What Not To Wear--Sports Edition

A little countdown of the ugliest uniforms in the world of sports...

10) Cleveland Cavaliers (NBA)
I never could figure out what the Cavs were trying to accomplish with these black, teal, orange (and whatever other colors they threw in) numbers with streaks and stripes in them after abandoning their cool orange and gold uniforms of the '70s and '80s.  Thankfully, the LeBron James era ushered in some much nicer burgundy, blue and gold threads...










9) Seattle Seahawks (NFL)
Is that actually a color?!?  'Hawks fans have complained vehemently for the last six years about these nasty-looking threads, and I don't blame them.  I always thought their original royal blue and green uniforms with the silver helmets were much cooler...












8) Pittsburgh Pirates (MLB)
I loved the late Willie Stargell to death, but was totally embarrassed for him when he had to wear these canary-yellow convict get-ups complete with the pill-box hats.  Sometimes nostalgia can go too far...













7) Philadelphia Eagles throwbacks (NFL)
The sad irony here is Donovan McNabb and the Iggles had their best game of the 2007 season when they wore these travesties...






6) Washington Capitals (NHL)
After the Charlotte Hornets of the NBA came along, teal was all the rage and every other sports team adopted the color for their uniforms, including the once red-white-and-blue Caps of the NHL.  I didn't mind the color so much as the gaudy over-sized numerals on the backs of the Caps' uni's.  Thankfully, Washington came to their senses and re-embraced the red-white-and-blue color scheme last season.


5) Memphis Tams (ABA)
Oakland A's owner Charlie Finley also owned the ABA's Memphis Tams franchise, and insisted on outfitting them in the same green and yellow colors as the A's.  Unfortunately, they also were outfitted with matching Sears Toughskins pants!






4) Cleveland Force (MISL)
Who was the inspiration behind these uniforms—Big Bird?!?  You almost needed sunglasses to watch these guys play!
















3) Houston Rockets (NBA)
Pinstripes gone bad!  The "Round Mound Of Rebound" Charles Barkley looked especially silly in these hideous uniforms that the Rockets sported in the late '90s.  I never understood why they replaced their very cool red and gold uni's, but at least they came to their senses and at least went back to red to usher in the Yao Ming era.







2) Oregon Ducks football (NCAA)
Talk about fugly!  Yellow should never be the primary color in any team's uniforms.  Then they added the gaudy numbers and silly looking trim around the shoulders and knees to make things worse.












1) Orlando Thunder (WLAF)
Neon green is far and away the ugliest color in the world to me.  It is to me what Kryptonite was to Superman—I can't bear to look at it!  The Chicago White Sox had a "Neon Green Cap" night against the Royals on the TV, and I had to turn it off after seeing all those goomers seated behind home plate wearing these gnarly-looking things!

My deepest condolences...

...go out to fellow traveller/blogger and frequent commentator to this blog, Dr. Sardonicus, whose wife Peggy passed away today at age 48--done way too soon. Please join me, my good friends and readers, in sending out heartfelt sympathies to the good Doctor and his family. It's been a sad week around these parts...

Give Peas A Chance

MORE CARLIN-ISMS
It occurred to me yesterday that hardly a day goes by where I’m not reminded of one of George Carlin’s witticisms during everyday activities.  Like anytime someone says “Have a nice day!”, my brain automatically clicks on “Yeah, yeah—will you gimme my fucking change, please?” or whenever I leave my car radio cranked up when I turn off the motor at night, then start it up the next day and “the goddamned radio is THIS LOUD!!!” or when someone says they’re going to take a piss or shit—“you don’t take ‘em, you leave ‘em!”  Every time I read about anti-abortion zealots, I’m reminded of “You ever notice how most of the people who are against abortion are people you wouldn’t wanna fuck in the first place?...There’s such balance in nature…”  And every time I see a lacrosse match on TV, I chuckle when I think of George’s declaration that lacrosse is “a faggot college activity”.  The man was more prevalent than I ever gave him credit for.  So long, George, and thanks for the laughs, my man…

IT’S HARD TO BE HUMBLE…
…and for Gene Simmons, it’s damn near impossible.  As if his “Family Jewels” show doesn’t inflate his insatiable ego enough, A&E viewers were subjected to the “Gene Simmons Roast” last night.  In best Dean Martin style, his royal Gene-ness held court sitting on his throne (wearing his gargoyle Kiss platforms, no less) and was fêted by such luminaries as Carrot Top, Danny Bonaduce and Andrew “Dice” Clay—is that a nightmare panel, or what?  Tell me again—how is it I once came to idolize this man…

Speaking of the Dean Martin roasts, have you seen the infomercials for the DVDs of those old crapfests featuring Tim Conway?  I remember watching them when I was a kid, and they seemed kinda cool at the time, but watching them now makes me cringe when I see the forced laughter from people like Jimmie Walker and Phyllis Diller and hear the hackneyed jokes these people told, all of which was obviously fueled by copious amounts of alky-hol.  As for Conway’s infomercials, I’ll say it again:  if you need 30 minutes to convince me to buy something, I probably don’t want it…

FROM THE DEPT. OF REDUNDANCY DEPT.
You’ve no doubt seen these ads on TV featuring some elderly woman sitting by a swimming pool informing us that as of February, 2009, TVs that aren’t digital won’t be able to receive broadcast signals of over-the-air TV stations.  “TVs that are hooked up to cable will be just fine…” she says.  Dumb question, but why are these commercials running on cable networks?!?  People who already have cable need not be concerned with this—it’s those folks who haven’t joined the 21st century and gotten cable or satellite (like my old man, for instance) who they should be talking to here.

PERRRRY INTERESTING!
I coulda swore that cloning was still illegal, but I was reading in the paper today about the just-announced Journey concert here in K.C. in September, and it appears Neal Schon and the boys have unearthed yet another Steve Perry clone, one Arnel Pineda, to replace their first SP clone, Steve Augeri.  I have yet to hear Pineda, but they say he sounds just like Perry.  Augeri sounded uncomfortably close to Perry too, and even looked a lot like him—“Steve Perry with a perm”, as someone deemed him.

As for the real Steve Perry, every time I see that awful “Oh, Sherrie” video, I cringe a little.  That was his actual girlfriend Sherrie in the video, and I’ve often wondered if that video led to their break-up.  Or maybe she decided not to marry him to spare herself from being known as Sherrie Perry…

WORLD’S DUMBEST TV COMMERCIAL(S)
Or at least one of them. For no particular reason, I was reminded the other day of these really lame Levi’s Dockers commercials from the early ‘90s that featured a bunch of yuppie cocksuckers (all from the waist down) carrying on some inane group conversation about nothing and ending with the catchphrase, “Relax, you’re among friends…”  What the filth-flarn-filth does this have to do with cheap-ass un-durable friggin’ casual dress pants?  I wore those things to work and they lasted about as long as Chevy Chase’s talk show before the crotches wore out.

THANKS, BUT I WANTED A BUD LIGHT…
Not an InBev Light!  I don’t get this whole hostile takeover stuff, like where this Belgian brewer InBev that wants to buy Anheuser-Busch out from under itself.  Does Busch want to be bought?  Doesn’t sound like it to me.  Take your waffles and go back to Belgium, you yutzes!

CLASSIC OLD-SCHOOL STORE CHAIN #3
Remember these guys?  U-Totem was more or less the poor man’s 7-Eleven or QuikTrip back in the ‘70s.  We had just a handful of them around here, but I liked them more because they sold Topps hockey cards and 7-Eleven didn’t!






ANOTHER 10-IN-A-ROW MUSIC SWEEP…
…on KOMT, Holland’s Comet Radio—All B-Stuff All The Time!  Here’s a sample hour from my iPod’s playlist yesterday:

—“One World (Not Three)”—THE POLICE (1981)
—“My Gang”—CHEAP TRICK (1994)
—“Cool Dry Place”—TRAVELING WILBURYS (1991)
—“I’m The One”—VAN HALEN (1978)
—“Space Truckin’”—DEEP PURPLE (1972)
—“Boys In The Band”—THE RAIDERS (1970)
—“Parasite”—KISS (1974)
—“Hooked On A Feeling”—BLUE SWEDE (1974)
—“Here Comes The Feeling”—ASIA (1982)
—“Avenging Annie”—ROGER DALTREY (1977)

“B-Stuff” doesn’t refer to the quality of the music—most of these are A’s in my book—but rather it refers to songs I love but rarely (if ever) hear anywhere unless I play them myself.  Best of all, it’s all commercial-free and no deejays, either.  Just as well, most of today’s radio jocks can’t count to ten anyway.  I have over 700 songs loaded and my iPod is almost packed to the gills now.  Go figure:  six months ago, I didn’t even want an iPod, and now I want a bigger one!

