Just ’Cause You Feel It Doesn’t Mean It’s There

Radiohead
06 June 2012: Blossom Music Center, Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio

Tracy is definitely a bigger Radiohead fan than me. I enjoy their music and Thom Yorke’s solo album well enough, but it doesn’t necessarily move me in the same earth-shaking sense it seems to affect others. I’m also fully aware of how a live performance can alter my perception of an artist and their music, so I’m usually game for concerts of artists I might not be 100% in love with. That was the scenario going into Radiohead’s Northeast Ohio King of Limbs tour stop, and for a group I’m not super into, it was a good show.

Despite not actually recognizing the songs they were playing and only understanding snippets of lyrics, I really dug the wall of sound. They played three sets – a 16-song main set and two encores. The four-song first encore consisting of “House of Cards”, “Myxomatosis”, Supercollider”, and “Reckoner” was by far my favorite set of the night.

The other standout song was the main set’s rendition of “There There” with its “just ’cause you feel it doesn’t mean it’s there” refrain. Already augmented by two full drum kits, for this song everyone in the band was working percussion to accompany Yorke’s guitar.

I didn’t really care for the second encore or the final song of the night (“Paranoid Android”), but loved the accompanying light and video show throughout the night. Along with a large continuous screen near the amphitheater ceiling at the front of the stage, there was a giant light panel at the back of the stage, and a dozen high-quality video panels suspended above.

These panels changed position throughout the show, song by song, displaying everything from band member close-ups to more artistic shots of microphones or Yorke’s trainers. At one point near the beginning of the show, the panels all moved into place to form a sort of mock ceiling over the band, almost looking like they were playing in a room. At other times they were all akimbo with electronic psychedelic designs. The panel’s lighting and imagery was probably my favorite aspect of the show.

A Radiohead tour is a big deal among both rock critics and the fervent fan base. Their shows are hyped as being mind-blowing events, but I guess you have to be a super fan to get that sort of experience out of their concerts.

When I listen to Radiohead’s recorded output, it often reminds me of Pink Floyd in its scope and sound, yet somehow always seems to fade into the background. Live, the band seemed energetic, passionate, and to be having a great time connecting with their fans. It made for a good time and a great night out with my wife, even if the earth didn’t move for me musically.

(All photos by Tracy Besenyodi.)

Fine Time

New Order, with Public Image Ltd. and The Sugarcubes
05 July 1989: Blossom Music Center, Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio

My senior year of high school we had a foreign exchange student from Germany. I was pretty smitten with her, even asking her out a few times, but she shut me down quickly (and repeatedly). As the school year wore on, I met and fell hard for another girl who would set me on the path that helped shape me into the person I am today, leaving indelible fingerprints all over my creative outlets and musical tastes. Something was in the air our senior year, because my best friend John had also found love, falling harder than I’d ever seen him fall before – for our German exchange student, Julie.

Somewhere between Monsters of Rock and Lollapalooza, in the music festival no-man’s land that was the summer of 1989, New Order toured with Public Image Ltd. and the Sugarcubes. Firmly in my wheelhouse (both then and now, I have to admit), this was the must-attend show of the year. But by that summer before college, my girlfriend had moved on – figuratively and literally – dumping me and heading to San Francisco. So not only did I have to borrow the $15 from John in order to buy my ticket, I was third wheeling it to the show with him and Julie.

I only saw three shows at Blossom before moving to Florida in August of 1990. The New Order/PiL/Sugarcubes show was bookended by the Beach Boys with Roy Orbison and John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown Band (of Eddie and the Cruisers fame) in the summer of 1988, and Jimmy Buffett in the summer of 1990. Being relatively broke high school and college students during that era, it was exclusively lawn seating for me and my friends. I remember wandering the grounds and getting into all kinds of trouble during the Beach Boys show, and I remember very little about the Jimmy Buffett show (read into that what you will).

For the New Order concert, my memory puts John, Julie, and me right in the center of the lawn with a view straight into the pavilion and stage. I remember being pretty well anchored to our staked out plot of lawn for the duration of the show – even for the Sugarcubes’ set, despite never having been a huge fan of theirs.

