Review of Dukes of September Rhythm Revue,
November 1st, 2012, at The National Convention Hall, at The Hotel Pacifico, Yokohama.
Line up: Jon Herington: guitar / Freddie Washington: bass / Michael White: drums / Michael Leonhart: trumpet / Walt Weiskopf: tenor sax / Jay Collins: tenor and baritone sax / Jim Beard: keyboard / Carolyn Leonhart and Catherine Russell: backing vocals. Plus three old guys.
Time: started at 7.05 finished about 9.15 pm.
Time: started at 7.05 finished about 9.15 pm.
Report on the evening's proceedings
It's 6.30, with curtain up in half an hour. In the foyer, the ticket-holders mill about, creating a buzz of pre-concert excitement, availing themselves of wine or beer, and visiting the goods stand or the other one selling CDs. We visited both, snagging a Dukes of September-emblazoned towel for Da Brudder, and two copies of the only CD the Dukes, as Dukes, ever put out, The New York Rock & Soul Revue- Live at the Beacon. (1991,
when, apparently, Donald was looking to break his song-writer’s block –after The Nightfly– and so he
asked his friends to do a gig.)
when, apparently, Donald was looking to break his song-writer’s block –after The Nightfly– and so he
asked his friends to do a gig.)
I’m amazed, never knew it existed or that they went back so far. Well, Michael did a fair amount of work with the Dan, but Boz? (Fast-forwarding a bit, I can report that the CD is a beaut.) We notice that the average age of the gathering fans is in the 50-60 range, which is a bit sobering, but I've donned my leather jacket, boots and hat, just to make it clear I'm going to a soul concert, not a meeting of the Dick and Jane 50s reunion club. The wife and I have our drinks and breathe in the atmosphere, the atmosphere of people who grew up loving the sounds these guys gave to the world.
So, how to start the ball rolling? Open the stage with the three major dudes there, large as life, or have them make a dramatic entry after a bit? You got it, open with the cool backing band playing cool intro music (which I later discovered is from James Brown), and, then, after the audience has had quite enough of that and are thinking about, at least, scuffling their feet on the beautiful carpet (let's face it, this 'Pacifico Hotel' is pretty fancy), on walk the main guys. And to great applause. I can't believe I'm seeing Donald Fagen (being a huge Dan fan since early teens).
The opening piece was a big surprise: Who'sthat lady? by The Isley Bros. I was thoroughly impressed, because I had always loved that band, that song, and the album it came from, 3+3. It was, therefore, wonderful and surprising to hear. I loved it. The guitarist went into the solo territory, but truncated it as this was just the opening call to the audience.
After that it's all a blur. Well, not quite, but I was soon brought to the realization that my knowledge of the songs by these three individuals is patchy, even in regard to solo Donald Fagen, who introduced Michael McDonald by
using the term 'White Lightning'. This was no doubt a reference to his hair, which though still abundant, is shockingly white. Talking of white, I had a little slip of whitepaper on which I attempted to jot down minimal notes at best of each song. To wit, writing in the dark ain't my forte, so forgive the lack of precision on occasion. Anyway, after Michael, Donald took centre stage (which wasn't difficult because that’s where his grand piano was parked), and did a number I didn't recognize.I later discovered it was Marvyn Gaye’s Trouble Man. He sang and played it in a very bluesy, soulful way. Of note, he actually took to his feet a few times and wandered around, blowing into his handheld melodica, something like the instrument that kids learn at school, small and portable and cute. And somehow the sound was very audible and it was so affecting, because it sounded so homely and simple and convincing, as though here we have this amazing artist, and yet here he is going back to basics and the simplest instrument in his arsenal, and yet he is making it sing. He sometimes then held it near the back of his head as he sang, and I loved the song. It was so jazzy, and yet with a wonderful blues edge to it, and his singing was attacking and hard and with it, if we can say that phrase anymore...
Then it was up to Boz Scaggs to complete the intro of the stars of the night. Donald intro'd him as the 'Bluesman', and there he was, on the right of the stage, wielding a deep red Fender Strat, and, importantly, framed by two luscious black & white beauties behind on an elevated stage (the backing singers). From where we sat, then, every time we saw Boz, he was at the centre of this perfect tableau, his right knee often slight out, his shoulders well back, like a dude enjoying himself immensely, which is what he was. Again it was a song I couldn't place, so if you want, you can turn off the set right now, but I do remember it had a line about tight dresses, which got a reaction from the crowd. Then, he launched into a bluesy solo and I was fascinated to see what he would do, not being too aware of his guitar skills until I saw him actually holding one. I had always imagined him simply as a singer. I have never seen him holding a guitar before. First impressions were that he was not quite up to the perfection of the main guitarist, Jon Herington, who was on the extreme left of the stage, and I could even hear a tiny edge cutting into the next fret at one point, and then I realized that that was his style: edgy, not over the top speed playing, but soulful, and bluesy. He did look awfully concentrated on what he was doing all along the fretboard, but what we were hearing was good solid stuff.
