When I was a senior in High School, I picked up Welcome To The Club, a double disc live album which was a de facto greatest hits collection. I really took a serious shine to the music--he was an artist who rocked hard, but could also pen a heartfelt intelligent ballad. And many of the songs even had a bit of a theatrical quality. I really wanted to go see him perform but I couldn't find anybody who had an interest back then. So in a way going to this show was a fulfillment of something I never got around to doing. And in a way I am grateful to Ian Hunter because it dawned on me recently that this music was probably a preawakening to me of the Punk world that opened up to me when I went to College.
Just as bands like The Clash did not come on the scene from a desert island sui generis, despite their protestations of "no Beatles, no Elvis", I was probably moving in that direction before I realized it when I listened to Ian Hunter's music. Mott the Hoople was an influence on bands like The Clash. Maybe they would not be quite as we know them. (Of course the same could be said of Poison, or Kiss). No doubt he was a rock star, mind you, in that rock star way that seems to be becoming extinct. But he was a different sort of guy, a little older when he came into his own, a little smarter and a lot more reflective than most. Empathy. Sort of a rock star for everybody, not some deity who seemed to be an extraterrestrial, despite his fine rendering of "All-American Alien Boy" on Sunday. He was somebody whose music struck a chord with me. It's no accident that he wrote Cleveland Rocks, probably better known today as the "Theme from Drew Carey", sending out the love to the people who live between the East and West coasts, where he no doubt did a lot of his touring through the years.
It was not until recently that I read his Mott the Hoople Tour Chronicle--Diary of a Rock and Roll Star. Is it a great read? I don't think so personally, because life on the road isn't scripted like a reality show. It's boring, tedious, waiting around between shows. Traveling from one town to the next, scouring pawn shops for gear, worrying about the ticket sales, and whether they would grab the golden ring dangling before them. But is an important read because it is a warts and all story, and not from the vantage point of a teenager but of a married rock n roller in his early 30's. However as a warts and all study he makes some pointed comments about the Music Biz and also about American Culture worth hearing.
Before I went to the show I was listening to a live recording of his in Oslo from 2003, Strings Attached. It is quite different from the other live album from my younger days. More reflective, nostalgic, and of course filled with strings. It is a terrific album but but it felt a bit like a final retrospective. I wasn't sure which Ian Hunter band I would be seeing on this night---the show from 2003 or perhaps a harder rocking set not unlike Welcome to the Club? After all, I knew he was not a young guy. Turns out he turned 72 this year!
Well, though I didn't think that he would disappoint, I would have to say that Ian and his band rocked pretty damned hard that night, maybe not climb into a time machine and become 35 again energetic, but very very good. And while I like his ballads, his big hits pack a visceral wallop, some of my favorite songs of the pre-Punk 70's. You know, like All The Way From Memphis, a great hard rock update of Chuck Berry rock. A great raucous party tune, as are tunes like Once Bitten Twice Shy, and Roll Away The Stone. Naturally the mega hit All The Young Dudes was performed. But he played songs throughout his career, including Alice, a Mott song from 38 years ago that wasn't often done live, because at the time he said he couldn't sing and play the chords at the same time. I know some people were probably disappointed that certain songs did not make the set list, but he has so many songs. He did come out for two encores before it was "Goodnight Irene".
Ian played guitar and electric piano, and he still has that rock star swagger, that gravitas---was he born with it, or did he pick it up along the way? The band was very very good, which included the great drummer Steve Holley, James Mastro, and Jack Petruzelli. They all looked like they were having a great time, and Ian, being an old-school entertainer, did not disappoint. He performed with a lot of heart and soul--this did not feel at all like a nostalgic set. I'm very glad I bought a ticket.
The warmup act was actually quite excellent. What was funny was that I got into the theatre just after they introduced him. I didn't know who he was. But when I go to a show I am always respectful of performers. Just because I don't know who they are and did not come specifically to see them doesn't mean that they might not be fantastic! They could be better than the opening act. And thankfully it was not some second tier glam band--I hate it when you have a bunch of bands playing together who sound the same. I went to a Fishbone concert in Poughkeepsie a few years back, and they must have corralled every punk-ska band in a three state area to open for them. It's just ridiculous to beat people up like that. Of course Fishbone came out and did a righteously booty shaking set--(a documentary on them is coming out as I type!)
I would say he was a folk guy. He looked like somebody's dad. He reminded me of Alan Ruck, the guy who played Ferris Bueller's friend as a teenager. But he played a fairly mean guitar and his songs seemed to contain some jazzy complicated chords. In a word, he was quite good, though the themes of his songs were kind of suburban, whimsical, mature. Vocally, he reminded me of Elvis Costello, and he was talented enough for me to realize that he was bona fide. And he was funny, though there were idiots talking while he was playing, people wanting him to shut up, play his damn songs, because his presence on stage was preventing us from seeing Mr Hunter and co. I wish that behavior was less typical. Toward the conclusion of his set, Eleanor Friedberger of The Fiery Furnaces came out an performed a song that they written together. Not so shabby, after all?
Turns out the opener act was John Wesley Harding, a folk rocker in the style of a Billy Bragg, who was an up and coming artist in the late 80's. Turns out he recently put a new one out, The Sound of His Own Voice.
From what I heard, it must be pretty good. He did a funny song called There's a Starbucks where the Starbucks Used to Be, and another song called Uncle Dad, which I think has to do with being a divorced father and being on the periphery of the daily lives of his children. I enjoyed the songs and his humorous onstage patter, which often involved his 5 year old daughter. Turns out he is also Wesley Stace, author of three novels which seem to be pretty well received. I plan to read one of them very soon.
So I thoroughly enjoyed myself that night, getting a nice set from a former folk rock sensation, and saw rock and roll royalty in the flesh. I wish I could see more shows like this--they are hard to forget.
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