The PiL performance was by far the most dynamic of the day. Johnny Lydon is nothing if not an entertainer. They were supporting 9, their most commercial album and one I thoroughly enjoy. The headliners were touring behind Technique, an album I have on vinyl, cassette, and CD. Publicly, New Order played to type by remaining completely impassive behind their instruments. Privately, the band was falling apart. This show took place about a month after Bernard Sumner announced to his bandmates that he no longer wanted to continue as New Order and was forming another band with Smiths’ guitarist Johnny Marr.

I’ve heard recordings of New Order’s set from this night, and the music itself was fairly solid, but lyrics were mangled or forgotten throughout the set (making one wonder if it was internal band strife or *ahem* recreational activities that resulted in the lyrical casualties). It was a visually sterile show, more impressive for getting to hear this music I love played at incredibly loud decibels than for any sort of stage presence by the performers.

More remarkable than anything else about the night, though, is the fact that virtually everyone from my future close college circle of friends and lovers attended that show, and then some. Some combination (or maybe all) of the people John and I would find our freshman year at Bowling Green just a few months later were there.

The alternative music culture of the late ’80s was an amplified version of the feeling I had of gaining entré into an exclusive club after wearing my first concert t-shirt (David Lee Roth) to school the day after the show. Musical tastes were visible in the costumes we wore day-in and day-out: dyed black hair, black eyeliner, thrift store chic. We might have found each other anyway, but because she was wearing a black PiL concert t-shirt I was prompted to strike up a conversation with Erin at college orientation a month or so after the show. I’m pretty sure Jeff was at that concert, and maybe Jen was, too.

Just as extraordinary, and like so many other shows in our shared history (David Bowie at the Richfield Coliseum springs immediately to mind), Tracy was in the house this same night. Although I wouldn’t meet her for another six-and-a-half years, while I was on the lawn, my future wife was in the mosh pit down front getting gobbed on by Johnny Lydon himself.

PiL is rumored to release a vinyl EP and full length album of new material this year, and a partial reunion of New Order has been teasing live shows overseas since late last year. The frenzy around the latter should only increase with their scheduled performance at the closing ceremonies of the 2012 London Olympics. I’m not sure if I’d go to see New Order or PiL, though, if they ended up touring the U.S. (I didn’t go out of my way to see a reconstituted PiL a couple of years ago when the closest they came to Northeast Ohio was a 2010 show in Pittsburgh.) I just have too much history mixed up in these groups, and it’s probably best if I just leave those memories unaltered.

Concert Regrets

One of the things about learning to brew your own beer from somebody is you better get along with them because that first session takes hours! Thankfully, my first brewing session meant I was able to hang out with my buddy Jeff. Killing time in his garage on a brisk Saturday afternoon in early October, sitting around the kettle as my winter spiced ale brewed, the conversation wandered at that nice, familiar pace that only comes from having been friends for over 20 years. Of course, considering our history, music was a big topic of the day, including concert regrets. I have two concert regrets – not shows I wish I’d never seen, but shows I missed.

My Number One with a Bullet is Roger Waters’ Radio K.A.O.S. tour stop at Blossom Music Center in August of 1987.

It was the summer before my seventeenth birthday, and I was working a couple of jobs, including mowing the lawn at the local community park and busing tables at a crappy restaurant. Up to that point in time, I had only attended two concerts – David Lee Roth the previous fall, and Mötley Crüe earlier in the summer of ’87. I seem to remember it being a combination of my own money management issues and my parents not being all that comfortable with my concert going activities yet as the main reasons I was unable to attend the show. I’m sure the normal teenage notions of independence and arguing with my parents about “freedom” and “space” came into play, too.

I don’t remember who I was even going to go to the show with, but I knew even then that this was a show I really needed to see. And, by all accounts, it was a spectacle. Radio K.A.O.S. wasn’t a huge hit, but it was and still is one of my favorite albums. (I did an in-depth piece on it back when I wrote for PopMatters. You can check that out here.) Waters took DJ Jim Ladd on tour with him, and the show was staged as a giant radio show, complete with phone booths set up around the venue for audience members to “call in” and ask questions. Of course, it was never filmed and the likes of it will never be seen again, but, man, I think it would have been amazing.