LOST CLASSIC #3
“One Fine Morning”—LIGHTHOUSE (1971)  Oldies stations and classic Rock stations stopped playing this record song decades ago, and that’s a shame—it’s a cool song!  Some people even confused Canada's Lighthouse for Chicago, with its ever-present horn section, while other people confused them with Edison Lighthouse of “Love Grows (Where My Rosemary Goes)” fame.  I always thought late lead singer Bob McBride sounded a lot like fellow Canuck Burton Cummings of the Guess Who.  You can find “One Fine Morning” on Rhino’s ‘Have a Nice Day’, Vol. 6 compilation.

LOST CLASSIC #4
“That Hypnotizin’ Boogie”—DAVID WILCOX (1985)  This one’s a little more obscure.  Also from the Great White North, Mr. Wilcox is not to be confused with an American folk singer of the same name.  I first heard "Boogie" on the radio during my visit to Toronto in 1994 and instantly fell in love with the song.  I can best describe it as Warren Zevon meets George Thorogood with a little bit of Stevie Ray Vaughan thrown in.  Wilcox sounds very Zevon-ish vocally, and very much like Lonesome George and S.R.V. on the raw and wonderfully sloppy slide guitar, and has some of Rick Nielsen's mannerisms on-stage.  This live performance is pretty good, but the original studio recording is even better.  As the song itself says, “everybody got to have a hypnotizin’ boogie kind of sound…”  Wish I could tell you where to get it, but I'm not sure now.  I pirated it—er uh, borrowed it off the 'Net before the Great MP3 Embargo five years ago.  Good stuff, Maynard...

THAT’S JUST DANDY!
Best band name I’ve heard of in a while: The Dandy Warhols.

Black Monday

GEORGE CARLIN, 1937-2008
Like many of you, my day got off to a bad start with the news of the passing of comedian George Carlin last night of heart failure in Santa Monica, CA.  We’ve lost a true icon, and his imprint is readily apparent all over this blog, as he heavily influenced both the way I write and even the way I talk sometimes.  Although I’m trying to avoid becoming the curmudgeon that he was in his later years, I’ve adopted a lot of Carlin’s attitudes (especially about religious phoniness) over time, and his impact on me is immeasurable.  I think what sets GC apart from most comedians is in addition to being funny, the man made you think.  It’s eerily ironic that George passed away near the "scene of the crime", so to speak, where he recorded his most famous routine, "The Seven Dirty Words…" at the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium in 1972.  Truth be known, he didn’t have to rely on the use of profanity—he was plenty funny without it as evidenced on his rather obscure Take-offs & Put-ons album (recorded during the Johnson administration).  About the dirtiest word Carlin used there was "broad", and it’s a damn funny record.  And yes, George is the man I learned profanity from in the first place, for better or worse, and he used it to great effect in punctuating his routines without overdoing it—i.e., every other word wasn’t "fuck" or "motherfucker" like with Eddie Murphy or Chris Rock.

The first thing I thought of when I heard George "passed on" (as he preferred saying instead of "died") was a bit he did on death and dying from about 30 years ago.  I wondered if George got his Two-Minute Warning ("Two minutes—get your shit together…") and I wondered if he made arrangements to forego the whole funeral/cremation thing and be "blown up", per his wishes.  George once even poked fun at the very condition that caused his death in a bit he called the "Comedians' Health Sweepstakes":  "Currently, I lead Richard Pryor in heart attacks, two-to-one.  But Richard leads me one-to-nothing in burning yourself up!"  At least Carlin's passing was swift and we're spared of seeing him waste away before our eyes as in Pryor's case.

Carlin (along with the late John Entwistle) is one of my few idols whom I actually got to meet in the flesh, and he was very gracious in autographing my concert program that night.  George also indirectly saved the day for me one snowed-in New Year’s Eve back in the mid ‘80s.  I was really bummed because I wanted to go out and party, but the weather outside was frightful, so I wound up staying in, and thankfully, HBO ran several of Carlin’s hour-long specials in succession that night, and he nearly had me on the floor at times.  Even though I’ve heard his routines from his old albums a thousand times and know most of them verbatim, some of them still make me laugh out loud to this day.  Stuff like when he lamented having "no ass at all" as a teen and having a black dude come up to him and say, "Say, baby, where your ass at?  My man ain’t got no ass!  How do you hold them pants up, man?"  Or how about a new cartoon character:  "Who are you?  I am Fuck!  Fuck of the Mountain!  Tune in again next week to ‘Fuck of the Mountain’!"  Or sports teams:  "I’m tired of Panthers and Tigers and Wildcats…I’d like to root for the Cincinnati Mice!...Any animal that’s alive ought to be eligible to be (named) for a team—the Seattle Sperm…Texas Tumors…how about the Kansas City Crabs? ‘Well, the Crabs are all over the Cowboys today…"  His dog bits were especially funny, too.  "Anybody got one of those little dogs?  One of those over-bred dogs?  The kind that just shakes and pisses all the time..."

The DJ who delivered the bad news today suggested something cool, too—next time you open a fresh loaf of bread and start digging through it to get to the "good bread", think of George.  By extension, next time you’re on an escalator and notice the hand rail moving just a little faster than the thing you’re standing on or find that "one weird piece of bacon" underneath all those neat horizontal strips, or maybe pass by the St. Louis Home For The Totally Fucked, think of George.  Another favorite routine was "Ed Sullivan, Self-Taught" from the FM & AM album where George lamented that there was no official finale to the "Ed Sullivan Show" because it was cancelled while in reruns and no one got a chance to say, "Thanks, Ed!  No kidding, man, thanks for all those crazy acts and all those years…" and sadly we didn’t get a chance to collectively thank George Carlin, although it was just announced that he was to receive an award named after Mark Twain for his lifetime achievements in humor.  All I can think to do is paraphrase Carlin himself from that routine and say, "(It’s) A little maudlin, gang, but thanks, George!"

Here’s my original official tribute to George from last year on his 70th birthday.

WITH A NOD TOWARD TO THE DEARLY-DEPARTED…
…I made this Carlin-esque observation over the weekend while watching TV news coverage of the flooding on the Mississippi:  Why is it that rivers on road maps are shown in blue?  Rivers are brown!  Okay, lakes and oceans are blue (or green), but I’ve never seen a blue river, not even the one I cross every day on the way to work and back that's called the Blue River!  Which of course, reminds me of Carlin’s burning question:  "Why is there no blue food?  Blueberries are purple…there’s no blue food, man!"

THEY CALL ME MISTER JONES!
Evidently, chronic NFL miscreant Adam "Pacman" Jones is insisting that the media refer to him as just plain Adam Jones, as only his mother and his teammates are allowed to call him by his video game moniker.  This fucker has a rap sheet on him that stretches from Maine to Maui, and all he’s worried about is what people in the media call him?  They can call him "Donkey Kong" Jones for all I care—it’s not going to change the fact that he’s first-class moron…

SPEAKING OF FIRST-CLASS MORONS...
The great Don Imus is in hot water again over racially-charged remarks he made on his new radio show today about Pacman Jones.  Apparently, during a discussion on his show about Jones' numerous arrests, Imus had to ask, "What color is he?"  When told that Jones is "African-American", Dickhead Don responded, "There you go. Now we know."  And now of course, Al Sharpton is already into full-goose-bozo race-baiter mode, but we won't get into that now...

My issue here is about how pathetically uninformed Imus is.  You don't even have to be much of a sports fan to know what color Pacman Jones is, and unless you've been living in a cave like Osama bin Laden for the past couple years, surely you'd have seen him in the headlines a few times.  One would expect a nationally-syndicated radio host like Imus be a tad more well-rounded than this, but then again, this is the same man who had to ask a couple years ago if Johnny Unitas was still alive.  I bet even bin Laden knows what color Pacman Jones is...