OK, so we had a little bit of The Isley Bros, a bit of soul, and bit of jazzy stuff, and a bit of blues, but surely something was missing. It was, and Donald addressed it like this: 'Well, I suppose we gotta do one of those Steely Dan numbers!' Then launched into Kid Charlemagne. That was just wild and totally wonderful. I could hardly believe I was there, after a lifetime of listening to the Dan, and there Donald Fagen was, actually singing away one of their signature tunes as he sat, very comfortably, and very groovily, at the keys of a grand piano. We had brought tiny, but very effective, binoculars, and I made a point of using them to observe the Fagen man at close quarters precisely at the moment when he sang the immortal lines, 'Is there gas in the car? Yes, there's gas in the car.' You could see his soul in the music. You could see him sway. I could see his left arm, the arm closest to us audience, swing out and back as he thumped some major fifth (whether or not such a note is in the music it just sounds good). And, with his very square shoulders, he looked more, to me, like no-one else but Ray Charles. He was swinging. We were, too. It was a perfect and intricately well played vision of the original song, with all eyes going to Jon Herington for the uplifting guitar work, which he nailed.
And now we move onto the next song, which saw Boz back in the spotlight, and again with a guitar over his shoulders. He used two during the night, the strat and a woody darkish brown hollow-bodied double-horn electric, which he used here. And, to correct myself, now he was singing about tight dresses (maybe I just got tight dresses on the brain). This time, he also used an amazing wah-wah effect pedal which was almost as expressive as his voice. Well, it was certainly fluid, and his guitar lines were simply beautiful. My estimation of his guitar work skyrocketed. And yet he was also singing incredibly soulfully and at one point one of the two backing singers, the black girl, who, incidentally, was wearing a short dress so tight it looked like black latex, came down off her perch and traded lines with Boz. At this point, people were just loving the exchange and the beautiful interplay with his guitar work, all the time, of course, being supported by the full band playing their hearts out. It was truly magical, and truly soulful. His sound was delivered through huge VOX amplifiers, which
enhanced the already impressive tableau.
So, how to start the ball rolling? Open the stage with the three major dudes there, large as life, or have them make a dramatic entry after a bit? You got it, open with the cool backing band playing cool intro music (which I later discovered is from James Brown), and, then, after the audience has had quite enough of that and are thinking about, at least, scuffling their feet on the beautiful carpet (let's face it, this 'Pacifico Hotel' is pretty fancy), on walk the main guys. And to great applause. I can't believe I'm seeing Donald Fagen (being a huge Dan fan since early teens).
The opening piece was a big surprise: Who'sthat lady? by The Isley Bros. I was thoroughly impressed, because I had always loved that band, that song, and the album it came from, 3+3. It was, therefore, wonderful and surprising to hear. I loved it. The guitarist went into the solo territory, but truncated it as this was just the opening call to the audience.
After that it's all a blur. Well, not quite, but I was soon brought to the realization that my knowledge of the songs by these three individuals is patchy, even in regard to solo Donald Fagen, who introduced Michael McDonald by
using the term 'White Lightning'. This was no doubt a reference to his hair, which though still abundant, is shockingly white. Talking of white, I had a little slip of whitepaper on which I attempted to jot down minimal notes at best of each song. To wit, writing in the dark ain't my forte, so forgive the lack of precision on occasion. Anyway, after Michael, Donald took centre stage (which wasn't difficult because that’s where his grand piano was parked), and did a number I didn't recognize.I later discovered it was Marvyn Gaye’s Trouble Man. He sang and played it in a very bluesy, soulful way. Of note, he actually took to his feet a few times and wandered around, blowing into his handheld melodica, something like the instrument that kids learn at school, small and portable and cute. And somehow the sound was very audible and it was so affecting, because it sounded so homely and simple and convincing, as though here we have this amazing artist, and yet here he is going back to basics and the simplest instrument in his arsenal, and yet he is making it sing. He sometimes then held it near the back of his head as he sang, and I loved the song. It was so jazzy, and yet with a wonderful blues edge to it, and his singing was attacking and hard and with it, if we can say that phrase anymore...