Of course, a month or so after the Roger Waters show, I did see Boston at the Richfield Coliseum. I’m sure my parents’ fears and my money woes were cast aside because I saw the concert with my older sister, my health teacher (who my sister was dating at the time), and my best buddy Mark. I wouldn’t attend my first concert at Blossom until a year later when I saw The Beach Boys, Roy Orbison, and John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown Band on a triple bill the next summer. And, for what it’s worth, I did see Pink Floyd on their Momentary Lapse of Reason tour in the fall of ’88, so I guess that’s something.

My other concert regret is a little different and much more recent, so the wound is still fresh. Jack has been taking private drum lessons for just over a year now, and he just started up with fifth grade band this school year. He loves percussion, and I’m always eager to share anything I think he’ll appreciate – like The Black Keys, The Who, and Rush.

So when I saw Rush was touring to celebrate the 30th anniversary of the release of Moving Pictures, I knew I was going to take Jack. I was able to get in on the presale and get us some amazing seats in the lower bowl, stage right, near the stage. I was ridiculously excited. Then, after purchasing the tickets, I realized that there was a good chance we were actually going to be in Hawaii the day of the show.

This was a trip Tracy was trying to earn through work, and you don’t turn down free airfare, five-star hotel accommodations, and all food and entertainment included. I get that, and I was not then, nor am I now, ungrateful for the opportunity to return to the islands and enjoy a fantastic family vacation. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that there is a tiny little part of me that is still disappointed that Jack and I didn’t get to share that concert-going experience.

I have seen Rush numerous times throughout the ’80s and ’90s, but this was different. The band was playing Moving Pictures in its entirety, I was taking my kiddo with me, we had killer seats from the pre-sale, and the band was taping the show for release on DVD and Blu-Ray. I have never, to my knowledge, attended a show that has been officially released like that, and even though we weren’t at the show, you damn well better believe that Blu-Ray is on my Christmas list this year!

Who We Used To Be

Nine Inch Nails
27 June 2006: Blossom Music Center, Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio

Nine Inch Nails’ Trent Reznor is a folk hero in these parts. A musician friend of mine once observed, “Everybody in Northeast Ohio has a Trent story.” And she’s right. My wife has hers (tales of Trent dating her best friend and of watching Trent play in his garage), I have mine (memories of Trent frequenting the record shop I worked at, bringing in and playing demos of what would become Pretty Hate Machine) and our friends have theirs. Even now, over 20 years after he arrived in Cleveland, Reznor’s impact on the local music landscape is as legendary as the way he changed the face of industrial music on a global scale. Given all that history, when he plays here, the shows seem to be about more than just the music.

I have seen Nine Inch Nails in concert more times than I can count, and all of them at assorted hole-in-the-wall Cleveland bars and venues in support of Pretty Hate Machine in the late ’80s and early ’90s. The debut album was a perfect storm: The fury and passion behind the lyrics mixed with a completely different sound that bled into my world; I found it at a time when I was also discovering new sides of myself. The album came along at just the right time to be the single most influential collection of songs in my life before or since. For that reason, I originally approached Reznor’s homecoming show with reservation. But at the urging of my wife, and the opportunity to see Goth godfathers Bauhaus, I was persuaded.

And when Bauhaus strolled on stage amid fog machines and white light for their hour-long set, I knew I had made the right decision. It was strange to see the founders of the Goth movement playing while the sun was still up. The rains and humidity had created real fog just off to the left of the amphitheater stage, carrying the theatrics into the crowd of Goth girls in black prom dresses and punks who weren’t around when Bauhaus originally formed. We were close enough to the stage to see the band well, but far enough away to preserve my original images of the group in their heyday.

Songs like “Double Dare”, “In the Flat Field”, “Rosegarden Funeral of Sores”, and the one-two closers “Stigmata Martyr” and “Dark Entries” all sounded as fresh as they do on 1982’s live effort, Press the Eject and Give Me the Tape. Thoughts of an album of new material danced through the heads of the faithful as the new tunes, “Adrenaline” and “Endless Summer of the Damned”, were unveiled -- although the latter was slight on substance and long on cliché (as evidenced by the title), even for these guys.