COULD YOU BE JUST A BIT MORE SUBTLE?
I damn near ran my car off the road the other morning when I heard race driver Danica Patrick on a radio commercial say, "A lot of people ask me what it takes to get under my hood…"  Whoa, Nellie!  This reminds of the old E-Z Off TV ad that comedian Gallagher once mentioned about the gal laying in bed proudly proclaiming "I’m cleaning my oven!"  He said, "Her hands are under the covers—you figure it out…"

THE TIMES, THEY ARE A-CHANGIN'
In a sure sign of the apocalypse, I was stunned the other day to discover that my little podunk conservative-Christian-dominated suburb of Raytown, MO now has a fetish-wear store!  This is no mean feat considering how the Baptists own half the friggin' city, and once blocked the opening of a bar because it was located too close to one of their churches.  Never mind that half the congregation would have patronized it...

THROW THE BABY OUT WITH THE BATH WATER—PLEASE!
I’ve grown weary of yet another advertising icon (for lack of a better word), the creepy E-Trader.com talking baby.  These ads weren’t all that funny to begin with, and now they’re running them into the ground not unlike the Geico gecko ads.  At least Budweiser knows "when to say when", so to speak, and not wear their ad campaigns out, like the Spuds McKenzie thing, the lizards/ferret series and their "skunky beer" ads, et al.  If they remain true-to-form, those lame "Dude!" ads should disappear soon…

THEY DIDN'T BOBBLE THE BOBBLEHEADS THIS TIME...
It was Alex Gordon bobblehead night at the Royals game at Kauffman Stadium the other night.  Fortunately, Big Al's surname was correctly spelled on the ones the Royals gave away, unlike these little numbers in the photo given away a couple years back by their AAA affiliate in Omaha.  Not only did they misspell the man's last name, but he has yet to play an inning of baseball in Omaha!  It might have been appropriate for them to have Gordn Lightfoot sing the national anthem and NASCAR's Jeff Gordn to throw out the first pitch...

I'LL TAKE DOLLY PARTON SONGS FOR $100, ALEX...
The answer is:  A tune all about sloppy seconds. What is "Here You Come Again"?

D'OH! I GOT SAND IN MY TOES!
I don't know how these guys do this, but I'm most impressed...

Concert Trek - Episode 16

76) Jethro Tull/Emerson, Lake & Palmer (Saturday, September 14, 1996—Sandstone Amphitheater) Ticket price: $17.50

My older sister Renee’s favorite band of all is Emerson, Lake & Palmer, and she had seen them a few times back in the ‘70s when she was living in Virginia, and just raved about their concerts.  At best, I was a casual ELP fan, but I agreed to tag along with her and her two sons to this show, since I liked Jethro Tull a little more than ELP.  The crowd at this concert was a strange mix of old hippies and young Lollapaloozers, and being 33 at the time, I fit in there about like Chris Rock at a PTL Club prayer meeting.

Emerson, Lake & Palmer came on stage right around 8:00 and played.  That’s really about all they did—play.  They opened with “Hoedown” and followed with the 1986 Emerson, Lake & Powell hit, “Touch And Go”, which I was quite surprised to hear.  There was no spark to their performance at all, and it was as if they were going through the motions.  Even Keith Emerson doing his trademark rocking of his keyboard stack seemed forced.  Renee was quite disappointed in their set and remarked, “technically they’re great musicians, but there’s no passion here.”  Hell, they didn’t even play “Karn Evil 9” (AKA “Welcome Back My Friends To The Show That Never Ends…), and “Lucky Man” sounded very flat.  I’ll just have to go by my sister’s word that ELP was once a great concert attraction back in the day, because they sucked a big one on this night.

Ian Anderson and Jethro Tull hit the stage 30 minutes later and opened with “Aqualung”, with Anderson literally “sitting on a park bench”.  He waved his trademark flute around like a magic wand when he wasn’t playing it, and was surprisingly affable as the show’s emcee.  Remarks like “Between us and ELP, our collective ages now exceed 300 years,” helped Anderson quickly establish a nice rapport with the audience, and he also made sure to acknowledge his longtime guitarist, Martin Barre.  Unfortunately, about midway through the set, he quit talking to the crowd altogether and the band morphed from Jethro Tull into Jethro Dull, as they played a bunch of songs I’d never even heard of.  They finished with “Locomotive Breath”, followed by “Cross-Eyed Mary”, neither of which sounded very good, and I was very disappointed with the set list as a whole.  There was no “Living In The Past”, no “Teacher” (my favorite Tull song), no “Bungle In The Jungle”, not even “Heavy Horses” or anything from that 1988 Grammy Award-winning heavy metal album Crest Of A Knave (which I rather liked).  To be fair, having just recently attended two excellent Kiss concerts (including one just four days earlier), most anything would have been a comedown after that, but this was one of the rare times I almost couldn’t wait for a concert to end.

77) Kiss/*Outhouse (Wednesday, April 16, 1997—Kansas Expocentre, Topeka) Ticket price: $33.50
(*=Did not see this act perform)

Since I was denied the opportunity to see Kiss during the height of their popularity in 1977 by my father, I wasn’t about to pass up the chance to see them 20 years later as often as I could, and I was delighted to hear that the Hottest Band In The World would be dropping by the capital city in the Land of Oz.  They added another leg to their massively-successful Reunion Tour called the “Lost Cities” tour, wherein they hit some of the smaller markets in the States.  Gotta give it up to these guys—no town is too small for them to play in, whereas most big-name bands would blow off playing gigs in places like Duluth, Fargo and Topeka.  Ain’t that right, Sting?

Topeka was a mere hour’s drive after I got off work that day, and I very much enjoyed one feature of the Kansas Expocentre—the free parking!  Wichita’s Kansas Coliseum also doesn’t charge you to park, and that is so refreshing in this day and age.  This was my second Kiss concert at the Expocentre (AKA Alf Landon Arena), which seats about 8,000, and just like Wichita in September, there were a surprising amount of empty seats in the place.  Good thing too, because my assigned seat sucked anyway, so I found a nice spot upstairs on Ace Frehley’s end of the stage.  The view I had was excellent, but for some reason, from where I sat, it wasn’t very loud.  There was also a squirmy little kid in the row in front of me who kept standing in the aisle and blocking my view.  I found this spooky, by the way—18 years before, I had to have my parents drop me off and pick me up at my first Kiss concert, yet at this show, you had parents bringing their kids with them!  Anyway, after about eight songs of the kid annoying me, I relocated to a cozy little two-seat row in the back of the hall against the wall.  Was pleased to discover that the back wall was made out of that acoustic material with the holes in it like they use in phone booths, and it felt like the sound was being pulled toward me and bouncing off the walls—i.e. much louder and more enjoyable!

Also like Wichita, Kiss started off sluggishly, but built momentum as they went along.  They shuffled the set list around a bit since last time, moving “Let Me Go, Rock ‘N’ Roll” up to the third slot and “Firehouse” to fifth.  There were a couple new (and welcome) additions, namely “I Was Made For Lovin’ You” and an old favorite, “C’mon And Love Me”, which both sounded great.  Kiss also added a new wrinkle to the show since Wichita, in the form of a small stage at the opposite end of the arena floor that Paul Stanley was transported to via a cable rig during “Love Gun”.  Stanley’s voice was in top form, although his humor fell a little flat.  Following Ace’s guitar solo, PS tried to make light of the recent “Heaven’s Gate” suicide tragedy by saying, “You know, about a month ago, 39 people took a trip to see a spaceship.  You people have just met a spaceman!”  Let’s hear it for “Funny Man Paul”, ladies and gentlemen!  Gene Simmons must’ve had a heavy dinner, since he heaved up a heapin’ helpin’ of blood before “God Of Thunder”.  Peter Criss was solid on the skins, as usual, although his body language indicated he seemed a little bored at times.  Apart from a faulty panel on the video screen, this was yet another well-executed and outstanding show from my favorite band in the woyld.

On the way home, it occurred to me that I’d been to three Kiss concerts with the original lineup in less than 10 months, so I decided that this officially made up for all those times I missed out on seeing them when I was 12, and I even managed to let go of a lot of that anger over that.  It also dawned on me that Arena Rock was once again alive and well, so they could take all those lame-o wanna-bes from the ‘90s like Soundgarden, Dishwalla, Spin Doctors, Stone Temple Pilots, Korn, Limp Bizkit, Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Silverchair, Marilyn Manson, The Wallflowers, Hootie & The Blowfish, et al, and flush them down my toilet!  This was real Rock ‘N’ Roll that I enjoyed that night, the way it should be done!

