SO: went to see BEAT last night: King Crimson and Frank Zappa alum uniting to play 80's King Crimson, with drum support from Tool's Danny Carey. Short version: it was great!
People were lined up on Granville when I got there, and the progress forward was slow; then an Orpheum satff member came along the row and pointed out (as I already knew) that the front entrance was on Smithe and we could get in faster if we lined up there, since there were more ticket-takers. I had wondered why we were lined up on Granville at all, so I quickly departed for the side of the building, and -- because I moved so confidently -- a few other people got out of line with me and made the same trek. They then gathered around me in the other line and began to complain about the grocery store effect, about how this line might have more ticket takers but it also had people coming from more than one direction (people had also apparently lined up on Seymour) and was therefore in fact slower: "It's always the way! We should have just stayed in the line we were in." I felt, personally, like we did get in sooner and wondered if people were actually that bitchy and suspicious or were just grousing good-naturedly as a form of making small talk. I mean, I guess it beats complaining about the weather.
Haven't been to the Orpheum in ages; last time was when Nick Cave did a duet with Mark Lanegan back in 2014? The only time I ever saw Lanegan. Believe the vid you find for that -- of Lanegan and Cave doing a duet on "The Weeping Song" -- was shot by Art Perry and is one of those cases where a fan video captures a truly rare/ precious moment; Cave remarked on it after Lanegan's death, as I recall, though I don't remember specifically what he said.
Initially, once seated, I was in row 25, an aisle seat (useful for avoiding leg cramps) when someone who looked a bit like John Lucas, and who was in fact named John, but who I don't think WAS John Lucas, since he was up from Seattle, asked me if I was seated alone. I said I was. "Well, my son couldn't make it so I have an extra seat in row 2, if you want to join me?"
An upgrade! Best upgrade since that time I was flying from Tokyo to Vancouver and got bumped into first class, and even though my new seat was one in, the legroom was okay... We chatted about, well, seeing Nick Cave and about how gauche it was for one member of the audience to "out" Elvis Costello at the Massey Hall during that "Nick Cave in conversation" event. Up to that point, Costello and Krall were just being people, unmolested and unremarked upon -- which oddly made me respect Costello more than I already did, as I said to John, seated beside me. "Oh, you were there too?" "Yeah: do you remember the guy who asked the question about Leonard Cohen's 'The Future,' about the crack and anal sex, apropos of Cave's possible self-censorship about the arterial spray in 'Papa Won't Leave You Henry'...? That was me, before my voice got fucked up."
Laugh if you will that I introduced myself thus, folks, but that question got the arterial spray re-instated in live performances of that song. It was really funny how Cave hesitated, performing it that night, so to remember where it went. A lot of questions that night were about grief and the afterlife and such, but that moment was one of the few very funny ones.
Anyhow, I wonder how Elvis Costello felt about being outed by that one audience member? Was he pleased to know that Cave knew he was there? Was Cave pleased to know Costello was there? Would they just rather not know such things and "be people" whenever possible? (Cave didn't know Bob Dylan was in the audience the other day when Dylan tweeted about him, which I believe he said he was grateful for -- it would have put some pressure on him, had he realized). I guess it's something to ask Cave about, not that I'll ever interact with him again.
I did make a couple of trips to the merch table during breaks, but bought nothing. There was no vinyl. There were signed CDs by Belew and Levin, and a blu of Levin playing a Chapman stick, which a fascinating and unfamiliar instrument, but how often would I watch it, especially given the amount of content on YouTube which features him playing the same daunting instrument? As for t-shirts, the decision was made for me, as they only went up to XL. I was more inclined to covet the ubiquitous King Crimson shirts in the audience, anyhow: but none of those were on sale. There were also some Stickmen shirts in the crowd (but not on the table), and I saw one guy in a Steve Vai shirt. I saw no Tool shirts anywhere... Though I did see someone incongruously rockin' a Triumph Allied Forces tee.
I had that album when I was a kid, but it's been forty years since I heard it. I'm in no rush!
In my new! improved! seat, I was enjoying hearing about the meet and greet that had happened earlier, with both John and the fellow in the aisle having had a chance to shake hands and say hello and get their photo taken with the artists (which will then be emailed to them; you didn't get to take pictures of your own, apparently). The line moved quite briskly, but people were affable enough. I don't think I asked how much it cost for the privilege, but I took the opportunity to tell John about the Riverview hospital anecdote, linked below, which is really the only thing I'd have to say to these guys anyhow, at this point (I guess I could ask Tony Levin if anyone ever told him he looked like Bob Ostertag?).
Then the music began. Belew and Vai were dressier when they first came out, wearing suits, which they would take layers off of during the night -- especially Vai, who had three distinct "phases" in dress and seemed the dandiest of the men onstage. His initial suit almost made him seem like he might pull a switchblade on you -- a vaguely menacing cut, though I'm not sure why (too many 1940s crime movies?). They opened with "Neurotica" and "Neal and Jack and Me," with Levin going right to the stick for the first two songs, then strapping on a normal bass for the third one, whereupon Belew joked -- he joked a lot between songs -- that they had started with a couple of the easy ones, and were now going to play one of the really hard ones, which proved to be "Heartbeat," which -- I mean, I think the joke here is, it surely was the simplest of songs they did, though whether simple-is-hard for these guys or Belew was just playing with words, I cannot say.
While I was otherwise in a mellow frame, I confess that I did feel some resentment at the fellow down the aisle who got up to go to the bathroom, making us all stand up mid-song, then stand again for his return, but moreso because I also had to pee, and had for awhile, at that point. I also had to fart, which I was suppressing. Much of the end of the first set, I was regretting the lentils I'd been eating the day before. During the intermission, I spent some time in the lobby on "controlled release," but it just seemed like it would be gauche to fart next to my row 2 benefactor... I could feel the gas expanding in me...
