and I hand it over to Cram, reminding him to, ‘….get the coolest one you can find and make sure it’s my size…’ Easiest enough instructions to remember, right?

So the night of the gig comes and I think I might have been more excited than the actual counselor concert goers. I was going to get my first official concert tee shirt in less than 24 hours.

The next morning directly after breakfast at the Chuck Wagon I head over to Cram’s bunk to pick up my shirt. He digs into a pile of stuff on his bed and hands me this:

This was all sorts of wrong. First off, it was from Steve Miller’s last record, not the one he was touring behind. And there was nothing special about this shirt that noted that it came from a concert. No tour dates, no nothing. Just a generic decal on front and nothing on the back. I mean, the back is just as important as the front! And it was an XL adult. At that time I was a medium kids at best. The thing was swimming on me. I was crushed. But not as crushed as I was about to be.

Then my brother shows up and Cram goes back into his pile of stuff on his bed and procures this for him:

Now this was a concert tee shirt. The letter and color type on the front. The current tour images right there to ascertain. And the back had all the tour dates, including the Boston stop. Plus, it was the right size.

I mean, I was happy for my brother, but what did I ever do to Cram to deserve this? Could he not simply have procured two tee shirts like he got my brother? I was too young and intimidated to ask all these probing questions so I slinked back to my bunk and threw the shirt into my chest, never to wear it in public.

Mark Dorfman, if you’re listening, you owe me!

I want to fly like an eagle let my spirit carry me. – Steve Miller

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If I had to be a musician/rock star type, I could very well choose to be Chris Isaak. He’s a low key rocker, but he most assuredly rocks. He’s handsome, but not too handsome. He’s not afraid of getting dressed up for the show. Even Mick Jagger at his most fashionably outlandish never wore a suit of mirrors. And Isaak’s funny. He understands it’s a show and he puts on a heck of a one. His lead guitarist is named Hershel Yatovitz. I said his name is Hershel Yatovitz.

I’d seen Chris in NYC before. A few times I believe. But now he was coming to my home state and its common knowledge in ‘the business’ that entertainers save their best for NJ. It’s just common knowledge.

There was this girl that I knew from around the way and I took a chance and asked her if she wanted to be my +1 for the show. She readily agreed. Because chicks can’t say no to Chris Isaak. Which shocked and delighted me in equal measures. But my delight was to be short lived as I received a call just a few days later from said girl and the said girl was saying that though she wanted to, she couldn’t. She couldn’t because her girlfriend wouldn’t let her. Her girlfriend that was her girlfriend. Not wanting to enter into some potential crazed lesbian relationship situation of which I didn’t know previously, I accepted her date resignation.

So I asked another girl from around the way and she agreed. Because chicks can’t say no to Chris Isaak.

Driving up Rt. 18 from the Shore to New Brunswick. Park and find our seats. Good seats. Although, not really a bad seat in the house. It’s that kind of a house.

Chris rocks and he rolls with so much soul. He’ll probably rock till he’s 100 years old. He announces post encores that he’ll be signing autographs and selling cd’s in the lobby.

The other girl from around the way and I make our way towards the exit, but she stops in to use facilities. I await in a far corner of the lobby. Out of a door in my corner of the lobby enters Chris Isaak. Sweaty with a towel around his neck. Still wearing his mirrored pants. He sees me looking at him and asks if I enjoyed the show. I tell him I really enjoyed the show and that he puts on one of the best shows out there. He asks me if his show is the best show I’ve ever seen. I’m not sure if he’s kidding or not. Probably both. I tell him that while it’s certainly one of the best shows I’ve seen, maybe not the best show I’ve seen. He wants to know who’s better. I like his fake/not fake aggressiveness. I tell him that maybe a Springsteen or Dylan show might have been better. He mulls that over and states that he’s ok with being #3 behind those guys. He asks me if I’d like an autograph. I tell him I’m not an autograph man…but…I really dug his shirt. This shirt.

He tells me that someone in his wardrobe made these shirts up for the band. He takes it off and hands it to me. Soaked with Isaak rock and roll sweat. I thank him and say I’ll wear it proudly.