SET LIST:  Deuce/King Of The Nighttime World/Let Me Go, Rock 'N' Roll/Do You Love Me?/Firehouse/Watchin' You/Shock Me/Calling Dr. Love/Shout It Out Loud/Cold Gin/Love Gun/C'Mon And Love Me/I Was Made For Lovin' You/God Of Thunder/New York Groove/ 100,000 Years/Black Diamond  ENCORES:  Detroit Rock City/Beth/Rock And Roll All Nite

78) Rush (Saturday, June 7, 1997—Sandstone Amphitheater) Ticket price: $19.50

In addition to Emerson, Lake & Palmer, Rush is another favorite of my sister Renee's, and she more or less turned me on to the band around 1979, so I decided to once again tag along with her and her sons to see our friends from the Great White North again.  My first Rush concert in 1981 was not a particularly good one (see Concert Trek – Episode 2), so this was their opportunity to redeem themselves, and darned if they didn’t—they most definitely weren't hosers this time…

With no opening act, Rush began promptly at sunset, opening with “Dreamline” from 1993's Roll The Bones.  This show was much better (and far louder) than the one I saw at Kemper Arena in ’81.  Geddy Lee was also much chattier between songs than he was that time and actually spoke to the crowd beyond just his usual “Thank you, very much” and “Goodnight!”  Utilizing a huge video screen similar to the Kiss Jumbotron, the show was done in two halves, with a 15-minute intermission in between.  The first half was comprised of old favorites like “Limelight”, “The Trees” and “Red Barchetta”, as well as some newer stuff from Counterparts and Test For Echo, and to my surprise, every last minute of their 1976 album-side-long epic “2112”.

The second half song selection was a bit weaker with stuff like “Natural Science” from Permanent Waves and the instrumental “Leave That Thing Alone” from Counterparts, but “Red Sector A” and “Force Ten” were highlights, as well as Neil Peart’s highly-entertaining drum solo.  The man never ceases to amaze me with the toys he finds to bang on and make noises with, not to mention his stamina in playing such a lengthy show at such a high level.  Rush wrapped up the show with “Spirit Of Radio” and “Tom Sawyer”, followed by a quick run-through of 1981's “YYZ” instrumental for an encore.  I was a tad disappointed they didn’t play anything from Signals or Power Windows—my two favorite Rush LPs—but even in a three-hour show, they can’t play everything!  Rush has enough good material in their catalog that they could play several three-hour shows in succession without repeating any songs.  Jolly good show, gentlemen—goodnight, eh?

SET LIST:  Dreamline/Limelight/Stick It Out/Driven/Half The World/Red Barchetta/ Animate/Limbo/The Trees/Virtuality/Nobody's Hero/Closer To The Heart/2112 -Intermission- Test For Echo/Free Will/Red Sector A/Roll The Bones/Resist/Leave That Thing Alone/Neil Peart drum solo/Natural Science/Force Ten/Spirit Of Radio/Tom Sawyer  ENCORE:  YYZ

79) Styx/Pat Benatar (Saturday, June 14, 1997—Sandstone Amphitheater) Ticket price: $18.00

The summer of ’97 turned out to be an abnormally busy one, concert-wise, and I found myself back at Sandstone for the second straight Saturday for another concert featuring some ‘80s favorites, this time with my friends Tom and Sean.

I mistakenly thought the show started at 8:00 instead of 7:30, so when we arrived, Pat Benatar was already on-stage.  She opened with “Shadows On The Night” followed by the Blondie-esque “We Live For Love”, which ended just as we staked our claim on our plot of land in the lawn section.  To my utter disappointment, Pat looked like shit, frankly—nothing like in this photo.  She was dressed in slacker garb, which included these hideous gaudy green pants.  She had put on a couple pounds since the '80s, but geez, she didn’t need to hide it that badly!  Pat didn’t prowl the stage like she used to, either, choosing to just stand in one place all night and sing.  Her voice sounded like shit too, and she didn’t even try to hit that night note during “Promises In The Dark”.  Apart from her husband, Neil Giraldo, Pat had an entirely new band this time too, which included a chick keyboardist who doubled on the violin, and she was dressed even gaudier than Benatar, wearing an ugly green shirt and some pants that reminded me of my old Sears Toughskins that I wore in 2nd grade!  Who was the wardrobe manager for this tour, Urkel?!?

It almost looked at times like Benatar and the band were still rehearsing, and this was a very disappointing set all the way around, beset with technical problems with Giraldo’s amp throughout, too.  They also did a crappy rendition of “Hit Me With Your Best Shot”, during which Pat invited several air-headed girls from the audience up on stage to sing the chorus.  Thankfully, at least Pat didn’t try to re-create the choreography from the “Love Is A Battlefield” video!  I knew going in that we wouldn’t see the sexy Spandex-clad wet dream-inducing Pat Benatar of yore, but I was still hoping we’d see a polished and vibrant Pat Benatar of 1997.  Instead, we got the over-the-hill version.  How the mighty had fallen…

SET LIST:  Shadows Of The Night/We Live For Love/Only You/True Love/Strawberry Wine/Hit Me With Your Best Shot/Love Is A Battlefield/Hell Is For Children/River Of Love/Heartbreaker  ENCORE:  Promises In The Dark

A brief set change ensued and Styx saved the day by playing a solid set of hits.  This show wasn’t quite the spectacular they used to put on back in the ‘80s, but more of a stripped-down version of the Paradise Theater tour, which was still quite entertaining, and it almost seemed like Tommy Shaw had never left the band for Damn Yankees.  Dennis DeYoung’s between-song banter was rather humorous at times with his recollections of the old days when they opened for David Bowie at their first Kansas City area gig in 1972 at Memorial Hall.  He also joked about the time when Shaw joined the band, “Tommy was about nine, then, I think…”  Shaw worked well in tandem with stalwart guitarist James “J.Y.” Young, as they traded solos throughout the night.  Sadly, bassist Chuck Panozzo seemed a little out of sorts without his recently-deceased twin brother John behind the drums.  New drummer Todd Sucherman proved to be a very capable replacement, though, and the band paid tribute to their fallen comrade with a new song called “Dear John”.

The set list included many of their biggies like “Too Much Time On My Hands”, “Lady” and “Miss America”, plus the long-overdue return of one of my favorite Styx songs, “Lorelei”.  About midway through, the band settled down to do a rather weak “unplugged” set, which was all the rage at the time, and they did the first verse of “Crystal Ball”, then the first verse of “Man In The Wilderness”, etc.  Plug it back in, already!  [Yes, I realize the whole “Unplugged” trend is what led to the Kiss reunion and all, but I hated that crap!  To me, acoustic guitar is the equivalent of black-and-white TV and should be used only in small doses.]  The show also included some cool lazers which were a nice touch, and it wrapped up with the usual closer, “Come Sail Away”, and I was quite pleased with their performance—this was a major upgrade over the last time we saw them on the dreaded Kilroy Was Here tour debacle.  Hmmm, I wonder why they didn't do any songs from that album...

Adding to the night’s fun were members of the audience which the three of us got a kick out of, especially this drunken bozo in front of us with his right leg in a cast hopping around on his good leg and waving his crutches around in the air.  We kept hoping that either lightning would strike his crutches or that he’d fuck up his bad leg (“I’ve never seen a compound fracture in person before…” I quipped), and the drunker this fool got, the funnier it was.  Hell, half the fun of going to concerts at that stage of my life was watching the people in the crowds acting a fool…

SET LIST:  The Grand Illusion/Too Much Time On My Hands/Lady/On My Way/Queen Of Spades/Snowblind/The Best Of Times/Crystal Ball/Man In The Wilderness/Show Me The Way/Dear John/Lorelei/Blue Collar Man/Paradise/Fooling Yourself/Babe/Miss America/ Rockin' The Paradise  ENCORES:  Kansas City/Come Sail Away/The Grand Illusion (reprise)

80) The Who/Ryan Downe (Saturday, July 19, 1997—Riverport Amphitheater, St. Louis) Ticket price: $45.00

Just when I thought we’d never see The Who play live again, they managed to resurrect themselves and do a tour.  With no Kansas City date on their Quadrophenia Tour, our next best bet was the Gateway City, so my sister and her two sons met up with me and my friend Tom.  This was my first and (so far) only visit to the House That Axl (Rose) Trashed, and I was rather underwhelmed by it.  Our seats were near the back of the seat section, and weren’t even under the friggin’ roof thereof, which sucked because it rained off and on throughout the night.  There was also a huge 15-yard chasm between the seats and the lawn area, and it looked to me as if the sightlines from the lawn were dreadful.  Some slacker named Ryan Downe was the opening act, and he was predictably unimpressive.