Then it was up to Boz Scaggs to complete the intro of the stars of the night. Donald intro'd him as the 'Bluesman', and there he was, on the right of the stage, wielding a deep red Fender Strat, and, importantly, framed by two luscious black & white beauties behind on an elevated stage (the backing singers). From where we sat, then, every time we saw Boz, he was at the centre of this perfect tableau, his right knee often slight out, his shoulders well back, like a dude enjoying himself immensely, which is what he was. Again it was a song I couldn't place, so if you want, you can turn off the set right now, but I do remember it had a line about tight dresses, which got a reaction from the crowd. Then, he launched into a bluesy solo and I was fascinated to see what he would do, not being too aware of his guitar skills until I saw him actually holding one. I had always imagined him simply as a singer. I have never seen him holding a guitar before. First impressions were that he was not quite up to the perfection of the main guitarist, Jon Herington, who was on the extreme left of the stage, and I could even hear a tiny edge cutting into the next fret at one point, and then I realized that that was his style: edgy, not over the top speed playing, but soulful, and bluesy. He did look awfully concentrated on what he was doing all along the fretboard, but what we were hearing was good solid stuff.
OK, so we had a little bit of The Isley Bros, a bit of soul, and bit of jazzy stuff, and a bit of blues, but surely something was missing. It was, and Donald addressed it like this: 'Well, I suppose we gotta do one of those Steely Dan numbers!' Then launched into Kid Charlemagne. That was just wild and totally wonderful. I could hardly believe I was there, after a lifetime of listening to the Dan, and there Donald Fagen was, actually singing away one of their signature tunes as he sat, very comfortably, and very groovily, at the keys of a grand piano. We had brought tiny, but very effective, binoculars, and I made a point of using them to observe the Fagen man at close quarters precisely at the moment when he sang the immortal lines, 'Is there gas in the car? Yes, there's gas in the car.' You could see his soul in the music. You could see him sway. I could see his left arm, the arm closest to us audience, swing out and back as he thumped some major fifth (whether or not such a note is in the music it just sounds good). And, with his very square shoulders, he looked more, to me, like no-one else but Ray Charles. He was swinging. We were, too. It was a perfect and intricately well played vision of the original song, with all eyes going to Jon Herington for the uplifting guitar work, which he nailed.
And now we move onto the next song, which saw Boz back in the spotlight, and again with a guitar over his shoulders. He used two during the night, the strat and a woody darkish brown hollow-bodied double-horn electric, which he used here. And, to correct myself, now he was singing about tight dresses (maybe I just got tight dresses on the brain). This time, he also used an amazing wah-wah effect pedal which was almost as expressive as his voice. Well, it was certainly fluid, and his guitar lines were simply beautiful. My estimation of his guitar work skyrocketed. And yet he was also singing incredibly soulfully and at one point one of the two backing singers, the black girl, who, incidentally, was wearing a short dress so tight it looked like black latex, came down off her perch and traded lines with Boz. At this point, people were just loving the exchange and the beautiful interplay with his guitar work, all the time, of course, being supported by the full band playing their hearts out. It was truly magical, and truly soulful. His sound was delivered through huge VOX amplifiers, which
enhanced the already impressive tableau.
To fast forward a bit, we then had renditions of a Muddy Waters song, I heard it through the Grapevine, with, now, the white backing singer given the spotlight for this one (she did a wonderful job of this, too, and so elegant in her dark short one-piece dress, and taking over the stage like Michelle Pfeiffer in the Baker Boys movie -note, Donald intro'd the song by saying: 'You know Marvin Gaye's Heard it through the Grapevine?' to which we all reacted with a group yes, kind of, and he then said, 'Well, we ain't gonna play that for you', which got a laugh - but rather, he explained they would play an older version of it...). There was also a Chuck Berry number, during which my attention began to fade a little as it came as close to a kind of standard R 'n B or Rock 'n Roll to be almost anti-climactic in light of previous songs, with, at one point, a kind of rollicking pub song with not all that much depth, and followed by another from the era of the 50s, maybe the name Buck Owens was given by Donald in the intro, and yet this was also a little underwhelming. A little, mind, and simply in contrast to the music that had preceded it. Indeed, that song developed with great swing and energy. The ole memory ain't quite photographic, or audiographic. And it is the agenda of the Dukes to re-present the music they grew listening to.The point, I think, is that, yes, I love that old music, too, but I was really looking for the music of that had been built on it, in other words, the music of Steely Dan and The Doobie Brothers. I grew up with their sounds and their special harmonic complexities, but, hey, who could disavow Chuck Berry and Marvin Gaye?