The sibling rhythm section of Kevin Haskins and David J carried the show, and you could feel the muscular beats pulsing in your chest. Peter Murphy’s singing was spot on, and he sounded every bit the English gentleman, even as he bitched out the lighting people from the stage – pointing out the differences between left and right and telling them not to fuck it up again. Daniel Ash, sporting a white shag carpet vest and oversized bug-eye sunglasses, was the consummate glam rock guitarist. And his on-stage shtick was the same as it was 25 years ago – stalking the stage, playing guitar on his knees, and punctuating songs with his saxophone skronk.

During Bauhaus’ set, the rains stopped and the temperature dropped. Blossom’s lawn took on mudslide qualities and visions of Reznor’s infamous Woodstock appearance were replaying in my mind. Although the mosh pit in front of the stage was complemented nicely by a mud pit at the base of the sloping lawn, a recreation of the literal mud-slinging of that ’94 incident never materialized here. Shortly after sunset, the house lights dimmed, and the deafening roar of the crowd was supplanted by the slow build of “Somewhat Damaged” – the first of five songs off of 1999’s The Fragile. (The song selection was the most curious aspect of the show. Apart from the new song, “Non Entity”, the band only played three songs off of the support album, With Teeth, and three off of the critical and popular darling, The Downward Spiral. Four songs each were played off of Pretty Hate Machine and the stop-gap Broken EP.)

Hearing songs that I had never previously experienced live was a treat. The folding cage of lights that was lowered and raised throughout the show was partially down during “Closer” – where the center section slowly “filled” with red Matrix-style dashes and blips of light, but it was the funky workout of Broken’s “Suck” towards the end of the set that really stood out. The touring band, which includes Jordie White (formerly Twiggy Ramirez of Marilyn Manson’s band) and Josh Freese (who has played with Akron’s Devo), allowed the song to retain its aggressive nature while stretching and breathing in a groove.

While “Hurt” was an expected showstopper, it exceeded expectations. Reznor was exposed, alone on keyboards, and it was as intimate as any of the 100-listener shows I saw him perform over two decades ago. Something about the ringing piano and Reznor’s melodies never seem quite right, they always seem broken – musically, emotionally. Although the song isn’t a sing-along, per se, the crowd made it one in the most reverential of ways and as the band came in at the end for a beautiful slow burn, there was nothing left but passion.

Of the new songs, “Only” could be the next “Down In It”. From its emphasis on synthesizers to Reznor’s more-rapping-than-singing approach to the “tiniest little dot” lyrical reference, the song is a throwback to the Pretty Hate Machine material.

Things got arena-rock clichéd, though, during the chorus, when too-clever lighting took the focus off the band and put it on the crowd during “There is no you” and reversed the effect during the “There is only me” lines. The clap-along to “The Hand that Feeds” also treaded the cliché, but that is today’s Nine Inch Nails – including a Reznor who has transformed himself from skinny kid into Henry Rollins’ little brother, complete with ’roid-y muscles, sleeveless shirts, and a buzz cut.

Although I understand what Reznor has done with his music (and image, for that matter), I have had a love/hate relationship with him since the early days, when he wrote the soundtrack for my life and then turned around and marketed it to frat boys. And “The Hand that Feeds” almost seems like an acknowledgement, an apology for it – “What if the whole crusade’s a charade / And behind it all there’s a price to be paid... Just how deep do you believe? / Will you bite the hand that feeds?... Are you brave enough to see it? / Do you want to change it?” – wrapped in a neat industrial-pop package, of course.

This night, it was the Pretty Hate Machine cuts that were the most amazing. I had forgotten how powerful these songs are when played live. The synths of “Something I Can Never Have” were mixed behind the chest-rumbling bass and stripped-bare vocals, complete with a cough by Reznor that made it all the more real. Synths poked through the guitars’ wall of sound like glass stabbing at skin on “Down In It”, and the party spun out of control during the set closing “Head Like a Hole”. Ferocious, angry, exhilarating. Hands and voices were raised as one: “Bow down before the one you serve!” The crowd noise was deafening as the house lights came up, the cage lowered, and the “NIN” logo was flashed in lights on it. No need for an encore.