The ‘orrible ‘Oo hit the stage around 9:10, and did indeed play Quadrophenia in its entirety, as expected.  The show was aided and abetted by a video presentation that played periodically between songs featuring our friend Jimmy, the story’s protagonist, and his dialogue helped explain the plotline to the uninitiated.  Roger Daltrey was in fine voice and Pete Townshend seemed to actually enjoy playing this time, and he even split time between acoustic and electric guitar, in spite of his legendary hearing problems.  Pete even did windmills, which I thought might have ended in ’89 when he skewered his right hand on his whammy bar in Tacoma.  And then there was my man John Entwistle, who was his usual rock steady self, and The Ox’s bass solo during “5:15” nearly caused more damage to the house than Axl did.

The show was also augmented by two other singers, a Meat Loaf-ish guy named P.J. Proby who performed as “The Punk” and a Sting-ish guy named Brad Watkins who was the “Bell Boy”.  I could’ve done without them, and would’ve preferred to hear Roger and Pete do all the singing, but since Quad is a bit rigorous, I guess Daltrey needed the breather now and then.  Also in the band was Pete’s brother Simon Townshend on second guitar and backing vocals, and longtime Who sideman John “Rabbit” Bundrick on keyboards.  This was also my first live look at Ringo Starr’s little boy, Zac Starkey, on the drums and the kid was impressive—hell, da boy was better than his old man!  It took The Who nearly 20 years, but they finally found a suitable replacement for Keith Moon at long last.

The Quad portion of the show was outstanding, and I anticipated a whole lot more afterward, but the rest of the show turned out to be a big letdown.  Daltrey and Townshend returned to the stage and did a half-assed version of “Won’t Get Fooled Again” (no synthesizers, no drums, no bass and no climactic scream, either), with Entwistle and the rest of the group rejoining them for “Behind Blue Eyes”, “Substitute”, “I Can’t Explain” and “Who Are You”, with Pete playfully pretending to smash his guitar at the end.  And that was it.  No “My Generation”, no “Baba O’Riley”, and not even anything from Tommy.  They only played for a shade over two hours, and for my $45, I thought they could’ve played a bit longer, and I walked away from this one a tad disappointed.  The Quadrophenia section was superb, but the rest was sub-par from a band I expect a WHOle lot better from.

SET LIST:  The Real Me/Quadrophenia/Cut My Hair/The Punk And The Godfather /I'm One/The Dirty Jobs/Helpless Dancer/Is It In My Head?/I've Had Enough/5:15/Sea And Sand/Drowned/Bell Boy/Dr. Jimmy/The Rock/Love, Reign O'er Me  ENCORES:  Won't Get Fooled Again/Behind Blue Eyes/Substitute/I Can't Explain/Who Are You

Blog Factor, Mr. Sulu!

I GIVE UP, TIGER—YOU WIN!
After years and years of trying to find reasons to hate Tiger Woods, I have to give credit where credit is due—the S.O.B. is a legend.  There, I said it!  As you may or may not know, I hate golf—at least professional golf on TV anyway—and over the past ten years I've been mentally worn-out by all the coverage of Tiger Woods, especially on ESPN.  I've never disputed that the guy is good, but all the same, I've never been crazy about the guy because he's a tad arrogant and surly.  This is NOT a racial thing either—I think it's funny as hell that the best golfer in the world is a black man, and more power to him.

Anyway, my friend Tom and I were out having a few beers Saturday night, and the U.S. Open thing was on the tube at the bar, and we both got a kick out of Tiger holing out on a shot from the bunker, and I thought to myself, "this som-bitch is the luckiest motherfucker in the world..."  Flash ahead to Sunday evening, and for no particular reason, I found myself watching the end of the tournament and the duel between Tiger and Rocco "Need You Tonight" Mediate (oops, sorry for the Chris Berman-ism, there) and I was just blown away by Woods' steely-eyed determination to tie the thing up and send it to overtime with a clutch par putt on the 18th hole.  All I could say afterward about Tiger was "What a putts!"  Hell, even the 18-hole playoff on Monday went into overtime, before TW won his 14th major tournament in his career.

Anyway, I now officially recognize Tiger Woods as real man of genius and an outstanding competitor.  But let me say this:  I'd kick his ass on any mini-golf course in America (as well as several other free-world countries)!

A SAD ANNIVERSARY
I was reminded this morning that it was 21 years ago today that former Kansas City Royals manager Dick Howser lost his battle with brain cancer.  He seemed like such a good guy, and I admired how DH refused to take any crap off of George Steinbrenner when he managed the Yankees in the early '80s.  I never will forget that night after I heard that he died, as I was actually moved to tears for one of the rare times.  I remember laying out on my mom and dad's patio lounger with my Walkman on, playing my Rush Power Windows cassette when the song "Marathon" came on.  Near the end of the tune, a heavenly choir-like backing chorus floods the background of the song, and I remember staring up at the full moon and thinking what a gyp it was that Howser went from the ultimate high of his career—leading the Royals to the 1985 World Series title—to slipping away from us in just a little over a year and a half, and as the song ended, I just laid there in tears.  The man deserved a better fate—rest in peace, Dick.

CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #87
"Cat's In The Cradle"—HARRY CHAPIN (1974)  "Can you teach me to throw?/I said 'Not today--I got a lot to do'/He said, 'That's O.K.'/And he walked away but his smile never dimmed and he said, 'I'm gonna be like him, yeah...'"  This line mystified me for years until I looked it up on the 'net.  I always thought the kid said, "But he smiled at his friend and he said..."  Speaking of good guys who deserved a better fate, HC left us way too soon in 1981, as he was killed in a car accident en route to a charity concert event.  Apparently Harry was not an excellent driver, and he obviously wasn't flying in his "Taxi" at the time, either...

SIGN OF THE TIMES
The Kansas City Star announced today that it is letting go of 120 employees.  Too bad that hacks like entertainment columnist Hearne Christopher, Jr., ever-flatulent sportswriter Jason Whitlock and lifestyle columnist Jenee "You Go Girl" Osterheldt weren't among those let go.  By getting rid of the three of them alone, The Star could afford to keep the other 120 hard-working people they did let go...

TWO LITTLE SHITHEADS SITTIN' IN A TREE...
...or on a couch, anyway.  Talk about your strange bedfellows—these two palookas deserve each other.  Just think, you're looking at damn near 500 pounds of sanctimonious sacks of shit on one sofa, there...







SPEAKING OF FLATULENCE...
...I give you the Top 3 bass farts in Rock 'N' Roll history:
1) "Space Oddity"—DAVID BOWIE (1969)
2) "Oh My My"—RINGO STARR (1974)
3) "Burn Like A Candle"—PAUL REVERE & THE RAIDERS (1968)

I'LL TAKE POTPOURRI FOR $100, ALEX...
I was watching the infamous "Jeopardy!" episode of "Cheers" recently wherein Cliff Clavin breezed through the first two rounds with the help of his "dream boards" that included categories like Stamps, Mothers And Sons, Beers Of The World, et al, before faltering in Final Jeopardy by responding, "Who are three people who have never been in my kitchen?"

This got me to thinking, what would be my ultimate "dream board" on "Jeopardy!"?  I think it would go something like this:  State Capitals, Kiss Lyrics, Sanford & Son, '70s TV Game Shows, Tommy-The Movie and NFL Films Trivia.

My "nightmare board"?  That's easy:  The Bible, Shakespeare, Greek Mythology, The Sopranos, Fly-Fishing, and Zoology.

MAYBE IT IS EASY BEING GREEN...
I'm currently watching the Boston Celtics obliterate the L.A. Fakers in a Game 6 muckin' fugging in the NBA Finals.  There was a time when I absolutely despised, loathed, and just plain hated the Celtics (the Yankees of the NBA) during the days of Havlicek, Nelson, White, Bird, McHale, et al, and loved the Lakers back in the days of Chamberlain, West, Baylor, Hairston and Goodrich, et al, but now the roles are reversed—as Popeye might say, I can't stands L.A. no more!  That can be mostly attributed to Kobe Bryant, who I think is a total horse's ass, as well as Phil Jackson, whom I respect but still don't much care for.  I'm also happy for Kevin Garnett, Ray Allen and Sam Cassell for finally getting to the top after years of frustration, as well as Kansas grad Paul Pierce.  Hell, Bostonians were ready to string head coach Doc Rivers up by his nutsack last year, thus this victory is even more impressive considering that this was the same team that lost 21 games in a row last season, and they sucked like a Hoover Upright.  Can you say worst-to-first? Norm and Cliffy and the gang will no doubt be downing a few in celebration at Cheers tonight...