Then, talking of famous songs, there was If you don't love me by now, an old standard soul ballad, and this lifted the repertoire back up to the heights, in my humble opinion. What was so interesting about this song was that it seemed like there were two sung levels going on. It was Michael McDonald's stage for this one, and, as he would throughout the set, he sang with unbelievable passion and verve. He gave 200% to everything, I have to say (and the wife insists I say), sat there tothe left of Donald, and at a Yamaha electronic keyboard (although one time he wielded quite a huge and beautiful accordion, too). Anyway, back to the two levels. On one level, the backing girls were singing the song in the usual soulful pitch and that was wonderful, and then Michael was singing over that, or in the meaningful spaces between what they sang, at a different, even more intense pitch, almost at odds with their register, but not. It's hard to describe, but the effect was to lift the song to a great height, and make it powerful and impassioned. It was natural to follow this up with a famous Doobie Brothers song, 'What a fool believes'. I will record here that I did not know the title of the song, but I knew it, at least distantly. My acquaintance with The Doobie Brothers was never very extensive, but I did absolutely love Livin' on the Faultline, and always was amazed by Michael McDonald's voice. I had this period when I loved that album, but that had been long ago, and I had not renewed my acquaintance. So, forgive your reporter for being so lacking in knowledge: I have since been thinking I might re-title it as 'What a fool not to know the name of that song!' Anyway, was it funky? Was it happening? Was it the Street? It was, all of the above. And it really energized the band into a higher pitch of operation. Suddenly the concert became a great concert, a happening, a piece of True Cool.
Then, talking of famous songs, there was If you don't love me by now, an old standard soul ballad, and this lifted the repertoire back up to the heights, in my humble opinion. What was so interesting about this song was that it seemed like there were two sung levels going on. It was Michael McDonald's stage for this one, and, as he would throughout the set, he sang with unbelievable passion and verve. He gave 200% to everything, I have to say (and the wife insists I say), sat there tothe left of Donald, and at a Yamaha electronic keyboard (although one time he wielded quite a huge and beautiful accordion, too). Anyway, back to the two levels. On one level, the backing girls were singing the song in the usual soulful pitch and that was wonderful, and then Michael was singing over that, or in the meaningful spaces between what they sang, at a different, even more intense pitch, almost at odds with their register, but not. It's hard to describe, but the effect was to lift the song to a great height, and make it powerful and impassioned. It was natural to follow this up with a famous Doobie Brothers song, 'What a fool believes'. I will record here that I did not know the title of the song, but I knew it, at least distantly. My acquaintance with The Doobie Brothers was never very extensive, but I did absolutely love Livin' on the Faultline, and always was amazed by Michael McDonald's voice. I had this period when I loved that album, but that had been long ago, and I had not renewed my acquaintance. So, forgive your reporter for being so lacking in knowledge: I have since been thinking I might re-title it as 'What a fool not to know the name of that song!' Anyway, was it funky? Was it happening? Was it the Street? It was, all of the above. And it really energized the band into a higher pitch of operation. Suddenly the concert became a great concert, a happening, a piece of True Cool.
To follow this non-sequitur, we had Steely Dan's Hey, Nineteen! which just about blew me away for being so funky and, get this, funny! An amazing song, and all about timing, with a considerable amount of humour and light.It was well appreciated by us all. Isn't Gaucho so underrated? It's a great album. Indeed, that was not even a song I rated so highly until I saw this version. It had always seemed a little Pop-py to my ears, but in a good way. Now it was like a re-invention of cool and pop, with all the ironic humour (pop but not quite) in clear evidence.
Then, a Boz Scaggs number which I didn't know, but which was really cool. Sorry for the lack of info on that one, followed by Donald intro-ing the next song A piece of my heart, which, he explained was famous as a Janis Joplin song, but that she had gotten it from the sister of Aretha Franklin. And then we had the black girl singer again, and she out-Joplined Joplin. She really did, minus the hysterics.
Next, with its opening unmistakable piano riff of deh deh deh, repeated deh deh deh, it was into Steely Dan's Peg, from Aja. Actually, the deh deh deh thing comes after the horn, and guitar-melded, intro, of course! I racked my brain for a few seconds to put that name to the unmistakable song, and then I was locked right in. This was classic Dan, and soon into the melodic wonders of the song I found myself actually shedding tears of joy at what I was hearing, and seeing. There, Donald Fagen, one of the great composers of popular song, a person of the importance of Stephen Foster, George Gerswhin, Cole Porter, Ray Charles, The Beatles, Stevie Wonder, and as a performer and interpreter, Elvis Presley, there, Donald Fagen was sitting at a grand piano and singing the song Peg by his Steely Dan, a group I had listened to all through my growing up period, with their often bizarre and unintelligible but mysterious and ever so cool lyrics, there he sat and played that wonderful music. How could tears not come out? The trumpet player came forward for a spotlight performance, using the mute in a very funny, very improvisational way. It provided a rousing and highly jazzy conclusion to what had already been one of the highlights of the concert.