Regardless of the mixed up nostalgia and confusion that accompanies growing older and watching your heroes do the same, everything about this show felt right. And between songs, Reznor summed it all up perfectly when he told the crowd, “It’s good to be home. All grown up.”

(Edited versions of this piece have been published by PopMatters and Field’s Edge.)

Setting Sail

Disney Live in Concert – Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl, with the Blossom Festival Orchestra and Chorus (Conducted by Richard Kaufman)
16 July 2011: Blossom Music Center, Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio

Summer in Ohio. If you can stand the humidity, it can be pretty amazing. Bike rides, hiking, lightening bugs, farmers markets, and outdoor concerts. Nestled in the Cuyahoga Valley National Park, Blossom Music Center has been around since 1968 and the summer home of the Cleveland Orchestra for all those years. Although I was originally exposed to Blossom through contemporary music acts, in the years since returning to Northeast Ohio, we have enjoyed the orchestra in their summer home on numerous occasions, like seeing and hearing them score Looney Tunes on the big screens and attending Star Wars in Concert. And this past Saturday night, the orchestra provided the full underscore to a screening of Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl.

Say what you will about the sequels (because, boy, are they hard to watch), the original Pirates of the Caribbean movie is clever and funny and intense and full of action! We were very excited to have a family night out to experience one of our favorite movies at one of our favorite venues in such a unique way.

When you attend a rock concert at Blossom, you aren't allowed to bring anything into the amphitheater and are searched and bags are inspected and the whole nine. When you attend a Cleveland Orchestra Blossom Festival event you are encouraged to bring your own food and drink (yes, alcohol, too), come early to picnic, and are never searched and no bags are ever checked. Oh, and kids under 18 are FREE. So, we had a light early dinner, and packed up some cheese and crackers, grapes and plums, some bottled water, a couple bottles of Longboard, mixed drinks, some folding chairs, blankets, and a Frisbee, and headed out to Blossom around 7 for the 9pm show.

Divided between pavilion and lawn, Tracy and I generally prefer pavilion for rock concerts and lawn for orchestra shows. It's nice to spread out with your blankets and lawn chairs and coolers and enjoy a night under the stars. The lawn was moderately full at 7:30, and was jam-packed by 9, but we had a sweet spot where we could see one of the jumbo screens and the orchestra doing its thing on stage. The kiddo and I killed time between our arrival and show starting by heading over to the north lawn to toss the Frisbee around among the other attendees with their footballs and baseballs and volleyballs and such.

By the time we made our way back to Tracy and our spot on the lawn, the late-day humidity was pretty thick (especially after chasing a Frisbee around for half an hour!), but nothing a beer for me and bottle of water for the kiddo couldn't cure.

Just as Mother Nature provided her own dramatic “dimming of the house lights,” we broke out our glow sticks, and the show began right on time. The mosquitoes never bothered us, although there was a nip in the air after the sun went down. It was a damp chill that must’ve had as much to do with the humidity as the temperature, but we had blankets and each other to help stay comfortable.

The orchestra was amazing, as always. Tracy and I ended up commenting throughout the entire weekend how amazing it is to realize the music was being played right there in front of us while we watched one of our favorite movies! With the intermission, the movie didn’t wrap up until nearly midnight, but the late night was absolutely worth any exhaustion we felt Sunday. The score for the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie is so iconic and recognizable; it was a natural fit for an exercise like this, and a perfect way to spend a summer Saturday night in Northeast Ohio.

(All photos by Adam and Tracy Besenyodi.)

Rise

I saw Public Image Ltd back in 1989 at Blossom Music Center when they toured with New Order and The Sugarcubes. Twenty years on and that show still holds a special place in my heart. I went to that show with John (in fact, I think I might still owe him money for the ticket), but virtually everyone from my future close college circle of friends and lovers attended that show, and then some.

I wouldn’t meet her for another six-and-a-half years, but my wife was there. While I was on the lawn, Tracy was in the mosh pit down front getting gobbed on by Johnny Lydon himself.

Some combination (or maybe all of) the people John and I would consider our closest circle of freshman year friends at Bowling Green just a few months later were there. I saw Erin wearing a PiL shirt during orientation, which prompted me to go up and talk to her. I’m pretty sure Jeff was at that show, and maybe Jennifer, too.

