Chicago journal

[Alan McKendree <amck@thenetdr.com>]

Hello all,

I tried to post this late Sunday but it looks like it didn't make it.  Try II:

It took me a while to recover from the Chicago trip and write this
up...hope you enjoy.

Friday morning -- into line before dawn for the ever-popular early slots;
picked a likely-looking spot of concrete by the door. The famous George
from NY and Gitta and Paul from Holland are already there. It crosses my
mind that I haven't done an overnighter like this since sleeping out to
help a friend get Dylan tickets in the late '70s. (With luck, this may be
the last one I ever do.) It's cold, but with six layers of clothes and a
sleeping bag, I'm actually pretty comfortable. Thanks to all gods of Who,
weather, and coincidence, at least it's neither raining nor freezing. (The
weather through the whole weekend is so amazingly good it makes front-page
news on Saturday.) More and more fans appear: Kathy, Monica, Cynthia,
Gooch, Terry McBride, Erick Dyke, Kathleen, Jacquie, Lauren, Stefani, Uncle
Charlie...with each additional face the assembly is a bit more complete. As
the day rolls by, it's possible to go back to the hotel for a shower and/or
to change clothes, or take time for a restaurant or deli to eat.

Through the day, rumors and "facts" abound...Elton John will appear as a
guest star. There will be a barricade in front of the stage to provide a
pit for the camera filming the shows. The property's owners will not allow
overnight camping for the second show. All of these are reported as fact
and all prove false.

As the time for the doors to open approaches, I become more tense, and even
the time of opening the doors is uncertain...variously reported as 6:30,
7:00, 7:30? By 6:00, the packs, newspapers, sleeping bags, chairs and other
litter of the day have mysteriously disappeared, and there's nothing but a
pressing line of eager fans, slowly compressing themselves. The door opens
and a huge HOB staffer appears. "Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your
attention please? There is a problem with the show tonight. Tonight's show
has been cancelled." Something in his demeanor gives him away, though, and
we shout down his joke. Grinning, he says it'll be only a few more minutes
and disappears back inside. I take this as a good sign...if the staff can
relax and joke, maybe I can, too.

Finally the doors swing open. Those with physical tickets can go on in.
Those with vouchers must proceed to check-in tables organized by
alphabetical groups and show IDs to pick up their tickets. I'm with Terry
and as we wait for the nice lady to sloooowly flip through all the M's,
many ticketholdrs shoot by. Finally we get our tickets and we're off and up
the stairs into the hall, and sprint to the front. I eventually settle
about 6' house left of Roger's mike, in the third layer of people, behind
Terry and next to Stefani. We wait and wait. Finally the lights go down and
Eddie and C Average take the stage. They are very warmly received, and
Eddie peppers his remarks with mentions of the Who. The drummer's bass drum
has "DON'T MESS WIT [sic] TEXAS" spelled out in adhesive tape on it, and
during the set Eddie explains that either Brad (drummer) or Jon (guitarist)
was recently snagged by police in Van Horn, Texas, for pot. Jon has done a
lot of homework...clad in a boiler suit with a small Mod target pin on the
right breast and a single medal a la JAE on the left breast, and a
fisherman's cap like Pete wore in the Happy Jack video. The set itself is
nearly the perfect opening set -- by turns rocking and introspective,
including "Wishlist" and covers of The Police's "Driven To Tears", and a
fast one called "I Am A Patriot". Also included is "Last Kiss", which I
could do without; I didn't like the original and I see no reason for EV/PJ
to resurrect it. Judging from the audience response, though, I am in the
minority.

The set is fueled by the honesty and close interaction with the audience
for which Eddie is famous, but everyone in the house including EV & C-Av
know why they're there. They don't presume to play a Who song, but they do
essay a blistering rock version of "Leavin' Here". It's very cool to be in
a room full of people who catch the reference, and I can tell the band
appreciates the audience feedback. After a brief 30-minute set Eddie says
that soon a REAL guitar player will be out, and they're off, ignoring
scattered calls for an encore.

Rich Thomson and I sit down for part of the break to conserve energy and
give my back a rest. We chat surrounded by a forest of knees. At 9:10 I
stand, fearful of being on the floor when The Who are introduced, but they
don't come on for another 15 minutes. Girls shove their way through the
tightly-packed crowd, selling not only beer and other drinks but cigarettes
and cigars. A couple of guys behind me buy big fat cigars but heed the
pleas of those around them to go elsewhere to smoke them (although they
return later with the stubs).

