People imagine that I have a glamorous job, that I show up at 6:00 in the evening, sip a glass of champagne with the star of the evening’s show, shake some hands in the Carlton Lounge, and I am home by 8:30. Of course, that’s the fantasy job we all wish we had. The truth is that I work in an office and my day is more like your day than you realize. My day is budgeting, finance, politics, human relations, raising money, spending money, and buying and selling a product. The only difference is that the product I sell is, sometimes, kind of interesting and elevating.
My days are frequently more aggravating than anyone imagines, but once in a while there’s an evening that makes up for it, that will wipe away the last several weeks of BS, and is such an emotional high that it will carry me and the staff through a few more weeks of BS.
Sometimes these are the arts and cultural events that distinguish the Basie in our community, the performances that nobody else would be making possible in our community. But sometimes the event that provides that emotional high is a concert or performance that seems too obvious. There’s a formality to an opera or a dance company or a symphony performance. Even if the performance is spectacular, there’s a printed program, so you know what’s coming, but pop music and comedy performances, often you don’t know what’s coming next, and some nights, it’s a lot of fun to watch the audience reaction when the next song starts and they begin to recognize it.
Often (not always, but often) I’ve seen a set list so I know what’s coming before the audience does, and it’s kind of fun to look the set list over and think, “Ooh, that’s interesting… Oh, they’re going to like that one…”
Last night we had Roger Daltrey. It was quite a thrill just to book that show, because really, in the history of rock and roll, how many singers are of comparable historic and artistic stature? Mick Jagger and Robert Plant of course, and even though there wasn’t just a single lead singer, the Beatles of course, but past those artists, who’s comparable? Not many.
The show was great. He played several of his own songs, a Johnny Cash medley to satisfy his own soul, a set of songs from the Who catalogue that we all wanted to hear, and several songs from the Who catalogue that, as he explained to us, the Who just doesn’t do in the context of a quote-unquote “Who show.” It was a rather magnificent and special evening.
At one point in between songs someone down front said something about Woodstock, and he turned and said, “Oh yeah? I was at Woodstock too!” and the affection in his voice was clear. It wasn’t pompous or arrogant, it was as if he understood the absurdity of Roger Daltrey saying, “Oh yeah? I was at Woodstock too.” And yet, he couldn’t help himself because it was kind of funny.
But there was Roger Daltrey on our stage. The Pinball Wizard himself, who really did provide one of the highlights of Woodstock, and the Concert for New York just a few years ago, and so many other generational turning points. Roger Daltrey! The guy who sang, “Hope I die before I get old,” 65 years old and looking more fit than anyone in the audience half his age.
There are little alcoves to the left and right of the stage, and if you position yourself just right in there in the dark, you can watch the audience with an unobstructed view of almost the entire house, orchestra and balcony, and every time a new song started, it was a lot of fun to watch people turn to each other with high fives and looks of pure pleasure. “Yes! He really IS going play this song! And right now as a matter of fact, and we’re here to see it!”
When it was time for “Baba O’Riley” he turned the microphone to the audience for the chorus: “Don’t cry, don’t raise your eye, it’s only teenage wasteland,” and of course it’s impossible not to note the absurdity of an overtly middle age audience singing those particular lines back at the singer who sang them in the first place. However, it’s now the fourth verse that carries the song for this audience: “The exodus is here, the happy ones are near, let’s get together, before we get much older.”
Music and art are how we come together, and absurd or not to be a middle aged man or woman singing about teenage wasteland, once upon a time those lines were written for that generation about that generation, and that song and a handful of others defined that generation. The only thing that could have made the evening any better would be if the songwriter himself (Pete Townshend of course) was here too. But we had the singer, and we had the song, and it happened right under our roof, in our temple of music and theatre and dance, and we were happy to bring it to you for the evening, as we will continue to do, because making it possible for the singer and the audience is the emotional high that will carry us to the next one.
