Saturday, July 01, 2023

Jonathan Richman: Two Vancouver shows

Jonathan Richman was amazing both nights in Vancouver... but moreso at the Rio. 

Was it because people at the St. James hall were standing, dancing, right up close to the stage, more of a physical presence to be contended with, while people at the Rio stayed, mostly - a brief ovation aside - seated, drawing Jonathan further out into the room? Was it because the people at St. James were a bit noisier, shouting occasionally, wanting Jonathan's attention? (At one point at the St. James show, someone shouted "Thank you!" at the stage, and Jonathan's response, explaining that yes, this - playing songs - is the sort of behaviour that is expected of them when they were onstage, probably conveyed some irritation, just a pinch of sarcasm, good-humoured though it was). The odd person snapping pictures aside, which we know he does not care for - and which I only noticed the first night - it was all positive, but the audience was still a bit intrusive the first night, the sort of crowd where people would periodically shout, "We love you, Jonathan!" at the stage, for example (a phrase that often has a kind of aggression to it, strangely). The boisterousness and notice-me-ness of the audience seemed to have an impact, seemed to inform the sort of show we got, the first night, which was still marvelous, but more playful, maybe a bit more superficial. Jonathan danced a lot more, joked a lot more, put down his guitar to shake percussion instruments and cheerlead clapalongs more. Both sets had several songs in European languages - mostly Italian, but some French and Spanish - but (I think) there was slightly more explanation of the lyrics that first night, too, more line-by-line translation. And he played what I think was a slightly shorter set, missing a few of the more profound songs that we heard the next night, the songs that took in matters of life and death (Leonard Cohen's "Here It Is," for example, or his own "Just a Spark, on Journey From the Dark"). There was a bit of storytelling and explanation between-songs both nights - including some rather charming advice about being careful on the internet, on the second night, which he contextualized with quite a bit of explanation about how he himself is not on the internet - but Jonathan seemed maybe a bit more nervous about it the second night, stumbling on his words more often, being just a bit more awkward in his self-presentation, perhaps because he was able to go deeper into his material, access more vulnerable places...

I mean, I can only theorize. Was it because the room was larger? Quieter? With everyone seated? Was it just that we were all more warmed up for the second show, more prepared? I can only speculate, but Richman noticed it too, even explained on mike at the Rio that the mood was different, that there was no setlist and that the songs would be different, which they were, though certain crowd-pleasers ("Cold Pizza," "Give Paris One More Chance," "That Summer Feeling," "No One Was Like Vermeer," a song about Reggaeton) were played at both shows... but did he prefer the second audience? Were we luckier? Did we get just a bit further into the artist's heart? Maybe; it felt that way. People who went both nights had the best of all possible worlds - and got to hear both his live mainstays, "Pablo Picasso" and "I Was Dancing at the Lesbian Bar," which he split up, the first on the first night, the second on the second - but the show at the Rio, I think, was the best show of his of the four I have seen, the more singular.  

What we did not see at all, either night - the slightly sarcastic response to the shouted thank you aside, maybe - was the visibly irritated Jonathan, like the one who singled out and chided someone recording a song on her phone at the Biltmore some ten years ago ("Why are you watching me through a screen? I'm right here!") or who seemed taken aback by the violence of the applause that was pummeling him at Richards on Richards, back in 2008, where the song choices - "As My Mother Lay Dying," "When We Refuse to Suffer," and one other that a friend recalled and reminded me of last night, but that I now forget - seemed attempts to educate the audience in how to engage, and how not to. There are plenty of songs in his body of work, especially later on, that are educational, and we even heard one at the Rio, one of the songs inspired by Rumi, "He Gave Us the Wine to Taste" (which rhymes with, "not to criticize and waste") but...

...Jeez, am I now "criticizing and wasting?" Have I failed to appreciate the lesson? Is there really a need for these notes? Who am I recording this for? I already have forgotten some of the songs he did, both nights. I want to hang onto them. What was the story he told about his dog, a pitbull, and how the pitbull was getting older, so they had to have more dog beds around the house? What song was that attached to, the first night? I want to fight to keep things from slipping through my fingers, but does that very anxiety actually make it harder for me to remember? If I weren't trying to grasp onto the memories, record them, make a note for some future purpose, would I actually be able to go deeper, myself, into the experience, and remember it better? That 2008 show review I linked has lots of details I have now forgotten, but did I forget them precisely because I wrote them down? Am I living wrong? Can I do this better?

Maybe. In any event, I also went a bit deeper into the experience the second night, I think. But I enjoyed both shows, and marvel what a marvelous, singular human being Jonathan Richman is - wise, weird, funny, both fragile and courageous, and so very vibrant. I hope you went last night. I hope you went both nights. I hope I get to see him again. 

Thank you, Mr. Richman...

1 comment:

  1. Of course, Allan is the only person to capture the essence of a Jonathon Richman show in a review....literally the only journalist who has ever tried to do so.
    A friend of mine once commented on the "pleading" look Jonathon carries on his face during much of the show. "What's he pleading for?" my friend asked.
    He answered his own question a few minutes later "Your soul...he's pleading for your soul."

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