Finally the lights go down and The Who hits the stage. I Can't Explain rips
out, with Pete on stacked Hiwatts. The crowd goes crazy. People behind me
start pushing. The first two rows of people, which tend toward the female
and/or the short, have enough space, but the third row is taking a lot of
heat for them. I find that the problem behind me is some sleepy-eyed beefy
fuck who has developed the trick of simply leaning on the person in front
of him -- they can either move forward or get out of his way and let him
through. He's a bit to my left, meaning that Stefani's catching the brunt
of his push from the woman behind her who's actually getting leaned on.
Stefani and I plant our feet and push back with all our weight,
supplementing it with an occasional extra push back. Later I learn that Mr.
Fuck and his friend have put away 3-4 cases of beer in line before ever
going inside. Eventually a smart person behind me solved the problem by
buying this guy beers until he had to leave for the bathroom... and didn't
bother to work his way back to his former spot!

The band seems right on, and happy to be there. Despite other reports that
they are slow or shaky at the outset, I don't notice it. All songs seems to
be clicking on all cylinders. During one of the early songs, I'm looking at
John, and I feel a whisssh of air on my hair. I suddenly realize Roger has
sent the mike out into the crowd and come within, oh, 6" of my head...and I
missed it because I wasn't looking at him! Doh! I resolve to be more
careful, but he doesn't repeat the sling.

The audience is still pressing against Stefani and me and my toes are
starting to hurt from being jammed down into my shoes as I push back. I
supplement resistance with suddenly giving way so the people behind me
stumble forward, then pushing back hard.

Anyway, Anyhow, Anywhere is the first scheduled jam, and Pete takes full
advantage of it.

My Wife -- as with most of the songs, the audience shouts/sings the lyrics.
John sings, with Roger taking backup chores. After the "wrong precinct"
verse, they jam, with John giving it everything he's honed in the John
Entwistle Band shows -- walking octaves and blindingly fast runs. A clean
break from the jam back into the last verse, followed by Pete answering
with a solo of his own.

The first real surprise of the show is Pure And Easy -- I'm told this is
the first time the band's played it since 1971 or so. It sounds great, with
Rabbit's keyboards filling in the gaps nicely. Not much flamboyance during
the verses; the band seems to be concentrating on just doing the song
correctly. Not for the first time, I notice a lyrics monitor downstage
right, scrolling the words by. But on the "There once was a note, Listen"
coda, Pete lets go and pounds the guitar. A thoroughly satisfactory
experience.

Pete notices that John's had a big thermos brought out and goes off
[paraphrased]: I notice John's got a big picnic thermos over there. Why
haven't I got a picnic thermos? Where's my picnic thermos? <plaintively>
What's wrong with me?? Now it [the inter-group bitching] starts...He used
to have bicycle bottles brought out and put on his mike stand, but now he's
too old and creaky to bend down for them."  (:-D). I'm delighted by the
riff of Townshend humor.

Behind Blue Eyes: notable for a quiet "When my fist clenches...", sung the
same way, as the preceding verses, but it pops into loud high gear just a
bit, during the last fast set of chords, quieting down again just before
the final "No one knows...".

They use Pete on acoustic for BBE as the segue into an acoustic set,
consisting of Tattoo, Mary Ann, I'm A Boy. These are all a bit slow and
contemplative- sounding. John hits a bit of Boris and chimes in, "As long
as we're doing the novelty songs, how about this one?" and so they play
that one too. It's funny how ominous "Bo-o-ris the spider" sounds when it's
just the bass and an acoustic playing.

Pete's back to electric for Eminence Front, then acoustic for After The
Fire. Although I haven't been looking around much, I notice some tears in
the audience during After The Fire.

5:15 was an absolute gem tonight. Pete Pinto and I are giving John the
thumbs-up from the opening note of this song, encouraging him..."Come on,
John, this one's yours, give it to us!" The audience is roaring the
responses "Apple scrumping...birthday punching..." PT made the song even
better than usual by going into a long wild solo before John's solo,
perhaps challenging him, who knows? I thought of it as the setting in the
ring that shows off the diamond to its absolute best and thought it a very
generous move on Pete's part. John's solo, as usual, left the audience
delirious.

Pete thanks the audience for the money they've spent and the trouble
they've (some of them) gone to get in the building, and says it's "very
touching". He also says something about loving us, but then tosses in a
remark about always loving one's boss when in his employ.

Then into the cool new version of Magic Bus, with the swinging sexy beat.
The best I can describe it is to accent beats 3, 7, and 8 in a medium-speed
8-beat bar. I've been getting a little tired of MB, but just having this
new beat really re-perks my interest in it. I wonder whose idea that was?
Still 8 minutes of "A" for John, though :-). I flash him an "A" sign with
my fingers and he rolls his eyes. Pete tears up the big finish, with a
sliding pick down the fretboard and howling feedback, then ribs Roger for
playing too long a harmonica solo.

WGFA -- Brilliant...introduced with the trademark three thumps on the bass
drum. My personal pet peeve about this is answered when Pete executes the
power chords in the same rhythm that the studio version has them -- *1* 2 3
4 5 6 7 8 1 *2* 3 *4* 5 6 7 8 -- seems like for years he'd jump the gun on
the latter two. It's not like he was making a mistake, he just didn't care
about hitting them as they appear on the studio version, but I love the
tension that builds if he waits, and he did. Woohoo!