It is possible to get tired, I suppose, of all the excitement and the intensity, but then these masters of stage and sound knew precisely how to manage the audience's attention. They knew how to follow a song, and what they did now was to get down from the heights of Peg, to, you've guessed it, Boz Scagg's Lowdown. This turned out to be an absolutely perfect version of the album cut, with all the cool flute stuff too, exactly as on the CD. Yet, it was no simple reproduction of a track laid down nearly forty years ago, it was a re-experience and re-enlivenment of that whole Lowdown cool that everybody loved, and the thing that everybody loved about Boz Scaggs, the dandy singing gent. He was cooling things down, down, down, and it was a great extended moment. At the very end, when all the music had come to an end, Boz looked at the audience, turning slightly and said some cool words....
memory...memory....like 'I know what you been doing, baby' or some such cool utterance which the crowd warmed to. Note: the song began with its signature bass flipped riff, played to perfection by the black dude on the bass, who was solid all the way through the night. (At one point, by the way, he appeared disconcerted by a hum from the bass speakers; no crew came on to help and he solved it himself, mid-song, with a little bit of twiddling with the knobs. These guys know their onions.)
How to proceed was never a problem for these real sultans of swing. What were treated to was one of the greatest sounds I've heard from a keyboard. It just kind of came out of nowhere, which added to its drama and presence. It was Michael, and he was doing a solo spot. He was playing the most rollicking, most soul-ingrained bassy-trebly run on the keys, very Hammond organ (although a Yamaha, as said), and very impressive phrasing, almost like I've never heard even from Joe Sample, or almost. With this he launched into the Doobie standard high hit of Taking it to the Streets, which became a total crowd-pleaser. People were wowed to the highest degree by this impassioned -there I use the word again- swinging, totally rocking version, with the brass blowing the roof off the auditorium. Actually, I now remember that during this song, which was a little more than Gospel-tinged, I felt like we had entered the realm of that scene in The Blues Brothers where James Brown does the gospel thing in the church. It was that intense.
Followed by....
…with its signature guitar lick, known to millions, to generations, Reeling in the Years,from the very first Steely Dan album, Can’t Buy a Thrill. It was almost Jon Herington's song, considering the amount of guitar work in it, and the centrality of that guitar work, too. Yet, to hear Donald laying down the chords on his grand and delivering the lines with all the cool and the freshness they were first delivered so many years ago, reeling in all that and so much more to deliver an amazing climax to the concert, a trip down memories and feelings from beyond the beyond, when we were kids and hearing this stuff and dreaming of New York and America. They left the stage after this piece came to its thrilling conclusion, all eyes on Herington as he earned his money, in some ways more than anyone, as he had to work to perfection all the way through every song. One tiny slip and confidence would have been shaken, but never once did he slip. The other point, of course, is that Steely Dan songs contain such challenging guitar work, that it seems unlikely anyone other than the original players could have executed half the stuff they did. On which point, John Herrington was brilliantly up to the challenge. He aced all of the songs, but, and this is only something a perfectionist Dan-maniac can say, I suppose, on occasion, there would be a difference which bespoke a run not quite up to the natural complexity of the original. For example, the run in Kid Charlemagne was great, but not as fluid and as complex as the original, which seemed to flow as from a dream, and is the real property of Larry Carlton. In reality, however, there was nothing to detract from Herington's achievement. It was a completely successful and convincing and pure to the tradition of the Dan. So many of the sounds he got were so true to the sound of the original, too. He used Marshall amps, with Guyatone heads, and he had a rack of five electrics. The most used, as on 'Reeling', was his red Gibson SG, and next, perhaps, was his pale colored Telecaster. Can't quite remember the others. (Which reminds me, at one point Boz played an acoustic, a folk, like a Martin, but perhaps not, checking the headstock.)