Said hellos to Rob Frith and Gerald Yoshida during the intermission (Gerald, you really can have that signed Girlschool record, just hit me up). Long lineup for snacks, the guy beside me bitching that someone (he thought) had butted in, though the buddy of the guy who butted in said the guy had a claim on the space. I did not get involved much, but tried to project a Lebowski vibe on the dispute: "It's all just space, man, no need to get so, like, territorial about it." I was somewhat amused that the guy who was behind the guy who he thought had butted in (who in turn thought he had a claim) ultimately jockeyed to get back in front of him, to get his beverage that full minute sooner and make the alleged line-butter wait. I assume there was alcohol in his drink: it seems to go well with aggrieved territorialism. Myself, I bought a Pepsi Zero (and some Pringles), then I went and stood in line for the toilet, munching chips the whole time.
It was a very male audience, last night, so the lineups for the mens', for once, were longer for us than the ladies'. But I felt among my people: overweight men in their 50s with facial hair.
Returning to my newly upgraded seat just as the second set began, I discovered the guy who was sitting in the actual aisle now was shooting a video involving Danny Carey and Belew playing a drum solo at the front of the stage (I am sure there is a setlist online where you can archaeologize this and find out the song; the setlists seem very consistent for this tour). It was very pretty music, and I didn't want to push past the guy and wreck his video, especially since he'd really paid for the swank seat, so I just squatted in the aisle for the whole seven minutes of the song, my hamstrings twanging aggrievedly. I had only taken few photos up to that point, but since I was stuck in the aisle anyhow, I seized the moment and took a few more.
Nick Cave came to mind another time during the night, when the shadows of both Levin (on the wall to the audience's right) and Vai (to the wall on the left) reminded me of Cave's very expressive shadow on the walls of the Vogue a few years ago. Levin's hatless shadow was not as photogenic as Vai's hatted one, so I just got shots of Levin himself. (Note that he played the bass with weird stick-things on his fingers; I had not seen those before).
The audience was an interesting place to be in. There were some young people who, with Belew's encouragement, tried to dance late in the second set (which was initially ixnayed by security, despite Belew's invitation). Ultimately, the final song, "Thela Hun Ginjeet" would see everyone standing and up-front, dancing, which is only proper for such a show. Some of the most expressive people in the audience were quite dorky, actually, wearing baseball caps and looking like they probably were (or had been) the type to get beaten up in junior high school for their lunch money. Does that still happen?
Those dorks rocked, though. There was a kid in a cap in particular, seated right up front, who obviously loved Three of a Perfect Pair, which featured, Belew remarked, some of the rarer material (or did he say "scarcer"?) that the band would do last night. Said kid nodded along so enthusiastically that I felt a bit jealous of him, in fact, because that's the album of the three I know least well. But jealousy is never the whole story: I was happy for him too.
Then I spent awhile thinking about a neurodiverse Tool fan who I met at work, who I told about the Beat show, since he'd gone to see Tool when last they were in town. I wondered if he had come out, or if the presumed acidhead from Riverview who bonded with me over "Indiscipline" was perhaps there?
Are there a fair number of mentally ill and/ or neurodivergent King Crimson fans out there? Is Fripp himself neurodivergent?
I assumed the elephant logo was a signifier of Fripp, or King Crimson: the elephant in the room. Question for an interview that I did not do: how is playing this material live different when Robert Fripp isn't present?
Weirdly, Vai, who was playing Fripp's guitar parts, looked younger when he took his hat off, later in the evening. Flashy as he is as a person, I actually thought he was somewhat understated in his playing last night -- essential, but subordinate, aware maybe that it's Levin and Belew who have the Crimson pedigree? He called less attention to himself as a guitarist than I expected, in any case. There were clearly people in the audience who were there as Vai fans, who cheered him every time his playing took the for.
For me, Belew's guitar was a bit more noticeable, maybe because he was front-and-centre, closest to me. I finally caught the "animal sounds" thing people talk about with him, which I'd read about but not noticed, until early on -- perhaps during "Neal and Jack and Me" -- where he used his guitar to evoke baaing sheep, or such. Then this morning -- with my wife never having heard about Belew and "animal sounds" before -- I was playing her a live clip of "Matte Kudasai," one of the prettiest songs they did, and she commented that his guitar sounded like whales or something.
Anyhow, I can't write about playing on this level. The playing of men like this is more evolved than my listening (but I'm working on it).
I have very little else to say about the night. Carey's best drum bits were during "Indiscipline." Belew dedicated "Red" to Robert Fripp and Bill Bruford. Levin brought his camera out near the end -- his Facebook has shown off several of the venues the band has played in, and many are quite spectacular. This is going to be a very well-documented tour...!
I don't know if I've ever seen a higher level of musicianship onstage, seen more complex parts performed so proficiently by four people. Certainly not at rock concert, I don't think. A lot of the more virtuosic stuff one sees, it's one person, like, say, Richard Thompson, and it's all about that one person and their backing band, but last night, it was four virtuosos, playing densely interlocked parts, all equally spectacular. I closed my eyes for bits of it, and it was gorgeous, but I also enjoyed it when my eyes were opened.
The rest is photos, by me, taken in sequence: the end of the main set, the encore, and the end of the encore. I did not photograph the long lineup to leave, but I just sat it out.
Thanks, BEAT: that was splendid. And thanks again to John from Seattle, for the upgrade!
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