Years later I’d see Isaak somewhat regularly at my local movie theater in SF. And I’d notice his drummer, Kenny Dale Johnson shopping for food at Mollie Stone’s in Larkspur, CA. Just regular rock and rollers watching movies and eating food.

When I play I look out and see people hold onto each other and dance or just couples leaning into each other and kiss. And I’ll go: ‘You know, I could have worked hard at school and been a dentist. But I’m so glad I didn’t.’ Because when I look out and see that, I feel like the Pied Piper of love. – Chris Isaak

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West 47^th St between 8^th and 9^th.

The Supper Club was a New York City venue that hosted many a memorable music show in its day. It’s been closed now for years, but I happened to have walked past it recently and recalled my only concert experience there.

I came to The Replacements too late in the game to catch them live, although I do remember being intrigued by them when they performed on SNL in 1986. I kept up musically with leader Paul Westerberg and made sure to see him at New York’s Irving Plaza in 1996. With guitarist Tommy Keane in tow he played nearly thirty songs.

The next time I caught Paul was in San Francisco in 2002 at a Virgin Records in-store gig. If you’re a Westerberg aficionado, you know what went down there. It wasn’t pretty. Certainly not as inspiring as the Joe Strummer in-store at Amoeba Records. 

So when I learned that Paul was coming to NYC in the Spring of 2005, I was excited to see a full on uninterrupted show. And I was excited as I had recently come into a brand new digital camera. A small one. Small enough to smuggle into a concert venue. Small enough to innocuously take some pics.

The Supper Club is a standing room only venue. I arrived about an hour early and already realized I’d be standing towards the back of the room. Which in the grand scheme of things wasn’t the worse as the sightlines aren’t too bad, but there’s no way I’d get to utilize my new handy dandy small enough to fit in the palm of your hand digital phone. But then I looked up and got an idea. The balcony seemed an inviting area to view the show as it was an excellent vantage point in which to both enjoy the show and snap pics of the show. Of course it’s roped off so I mosey over to the very large man standing guard over the stairs to said balcony. I asked him what the chances of him allowing me up there. He told me I should go get a drink and then return and ask him again. Which I took to mean that I should get myself a drink and then return to him with some sort of monetary tribute. Which seemed fair to me. But how much? I didn’t want to offend him with a low ball offer, but then again, I wasn’t prepared to go overboard. I figured that $20 would do it. So I returned to the very large man and pressed the $20 bill into his palm and as if by magic, the rope gets pulled back and I’m told to head upstairs.

So I’m feeling pretty good. And I find an excellent viewing area and I even find a random ottoman to sit on. This is working out better than I could have imagined. Paul and his band come out and go through a number of his solo work as well as play some requests called out from the crowd for Replacments songs. They even played ‘If I Had A Hammer’ and a Sham 69 song if my memory serves me correctly.

It was somewhat towards the end of the show that I felt bold enough to fire up ye olde digital camera to capture some memories. I take some pics and they’re looking kinda good. And I’m feeling kinda good. Until I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around and it’s the very large man I’d given the $20 to. He’s shaking his head in the international sign of ‘no’. I took that as him telling me to stop taking pictures. I give him the international sign of ‘I’m sorry and will cease and desist from any more picture taking activity’. I’m thinking that’s that. But that wasn’t that. The very large man continues to tap me on the shoulder. He gives me the international sign that he wants more money or else he’s going to either take my digital camera or usher me out of the venue; or both. So I dig deep into my pocket and come up with $3. I mean, I’d just given him $20 and now he’s shaking me down for more? He was going to have to settle for $3 or I wasn’t sure what would happen.

Thankfully the very large man went away. $23 richer on the night.

During the encores, the band all swap instruments on ‘Can’t Hardly Wait’ and that was that.

I suppose growing up Catholic, it did affect my songwriting… because it affected my life. It affects my way of thinking and everything. I mean, I’m still a religious person. I believe in God, although I never sit down to write “God” songs. I have my belief, and my faith, and I keep it private. But I try to live right and treat people fairly, so I suppose that comes through in the music.

–Paul Westerberg 1996

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