So, as the cast were off stage, we all slow hand-clapped (after the proper applause, that is), and called out and whistled (although I couldn't do that). And, duly, they came back on. And played a rip-roaring LidoShuffle. Boz was lapping it up. It's one of those songs that just craves audience participation, with its Oh oh oh ooooh oooooh ooh ooh ho bit, and by this stage the audience was extremely animated, with people standing here and there, sometimes blocking the view, too. The most conspicuous person in this category was this older Western(American?) bloke, who slipped over the front fence/rail part in front of his seat and started dancing away in the space between our block and the block closer to the stage. I could see a little boy, his son most likely, who had been sitting next to him, try to pull him back, and meanwhile, an official had come over to explain to him the principle of decorum, and yet, it looked for a moment as though they were both dancing together. The bloke dutifully got back to where he was supposed to be, and dutifully, heeding the call within him, got back out again and started dancing, blocking our view of Donald Fagen, but since he was having such a good time, we weren't upset. He sidled off and danced along and in front of others after that. It was party time, and you couldn't but empathize. A lot were standing here and there, in that same space, but we could still see the stage OK. There was a great buzz among everyone.
The unmistakable acoustic piano chords of Pretzel Logic soon sounded from the stage, after a flurry of jazz runs by the Man. We were back into Dan heaven, and Dan legend. It was a treat to hear. After Donald's amazing take on a song which describes traveling singersanyway, Boz delivered the lines about Napoleon ('I have never met Napoleon, but I plan to find the time...'), and I sang along, checking my volume, as I didn't want to spoil it for others. (This was something I had to be careful about all the way through the concert, as I know the lines of a host of Dan songs off by heart, and find them so easy to sing.) Then, Michael did the break, the 'Where did you get those shoes? (More like 'shoooooooeeeeees') bit, and everyone went wild. Ecstatic moment, Dan into the ceiling, through the ceiling, into the upper-stratosphere, past space, and into then crystal heaven where Dan fans dwell. Jon Herington made it all possible, with his Dan phrasing and his brilliance, and that goes for the rest of the band, too. Donald had intro'd them earlier and only then did I hear that the other keyboardist -apart from Donald and Michael McDonald- was none other than Jim Beard! A kind of legend himself, and there he was playing extreme second fiddle to these guys. But they were/are giants.
The band loved the applause and the noise. They then launched into what seemed like a familiar tune; it was the opening groove repeated, as a kind of cyclical statement of closure. It was not as deep or demanding or complex as what they had been pouring out, but when they gave the lines (as part of the song) 'Thank you for letting us be ourselves' it was obvious this was just a way of speaking to us, directly, just a groove vehicle for the band to say thanks for the great reception, and for loving the music as much as they did. It was therefore a great bonus when this turned out to be not exactly the final song. Whatever that was I wasn't quite sure, but it rocked! It was some amazing tune that had them running from a very deep bass kind of register to a very high and trebly sonic area. I felt that I had definitely heard this before, but long ago, somewhere, somehow, and it was washing over us like a wave of something fresh and impactful and soulful and sweet and vigorous and wonderful and so much so that when it ended, it felt like we had traveled somewhere wonderful, too. (I have since discovered that it was a Buddy Miles / Hendrix song called Them Changes.) The lights came on and we had to pour out of that sacred, blessed world. People noticeably ecstatic, and keyed up, and as I accompanied the wife on the way out through the doors, I found myself singing the words of Pretzel Logic and Kid Charlemagne. In Dan, Doobie, Boz heaven. Now, I could sing out.
Their voices, by the way, are almost unaffected by age. They all sang in the register and style they have been known for. Michael’s famous falsetto; Boz’s half-drawl croon; Donald’s jazz-blues inflected New Jersey tones. They sang with passion unparalleled, but the wife gives the laurels of the night to Michael. He did excel in terms of rock energy, it has to be said. But ….What can I say? (Boz song ref, there!) Three of the greatest white soul voices in history on stage together. What a privilege to hear them sing, and swing.
Martin
Then, a Boz Scaggs number which I didn't know, but which was really cool. Sorry for the lack of info on that one, followed by Donald intro-ing the next song A piece of my heart, which, he explained was famous as a Janis Joplin song, but that she had gotten it from the sister of Aretha Franklin. And then we had the black girl singer again, and she out-Joplined Joplin. She really did, minus the hysterics.