Ask any mermaid you happen to see...

...who's the best blogger—Chicken Of The Sea!

WHINER OF THE WEEK
There's a regular feature in the sports section on msnbc.com called "Whiner Of The Week", and you can just about bet the farm that this week's honoree will be Texas Rangers outfielder/head case Milton Bradley.  Seems that during one of the Rangers' games here at Kauffman Stadium this week, young Milt was busy in the clubhouse watching the local broadcast of the game he was playing in (rather than actually paying attention to the game itself, apparently), and he took offense at some remarks that Royals TV announcer Ryan Lefebvre made regarding Bradley's highly-publicized on-field fracases (fraci?), in which Lefebvre drew the comparison between Bradley and his teammate Josh Hamilton, who overcame a big-time drug problem and is currently having a career year, so why can't Bradley get his shit together?  A fair question, indeed, but that didn't stop cousin Miltie from going after (literally) Mr. Lefebvre after that game in hopes of physically attacking him.

First off, Ryan Lefebvre is hardly a malicious dude—he's about two steps away from milquetoast as a play-by-play man, in my book, and second off, Bradley's uncouth pattern of behavior pretty much speaks for itself.  Uhhh, Milt baby, might I suggest you stop acting like a horse's ass all the time?  Then maybe those mean old announcer dudes will stop picking on your whiny ass.  Talk to the hand, buddy...

TIM RUSSERT, 1950-2008
A bit of a shocker this weekend with the unexpected passing of "Meet The Press" moderator Tim Russert, who died of a heart attack yesterday.  Although I do remember Russert making regular appearances on dickhead Don Imus' show before the big ho scandal, I have to plead a little ignorance here and say I don't really know all that much about the man since I'm rarely up at that hour on Sundays to watch MTP.  He's obviously well-respected amongst his peers—even Faux News Channel has been praising his body of work today—therefore, he must have been a very important figure.

CHARLIE JONES, 1930-2008
For the second straight weekend, we've lost one of the voices from the soundtrack of my youth.  First it was Jim McKay, and now it's former ABC/NBC play-by-play man Charlie Jones, who died of a heart attack yesterday at age 77.  I practically grew up hearing Charlie's voice, as he seemingly was the announcer just about every time the Chiefs were on TV (especially when they played at Denver or San Diego).  CJ was paired with Chiefs legend Len Dawson in the late '70s on NBC's NFL broadcasts, and they worked quite well together.  He also broadcast the first Super Bowl, as well as several Olympics and served as play-by-play man for both the Cincinnati Reds and Colorado Rockies at times.  A native of Fort Smith, Arkansas, Jones had an easy-going, almost folksy on-air demeanor, and he always seemed like a very pleasant man who enjoyed his work.  Rest in peace, Charlie, you will be missed...

MOTHER NATURE'S COLORS ARE SHOWING...
Just ask the folks in Iowa—and we thought 1993 was bad around these parts.  The entire city of Cedar Rapids, IA is flooded out and Des Moines is about to follow suit.  Sadly, there's no relief in sight as more rain is in the forecast and the rivers are a-risin'.  Downstream in St. Louis, the Mississippi is approaching 1993 levels to the point where they had to close The President casino under the Gateway Arch because the access road leading to it is now impassable.  I'm just curious who Rev. Pat Robertson is going to claim has been "asking for it" in this particular case, like he did after Hurricane Katrina.  After all, there's all them sinners in a Bible-belt state like Iowa, ain't there?  Seriously, I hope all of our good neighbors to the north are able to rebound from this catastrophe ASAP.

YOU DON'T NEED A WEATHERMAN TO KNOW WHICH WAY THE WIND BLOWS...
Whilst I'm on weather, screw all these high-tech TV meteorologist wankers—it was pre-ordained that it would rain here in Kansas City on Thursday night—the band Chicago was in town!  Folks, you can set your calendar by this—it nearly always rains here when Robert Lamm and the boys are here in town and playing a concert outdoors, as they were Thursday night with the Doobie Bros. at Starlight Theater.  Perhaps Chicago should rename themselves The Rainmakers, but darn it, we already have a very successful band in this town by that name...

CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #86
"Me And Bobby McGee"—JANIS JOPLIN (1971)  "I pulled my harpoon out of my dirty red bandana..."  Okay, I first heard this song when I was in 1st grade.  It confused me then, and continued to do so well into adulthood.  I thought when Janis said "harpoon", she was referring to a stabbing weapon, not a musical instrument! Harpoon/harmonica=two different things!  Oy...

PLEASE MAKE THEM STOP!
Bless their hearts for trying, but is there not anything more pathetic than PBS pledge drives?  Last night, our local PBS affiliate was airing some concert video featuring '60s/'70s groups/singers performing in the modern day, and it was just plain sad.  Examples include the drummer/lead singer from Rare Earth (doing "Get Ready") and singer Sonny Geraci of Climax (doing "Precious And Few") to an audience of mostly empty seats in whatever venue they taped this "event" in, and it was just pathetic.  I'd gladly pledge a few semolians to PBS if they'd cease airing these travesties...

Concert Trek - Episode 15

71) Elton John (Tuesday, September 26, 1995—Sandstone Amphitheater) Ticket price: $25.00
 Following his early ‘80s comeback, Elton slipped back a bit and released a series of fair-to-mediocre albums in the latter half of the decade—Ice On Fire, Leather Jackets, Reg Strikes Back and Sleeping With The Past, namely—but rebounded nicely once again with a very good album, The One in 1992.  He continued that roll with Made In England in ’95, which I thought was also quite good, in spite of its rather contrived gambit of having all single-word song titles (“Lies”, “House”, “Blessed”, etc.), except for the title track.  Thus, my third go-round with Captain Fantastic in concert was largely another pretty good one as he had some good new material to play in addition to his classics.

Devoid of an opening act, that “cat named Hercules” and crew got right down to business, kicking off the evening with “I’m Still Standing”.  Dressed in a black-and-white diamond-patterned suit that would be considered tacky on most men, EJ almost made the thing look fashionable.  The sound was outstanding, (which is no mean feat for this crappy venue which I’ve long despised), though it could’ve been just a tad louder, and the band was very tight.  The reason why they were tight is doubtless because they were indeed an actual band again instead of the touring circus Elton had been employing in recent years, complete with horn sections, chirpy female back-up singers and a phalanx of musicians surrounding him at center stage as he played some cheesy electronic keyboard.  Now things were more digestible with EJ back in his regular upright position behind his grand piano at stage right and just his regular band playing behind him, which included longtime stalwart Davey Johnstone on guitar and a familiar face we hadn’t seen for a while, multi-faceted percussionist Ray Cooper.

Surprisingly, Elton didn’t lean on the new CD all that much, but I wouldn’t have cared if he did, since it had some good stuff on it, and he did perform two of my faves—the title track and “Pain”.  As per his usual, Elton also mined through his massive catalogue and dusted off a couple of forgotten gems to play, namely “Dixie Lily” from Caribou and “Come Down In Time” from Tumblewood Connection, and freshened them up a bit.  Other standout numbers included “Simple Life” from The One, which they played a little faster and punchier than the CD version, and “Rocket Man”, on which the band played an extended bluesy jam.  Elton saved the biggies for the end of the show, like “Pinball Wizard” and “Saturday Night’s Alright For Fighting”, the latter of which segued into a drum solo by Cooper.  “The Bitch Is Back” was the first encore, followed by “Your Song” (perhaps not the greatest transition in music history), and then to our surprise (and delight), “Funeral For A Friend/Love Lies Bleeding”, which worked surprisingly well at the end of the show instead of in the song’s traditional lead-off spot.  The band left the stage and Elton returned for a final encore, soloing on “The Last Song”, which was a nice touch.

The only truly glaring omissions in this show were “Crocodile Rock” and “Daniel”—both from Don’t Shoot Me, I’m Only The Piano Player, which was snubbed altogether, but all of Elton’s other early albums were represented at least once on the set list.  Elton couldn’t quite hit the high notes anymore, and this show lacked a bit of the energy from that killer 1982 Starlight Theater show we saw him play, but we cut him a little slack since he was 48 years old by that time, and hell, he did 26 songs and played damn near three hours!  All in all, a very classy and entertaining concert.