Marking the 30th anniversary of the landmark Metal Box, Lydon has reformed PiL, and I’ve been keeping tabs on the reissue and reunion news by way of Slicing Up Eyeballs. I doubt I’ll ever see Lydon or PiL live in Northeast Ohio again, but this pulsating seven-and-a-half minute live version of “Rise” from their first show in 17 years is enough to bring a nostalgic smile to my face.

I could be wrong. I could be right.

Jesus Christ in a Crushed Velvet Jacket

Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers
22 June 2008: Blossom Music Center, Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio

When I was in sixth grade, you could get school folders that had album cover art on them. Slick glossy things die-cut as if an LP were coming out the top of a record sleeve. I had a handful of them, but the two I remember most clearly are Rush's Signals and Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers' Long After Dark. I don't know that I was completely aware of who either of those bands were necessarily. I knew and liked their music and all, but I was only 12. I came to really love both of those bands to varying degrees as time passed and my musical tastes continued to evolve. I have seen Rush multiple times over the years, but until this week, I had never seen Tom Petty in concert. So now my wife and I can add him to the list of icon artists we have seen live, putting his name alongside folks like Prince, The Police, and U2.

Steve Winwood warmed up the crowd for Petty, and I don't know that I've ever seen the pavilion so packed for the opening act before. Maybe it had something to do with the weather, but I'd like to think it had more to do with the fact that it was Steve Winwood doing the performing. He played a great set. Where most opening acts seem to be relegated to 45 minutes, Winwood played for just over an hour and hit all the right high points: songs like "Higher Love" for my wife and the Spencer Davis Group hit he co-wrote, "Gimme Some Lovin'", closed the set. But for me, it was hearing one of my all-time favorite songs performed live: "Can't Find My Way Home", written by Winwood during the short life of the supergroup Blind Faith, that satisfied my fix.

Torrential rains plagued us at Blossom once again, just as they did two years ago. But, like then, we had pavilion seats and were spared the soaked-to-the-bone experience of the poncho-coated throngs huddled on wet blankets up on the hill. And when Tom Petty took the stage decked out in violet crushed velvet jacket with his gray-on-blonde full beard and long straight hair, he looked like Jesus Christ presiding over the coolest tent revival ever.

Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers are cashing in on their stellar Super Bowl halftime show with this tour, and we were happy to oblige them. Much like The Police's reunion tour last year, this was essentially a greatest hits trip through the back catalog. The undiscovered gem on the setlist was an Echo B-side called "Sweet William". This garage rock blues stomper beautifully illustrated the strength of the band and just why the core of the group has backed everyone through the years, from Dylan on his True Confessions Tour to Johnny Cash on the Grammy-winning American II album, Unchained.

After treating the crowd to the Traveling Wilbury's "End of the Line" and the Full Moon Fever deep-cut, "A Face in the Crowd", the last half of the main set unspooled a half-dozen killer songs from Petty's catalog. "Learning to Fly" was slowed to a near-acoustic crawl, taking it to a simultaneously darker yet communal place where the crowd was able to carry the vocals for extended periods. Retaining its psychedelic edge, "Don't Come Around Here No More" lived up to expectations as my favorite Tom Petty song. And the main set-closing "Refugee" bristled with all the fire this Damn the Torpedoes nugget did when originally released almost 30 years ago. The encore of "Runnin' Down a Dream" began a perfect nightcap, followed by Petty's extended storytelling riff in the middle of "Gloria" and the raw energy of 1977's "American Girl". This tour may have been a cash-grab, but it was well-deserved, and I can hardly fault him given the quality of the show.

Tom Petty's fan base defies genre or categorization. I knew his music in middle school when I was listening to rock and pop on WMMS, when I was in early high school and listening to hard rock and hair bands and metal, and when I was in late high school and college and listening to alternative and new wave. Petty's music was always there. Always applicable. Always accepted. And the music remains viable even today, and I'll proudly stand and testify.

"Oh, yeah. Alright. Take it easy, baby. Make it last all night..."

(All photos by Adam and Tracy Besenyodi.)