Next, with its opening unmistakable piano riff of deh deh deh, repeated deh deh deh, it was into Steely Dan's Peg, from Aja. Actually, the deh deh deh thing comes after the horn, and guitar-melded, intro, of course! I racked my brain for a few seconds to put that name to the unmistakable song, and then I was locked right in. This was classic Dan, and soon into the melodic wonders of the song I found myself actually shedding tears of joy at what I was hearing, and seeing. There, Donald Fagen, one of the great composers of popular song, a person of the importance of Stephen Foster, George Gerswhin, Cole Porter, Ray Charles, The Beatles, Stevie Wonder, and as a performer and interpreter, Elvis Presley, there, Donald Fagen was sitting at a grand piano and singing the song Peg by his Steely Dan, a group I had listened to all through my growing up period, with their often bizarre and unintelligible but mysterious and ever so cool lyrics, there he sat and played that wonderful music. How could tears not come out? The trumpet player came forward for a spotlight performance, using the mute in a very funny, very improvisational way. It provided a rousing and highly jazzy conclusion to what had already been one of the highlights of the concert.
It is possible to get tired, I suppose, of all the excitement and the intensity, but then these masters of stage and sound knew precisely how to manage the audience's attention. They knew how to follow a song, and what they did now was to get down from the heights of Peg, to, you've guessed it, Boz Scagg's Lowdown. This turned out to be an absolutely perfect version of the album cut, with all the cool flute stuff too, exactly as on the CD. Yet, it was no simple reproduction of a track laid down nearly forty years ago, it was a re-experience and re-enlivenment of that whole Lowdown cool that everybody loved, and the thing that everybody loved about Boz Scaggs, the dandy singing gent. He was cooling things down, down, down, and it was a great extended moment. At the very end, when all the music had come to an end, Boz looked at the audience, turning slightly and said some cool words....
memory...memory....like 'I know what you been doing, baby' or some such cool utterance which the crowd warmed to. Note: the song began with its signature bass flipped riff, played to perfection by the black dude on the bass, who was solid all the way through the night. (At one point, by the way, he appeared disconcerted by a hum from the bass speakers; no crew came on to help and he solved it himself, mid-song, with a little bit of twiddling with the knobs. These guys know their onions.)
How to proceed was never a problem for these real sultans of swing. What were treated to was one of the greatest sounds I've heard from a keyboard. It just kind of came out of nowhere, which added to its drama and presence. It was Michael, and he was doing a solo spot. He was playing the most rollicking, most soul-ingrained bassy-trebly run on the keys, very Hammond organ (although a Yamaha, as said), and very impressive phrasing, almost like I've never heard even from Joe Sample, or almost. With this he launched into the Doobie standard high hit of Taking it to the Streets, which became a total crowd-pleaser. People were wowed to the highest degree by this impassioned -there I use the word again- swinging, totally rocking version, with the brass blowing the roof off the auditorium. Actually, I now remember that during this song, which was a little more than Gospel-tinged, I felt like we had entered the realm of that scene in The Blues Brothers where James Brown does the gospel thing in the church. It was that intense.
Followed by....
…with its signature guitar lick, known to millions, to generations, Reeling in the Years,from the very first Steely Dan album, Can’t Buy a Thrill. It was almost Jon Herington's song, considering the amount of guitar work in it, and the centrality of that guitar work, too. Yet, to hear Donald laying down the chords on his grand and delivering the lines with all the cool and the freshness they were first delivered so many years ago, reeling in all that and so much more to deliver an amazing climax to the concert, a trip down memories and feelings from beyond the beyond, when we were kids and hearing this stuff and dreaming of New York and America. They left the stage after this piece came to its thrilling conclusion, all eyes on Herington as he earned his money, in some ways more than anyone, as he had to work to perfection all the way through every song. One tiny slip and confidence would have been shaken, but never once did he slip. The other point, of course, is that Steely Dan songs contain such challenging guitar work, that it seems unlikely anyone other than the original players could have executed half the stuff they did. On which point, John Herrington was brilliantly up to the challenge. He aced all of the songs, but, and this is only something a perfectionist Dan-maniac can say, I suppose, on occasion, there would be a difference which bespoke a run not quite up to the natural complexity of the original. For example, the run in Kid Charlemagne was great, but not as fluid and as complex as the original, which seemed to flow as from a dream, and is the real property of Larry Carlton. In reality, however, there was nothing to detract from Herington's achievement. It was a completely successful and convincing and pure to the tradition of the Dan. So many of the sounds he got were so true to the sound of the original, too. He used Marshall amps, with Guyatone heads, and he had a rack of five electrics. The most used, as on 'Reeling', was his red Gibson SG, and next, perhaps, was his pale colored Telecaster. Can't quite remember the others. (Which reminds me, at one point Boz played an acoustic, a folk, like a Martin, but perhaps not, checking the headstock.)