SET LIST:  I'm Still Standing/I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues/I Don't Wanna Go On With You Like That/Sacrifice/Dixie Lily/Honky Cat/Come Down In Time/House/Simple Life/The One/piano solo/Take Me To The Pilot/Made In England/Someone Saved My Life Tonight/Don't Let The Sun Go Down On Me/Bennie And The Jets/Levon/Rocket Man/Can You Feel The Love Tonight?/Believe/Pain/Saturday Night's Alright For Fighting/drum solo (Ray Cooper)/Pinball Wizard  ENCORES:  The Bitch Is Back/Your Song/Funeral For A Friend-Love Lies Bleeding/The Last Song

72) John Hiatt/Jeff Black (Thursday, March 21, 1996—Guitars & Cadillacs, Olathe, KS) Ticket price: $14.00


Guitars & Cadillacs (or whatever it’s called now) in suburban Olathe wasn’t/isn’t anything special—just your basic nightclub-in-a-strip-mall—but it was clean and serviceable for small shows like this one, my first full-length John Hiatt concert.  The show was originally scheduled for January 25th, and my friend Tom and I drove the 20-some-odd miles out to Olathe only to learn that the show was postponed because Hiatt had the flu.  We arrived this time too late to get a decent seat, and wound up sitting along the wall near an auxiliary bar at a rather severe angle to the stage, but at least we were close.  Singer Jeff Black opened the proceedings, performing solo on acoustic guitar and harmonica.  Underwhelming, at best, Black had little-to-no stage presence whatsoever, and reminded me of one of those street singers playing for tips.

Mercifully, Black only played 30 minutes and Hiatt hit the stage a mere 20 minutes later with his band, this time dubbed the “Nashville Queens”.  Opening with the eerie “Wrote It Down And Burned It” from his new Walk On CD was a bit of a curious choice, but the show kicked into gear on the next number, his classic “Slow Turning”.  The Slow Turning album got quite a few spins this time too, including the humorous “Tennessee Plates” as well as “Icy Blue Heart” and “Drive South”.  Hiatt was both in great voice and spirits, and the band was tight, leaning on the new CD quite a bit, as expected, including my favorite tracks from it, the hilarious “Ethylene” and the sardonic “Shredding The Document”, as well as the Springsteen-esque “As Good As She Could Be“.  Surprisingly, Hiatt didn’t do one of his signature tunes, “Memphis In The Meantime”, but still, this was a mighty fine hour-and-45-minute show, especially for a club gig.  Just as I had suspected, Hiatt was an excellent headliner, and it was also nice to know that he kept the working man in mind by getting us out of there at a decent hour (on a weeknight) like 11:45.  Nice going, John!

SET LIST:  Wrote It Down And Burned It/Slow Turning/Real Fine Love/Ethylene/You Must Go/Tennessee Plates/Buffalo River Home/Dust Down A Country Road/Riding With The King/As Good As She Could Be/Icy Blue Heart/Native Son/Shredding The Document/ Perfectly Good Guitar  ENCORES:  Cry Love/Have A Little Faith In Me/Thing Called Love/Drive South

73) The Moody Blues (Saturday, June 26, 1996—Sandstone Amphitheater) Ticket price: $20.50


My older sister Renee was a big Moody Blues fan when I was growing up, but she had never seen them in concert before, so I was one-up on her, having seen them eight years earlier at Sandstone.  This time, the Moodies were touring with a full symphony orchestra to augment their music, with the orchestra doubling as the opening act.  The symphony warmed up with a few selections just after 8:00, then drummer Graeme Edge appeared at the side of the stage to recite “Late Lament”, but it was a little hard to visualize the “gathering gloom” while the sun was still out!  Anyway, Edge was then joined by the rest of the band and they opened with “The Voice” from 1981’s Long Distance Voyager.  The orchestra was great for some of their old classics like “Tuesday Afternoon” and “Nights In White Satin”, but it was just window dressing for the bulk of their ‘80s hits.  In fact, I could’ve done without the ‘80s stuff altogether, and would love to have seen them focus solely on their “magnificent seven” albums from 1968 thru ’72 instead.  The pace of the show was a bit sluggish too, plus they had a 20-minute intermission that was totally unnecessary since the show only lasted an hour and 50 minutes.  The show wrapped up nicely with “Question”, followed by the perennial encore “Ride My See-Saw”.

This concert was decent enough, but I thought they were better when I saw them in 1988 with Cheap Trick.  As we drove home, my sister lamented (late lamented?) not having seen these guys when they were in their prime in the early ‘70s, thanks in large part to our old man, who wouldn’t allow her to attend concerts when she was in her teens.  She and I don’t talk much anymore, and I’m pretty sure she resents the fact that I was somehow allowed to go to concerts when I was 15, too…

SET LIST:  Late Lament/The Voice/Gemini Dream/Tuesday Afternoon/Watching And Waiting/Lean On Me (Tonight)/Never Comes The Day/Say It With Love/Steppin' In A Slide Zone/I Know You’re Out There Somewhere/The Story In Your Eyes—Intermission—Your Wildest Dreams/Isn't Life Strange/The Other Side Of Life/I'm Just A Singer (In A Rock 'N' Roll Band)/Nights In White Satin/Legend Of A Mind  ENCORES:  Question/Ride My See-Saw

74) Kiss/Alice In Chains (Wednesday, July 3, 1996—Kemper Arena) Ticket price: $34.50

Prior to this night, I had seen Kiss in concert seven times, but this time a dream (if you can call it that) came true as I finally got to see the original Kiss lineup in make-up play at the big house in K.C., Kemper Arena.  I did see the original lineup once at Municipal Auditorium following the Kemper roof collapse in ’79 on the Dynasty tour, but I missed their prior two appearances at Kemper in ’77 at the height of their popularity because my old man wouldn’t let me go, thus I always felt like something was missing.  So at the beginning of my 21st year as a Kiss fan, that wrong was finally righted, and my eighth time around with the band also broke the previous record they held along with Van Halen and Z.Z. Top for the most times I’ve seen one group in concert.  This show also marked the end of an era, as it was the last time I ever got up early on a Saturday morning to wait in line for concert tickets the day they went on sale.  As inconvenient as that was sometimes, I actually kinda miss this bygone tradition in our current TicketBastard cyber-ticketing world…

Alice In Chains opened the show, and they were light years better than the first time I saw them when they opened for VH in ’91.  They were loud, tight, and even singer Layne Staley was actually into it this time.  AIC is one of the few ‘90s bands that I actually got into, and they did a nice job playing all the songs that I liked, including “Rooster” and “Would?”, plus their new one, “Again".  About the only FUBAR during their set was right before their encore when the drummer grabbed a mic and started mockingly singing “Beth, I hear you calling…” which didn’t sit well with the fans.  Little did anyone know at the time that this was the last gig Alice In Chains would ever do with Staley, who died pathetically in 2002 of a heroin overdose.

Between sets, I wandered around the arena a bit and took it all in.  The crowd ranged from kids to people in their ‘50s, many wearing Kiss make-up (with varying degrees of accuracy).  As showtime neared, the anticipation grew more intense, and it reminded me so much of the energy those Van Halen crowds generated when David Lee Roth was with them.  The lights finally went down and we heard that familiar refrain, “You wanted the best, you got the best…”  The curtain dropped and the band was already standing on the stage and opened with “Deuce”.  I was thrown by this just a little, because I was under the assumption that the stage would be an exact replica of the 1977 Love Gun/Alive II set, on which they made their entrance via cherry pickers that lowered them to the stage.  Turns out only their costumes were a replica of ‘77, and they looked great, while the stage was very sleek and open, with a much more versatile Kiss logo than those used in past tours.
 

This was only the third gig of the much-anticipated Kiss Reunion Tour, and we weren’t quite sure what to expect going in, but it turned out to be a dandy show.  Everyone in the band looked healthy, although they looked like they’d lost a step or two with age in those platforms.  The sound was surprisingly clear (and plenty loud), and the video screen behind the stage was similar to the one employed by the Stones in ’94, offering outstanding visuals.  The old stand-by special effects were all there too, like Ace Frehley’s smoking guitar and bottle rocket launcher, as well as Gene Simmons “flying” to the lighting rig, etc.  And of course, lots and lots of pyro!