So, as the cast were off stage, we all slow hand-clapped (after the proper applause, that is), and called out and whistled (although I couldn't do that). And, duly, they came back on. And played a rip-roaring LidoShuffle. Boz was lapping it up. It's one of those songs that just craves audience participation, with its Oh oh oh ooooh oooooh ooh ooh ho bit, and by this stage the audience was extremely animated, with people standing here and there, sometimes blocking the view, too. The most conspicuous person in this category was this older Western(American?) bloke, who slipped over the front fence/rail part in front of his seat and started dancing away in the space between our block and the block closer to the stage. I could see a little boy, his son most likely, who had been sitting next to him, try to pull him back, and meanwhile, an official had come over to explain to him the principle of decorum, and yet, it looked for a moment as though they were both dancing together. The bloke dutifully got back to where he was supposed to be, and dutifully, heeding the call within him, got back out again and started dancing, blocking our view of Donald Fagen, but since he was having such a good time, we weren't upset. He sidled off and danced along and in front of others after that. It was party time, and you couldn't but empathize. A lot were standing here and there, in that same space, but we could still see the stage OK. There was a great buzz among everyone.
The unmistakable acoustic piano chords of Pretzel Logic soon sounded from the stage, after a flurry of jazz runs by the Man. We were back into Dan heaven, and Dan legend. It was a treat to hear. After Donald's amazing take on a song which describes traveling singersanyway, Boz delivered the lines about Napoleon ('I have never met Napoleon, but I plan to find the time...'), and I sang along, checking my volume, as I didn't want to spoil it for others. (This was something I had to be careful about all the way through the concert, as I know the lines of a host of Dan songs off by heart, and find them so easy to sing.) Then, Michael did the break, the 'Where did you get those shoes? (More like 'shoooooooeeeeees') bit, and everyone went wild. Ecstatic moment, Dan into the ceiling, through the ceiling, into the upper-stratosphere, past space, and into then crystal heaven where Dan fans dwell. Jon Herington made it all possible, with his Dan phrasing and his brilliance, and that goes for the rest of the band, too. Donald had intro'd them earlier and only then did I hear that the other keyboardist -apart from Donald and Michael McDonald- was none other than Jim Beard! A kind of legend himself, and there he was playing extreme second fiddle to these guys. But they were/are giants.
The band loved the applause and the noise. They then launched into what seemed like a familiar tune; it was the opening groove repeated, as a kind of cyclical statement of closure. It was not as deep or demanding or complex as what they had been pouring out, but when they gave the lines (as part of the song) 'Thank you for letting us be ourselves' it was obvious this was just a way of speaking to us, directly, just a groove vehicle for the band to say thanks for the great reception, and for loving the music as much as they did. It was therefore a great bonus when this turned out to be not exactly the final song. Whatever that was I wasn't quite sure, but it rocked! It was some amazing tune that had them running from a very deep bass kind of register to a very high and trebly sonic area. I felt that I had definitely heard this before, but long ago, somewhere, somehow, and it was washing over us like a wave of something fresh and impactful and soulful and sweet and vigorous and wonderful and so much so that when it ended, it felt like we had traveled somewhere wonderful, too. (I have since discovered that it was a Buddy Miles / Hendrix song called Them Changes.) The lights came on and we had to pour out of that sacred, blessed world. People noticeably ecstatic, and keyed up, and as I accompanied the wife on the way out through the doors, I found myself singing the words of Pretzel Logic and Kid Charlemagne. In Dan, Doobie, Boz heaven. Now, I could sing out.
Their voices, by the way, are almost unaffected by age. They all sang in the register and style they have been known for. Michael’s famous falsetto; Boz’s half-drawl croon; Donald’s jazz-blues inflected New Jersey tones. They sang with passion unparalleled, but the wife gives the laurels of the night to Michael. He did excel in terms of rock energy, it has to be said. But ….What can I say? (Boz song ref, there!) Three of the greatest white soul voices in history on stage together. What a privilege to hear them sing, and swing.
Martin
Post-script
‘I have since discovered’ is a phrase I use often above. It can be traced to the link below to a webpage which contains not only the set-list for the show of the previous night, in the Budokan in Tokyo, but video links to each song taken during the performance on November 1st. It is quite a cool resource, so if you are interested, dive in. I wrote my piece using only a piece of paper I had jotted down details on in the dark as the concert was unfolding. Coupled with my patchy knowledge of some of the music, what I wrote contains a fair few gaps. Anyway, it is my record of a great night of music.
http://www.setlist.fm/setlist/dukes-of-september-rhythm-revue/2012/nippon-budokan-tokyo-japan-13dab105.html
http://www.setlist.fm/setlist/dukes-of-september-rhythm-revue/2012/nippon-budokan-tokyo-japan-13dab105.html