I was especially impressed with Peter Criss, who had totally changed his drumming style from the last time I saw him.  The Cat Man was born-again hard, appearing to have bulked-up his upper body a bit, and the results showed.  While his drumming wasn’t nearly as animated as it used to be, Peter played quite solidly and concentrated more on being a timekeeper, and he was able to slow the tempo of the old songs back to the original Alive! days after years of Kiss drummers Eric Carr and Eric Singer playing them so much faster to keep up with the likes of Iron Maiden and Scorpions.  Criss also threw in a nice extended solo in the middle of the show.  Meanwhile, Paul Stanley was certainly in much better voice than the last time we saw him at that 1992 St. Joseph debacle when he had the flu, and was still the most mobile member of the group, using the entire stage as his playground.  My man Ace was cooking on his solos throughout the show, especially on “Love Gun” and “Let Me Go, Rock ‘N’ Roll”.  And of course, Gene was Gene, making the best of his deadly halitosis by breathing fire and puking blood.

The set list featured many of the old favorites from the first six Kiss studio albums, and there were a few surprises like “Watchin’ You” from Hotter Than Hell and “Rock Bottom” from Dressed To Kill.  “Do You Love Me?” from Destroyer was a high point—this was the first time I’d ever heard it played live—and the band added the original coda that was (for whatever reason) omitted from the original studio recording.  I thought we might also hear “Hotter Than Hell” itself, and maybe “Parasite” and “I Was Made For Lovin’ You” and a few more from Rock And Roll Over as well, but no such luck.  And what—nothing from Music From The Elder?  WTF?!?  Okay, I’m kidding there—it was a great set list (20 songs in all) and an impressive two-hour show, ending with “Rock And Roll All Nite”, followed by “Detroit Rock City”, “Beth” and “Black Diamond” for the encore.  I was elated, having finally gotten to see Kiss at Kemper, and all was right with the world—for one night, anyway…

SET LIST:  Deuce/King Of The Nighttime World/Do You Love Me/Calling Dr. Love/Cold Gin/Love Gun/Shout It Out Loud/Watchin' You/Firehouse/Strutter/Shock Me (Ace Frehley guitar solo)/Rock Bottom/God Of Thunder (Peter Criss drum solo) New York Groove/Let Me Go, Rock 'N' Roll/100,000 Years/Rock And Roll All Nite  ENCORE:  Detroit Rock City/Beth/Black Diamond

75) Kiss/The Hunger* (Tuesday, September 10, 1996—Kansas Coliseum, Wichita) Ticket price: $37.00 (*=Did not see this act perform)

During the many sojourns my friend Tom and I made to watch our beloved Kansas City Comets indoor soccer team play the Wichita Wings at the Kansas Coliseum, I always remarked that I’d love to see a concert sometime in that little arena on the prairie, given how loud it got in there during soccer games.  Well, the Kiss Reunion Tour provided me with a golden opportunity to do so, and since that Kemper gig was so good in July, I couldn’t resist a little road trip to Wichita and I made a bee-line down I-35 after I got off work at 5:00 that day.

Kansas Coliseum (AKA Britt Brown Arena) is a boxy little 10,000-seat building out in the middle of nowhere north of Wichita featuring a single-level seating bowl and a low, flat roof that makes for a very loud venue.  The sightlines are awesome from just about any seat in the hall, and the seats themselves are nice and wide too.  I arrived between sets just after 8:00, so I can’t even begin to tell you a thing about The Hunger.  I was taken aback a little by the number of empty seats in the place, given that this was a rare big-time concert for Wichita, and there was a section just to the left of my seat that was nearly completely empty.  Oh well, on with the show…

Kiss came on at 8:30 and started off kinda flat this time.  This was their third show in three nights on the tour, and they all looked a little tired.  It took them a few songs to get the adrenaline flowing, and for a brief time, I even thought Paul Stanley might be illin’ again, but he finally kicked it into gear.  Irregardless, you have to admire their stamina in playing that many gigs in a row, doing such a high-energy act like this at their age.  The set list was pretty much the same as the one at Kemper, although they dropped “Rock Bottom” in favor of “I Stole Your Love” from Love Gun and changed the sequence a little, including “Black Diamond” and “Rock And Roll All Nite” swapping places in the batting order at the end.

Since there were so many empty seats in the place, it enabled me to roam around a bit and check out the show from different angles, which was fun.  It seemed like they added a bit more pyro to this show, but much to my dismay, the sound was really disappointing and not nearly as loud as I was expecting in this little band-box arena.  There was one rather humorous moment, when Ace had a little trouble getting his flaming guitar to “fly” following his extended solo, as he tried in vain several times to find the hook to lift it skyward by the neck.  All in all, not a bad concert, though—not quite as good as Kemper in July, but still well-worth the three-hour road trip.

SET LIST:  Deuce/King Of The Nighttime World/Do You Love Me/Calling Dr. Love/Cold Gin/Watchin' You/Firehouse/I Stole Your Love/Shock Me (Ace Frehley guitar solo)/Let Me Go, Rock 'N' Roll/Shout It Out Loud/Strutter/God Of Thunder (Peter Criss drum solo)/New York Groove/ Love Gun/100,000 Years/Black Diamond  ENCORE:  Detroit Rock City/Beth/Rock And Roll All Nite

"You say it's your birthday..."

"…WELL IT’S MY BIRTHDAY, TOO, YEAH."
Honest, it really is!  I’m officially halfway to 88 today, as I now travel down Route 44 on the highway of life.  I have mixed feelings about it all, as birthdays to me have become pretty much a non-event anymore, especially when they land on weekdays when I have to work.  Then again, any day above ground is a good one, I suppose…

NICE GOING, JR.!
A belated congrats to Cincinnati Reds slugger Ken Griffey, Jr. for joining the 600 Home Run Club this week.  I know this sounds redundant in light of what all the talking heads on ESPN, et al, have said about him, but it’s kinda nice to not have to mention Griffey’s name and steroids in the same sentence.  Dirty shame that injuries bogged Jr.’s career down over the last few years too, or he might be chasing 800 homers right about now.  Even so, he has once of the sweetest, most fluid swings you’ll ever see, too.  If he remains healthy, he might be able to at least catch Willie Mays for fourth place all-time at 661 in about three years.

YOUR CHEATIN’ HEARTS?
Lots of hubbub during the NBA playoffs about allegations by scalawag former NBA ref Tim Donaghy that refs were told by the higher-ups during the 2002 playoff series between the L.A. Lakers and Sacramento Kings to not give technical fouls to the star players and to basically tilt the series in L.A.’s favor to garner better TV ratings.  Not sure whether to believe this schmuck or not, given the timing of his accusations—right smack-dab in the middle of this year’s NBA Finals—but this does bring up an interesting question:  How come the officials aren’t held more accountable when they screw up?  Why are they shielded from the media after a game (not just by the NBA, but by all the major sports leagues) when there’s a controversial ruling?  Seems to me that if a star quarterback gets grilled for throwing three interceptions in a game, why can’t the refs have their feet held to the fire too?

PUT HER ON THE Z-LIST, ALREADY!
Anyone out there besides me growing tired of irritating "comedienne" Kathy Griffin, yet?  They’ve been hyping yet another new celebrity name-dropping show for her, and her 15 minutes shoulda been up a long time ago.  This unfunny woman is the second-coming of Joan Rivers (minus the ugly-ass daughter), and she's the female equivalent of Gilbert Gottfried on my irritation scale.  What a waste of pretty red hair…

CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #85
"It Don’t Come Easy"—RINGO STARR (1971)  "This love of mine is growing all the time, and you know it just ain’t easy…"  To my 7-year-old ears, I thought Sir Ringo was singing "this rump of mine is growing all the time"!  Can’t knock this song, though—it’s a quintessential three-minute pop single, and one of my all-time favorites.  Not much was expected out of Mr. Starkey after The Beatles broke up, but ironically, he was churning out the hits right and left early on while the other three scuffled a bit before hitting their strides in their solo careers.

FROM THE DEPARTMENT OF REDUNDANCY DEPT.
I get a chuckle out of my interactive menu on Compost Cablevision in their listings for the "Beverly Hillbillies" on TV Land that are marked "Repeat".  Uhhh, like there are still some first-run episodes lurking around out there?

TOTAL NONSEQUITOR, HERE…
Anyone ever notice this little oddity on the "Muppet Show"?  All the characters that were shown playing the guitar or banjo were left-handed.  A tribute to Jimi Hendrix, Tony Iommi and Paul McCartney, perhaps?  Oh wait, I know—they're all left-leaning bleedin' heart liberals, right, Ms. Malkin?