Pete introduces Rabbit & Zak and the band buggers off.

Band buggers back on for encores: The Kids Are Alright (audience singing
along lustily), a country-tinged version of A Legal Matter (Pete singing),
which segues into Roger singing bits of I Walk The Line (in a key way too
low for him) and Ring Of Fire as a nod to Johnny Cash, who they report is
sick but "getting better". The quiet mood is smashed with a fiery My
Generation. Once the verses are over, it turns into a Leeds-like jam where
John keeps things going while Pete noodles until he finds a riff he likes,
then things get faster and louder until the big finish. After the big
finish, however, Pete continues with a slow quiet fingering -- I'm
wondering whether it'll turn into yet another cycle of smash-n-burn, but it
peters out and just stops.

Pete then brings Ed and C Average on to join the band for "Let's See
Action". Jon plays Pete's electric and does a good job of it, taking a
solo, while Pete plays acoustic.

When the final note is over I turn on my heel and start pushing my way out
through the crowd, some of whom think more is to come and inform me that
I'm crazy for leaving. Lauren's right behind me, encouraging me with pushes
to the back. We get out of the venue ahead of the crowd and snap into our
well-worn spot on the sidewalk. There is some serious uproar from some
people who thought that we were usurping places in a list that had been
made up while we were inside, but after a good 30 minutes of repetition
they were finally convinced that yes, we would be happy to go by the list
that had been worked up during our absence. That having been settled, a
representative of the group promptly spread out her sleeping bag and
snoozed off while the rest disappeared. I started making acquaintances with
other line denizens, notably Todd and Cheryl, two Chicago-area folks, and
Tim and Sue having just arrived.

Saturday:

The usual suspects are in line early. Every hour or so a sightseeing bus
drives goes through the space between the HOB and the hotel, right by the
line waiting for the show, so the tourists get to see real live fans
pulling an all-day wait, complete with coolers, chairs, sleeping bags,
pillows, empty McDonald's bags etc. etc. What a thrill for them!

Longtimers Seth, Marty, and Frank appear around midday and it's great to
see them. By this time I feel like a sidewalk veteran and am in a mental
zone different from that of the fans appearing to see the second show. I am
happy to assure them, though, that they are in for the show of a lifetime.

The day seems to fly by and soon it's time to gear up for the second show.
The two Dutch guys who are seeing only one show, Henk and Ron, are first in
line. The line starts to compress again and nerves and temperatures start
to rise. Tonight I have a physical ticket so I don't have to rely on the
speed-alphabetizing skills of the HOB staff. Excellent. The same huge HOB
guy comes out to announce that tonight's show has been cancelled, but we
foil him by shouting that we heard that joke yesterday. He's surprised, not
having counted on audience overlap from Friday. Again, after a looong wait
the doors swing open. The ticket checkers are afraid of getting overwhelmed
and make people come through slowly, in small groups.

I get into the venue quickly, but to my dismay front-and-center are already
occupied by, as it turns out, a friend of the HOB management, his female
companion (probably wife) and a couple friends, who obtained entry before
the Great Unwashed. Mr. Man and companion seem both alarmed and annoyed at
the rush of fans coming in to pack the place behind and around them. I take
a place just behind them and to their right, which puts me just about
dead-center. The Main Man and squeeze are oddly attired for a Who
show...black or navy blazer and gray slacks, and a black evening dress. The
woman also sports silver jewelry and dark glasses, which she never removes
throughout the show, thus earning my "Let's Get Pretentious" award for the
evening. Both of them are working on cigarettes and will continue to do so
throughout the show, thus earning my "Jesus, My Lungs, My Nose..." award.
One of the suit's friends expresses concern that the rapidly-growing press
of enthusiastic audience might cause him to touch or otherwise
inconvenience his buddy. I dig deep for some sympathetic comment. There's a
short-lived attempt at a widespread sitting on the floor, but HOB security
wades in to get us back up, explaining that we've bought STANDING room
tickets.

Finally, the curtain opens to reveal Eddie standing alone stage right under
a dramatic straight-down spot, arms out sideways and head thrown back in a
self-mocking humourous crucifixion pose. I am delighted at the joke. He
interacts and talks to the audience more than Friday night, getting them to
be quiet while he plays a brand-new song you've already read about...a
reflection on who gets your stuff when you die and what that means, ending
with the punchline that he'd give all his stuff to...The Who. Then Jon &
Brad come out (minus the sartorial tribute of the night before) and do a
set very similar to Friday's...well-received, a show by fans for fans
(although many Eddie/PJ fans are also in evidence). After their set, Eddie
says, "If you're from Chicago, I love you...if you're a Who fan, I love
you."

An announcer introduces our guys after the break.

I Can't Explain rips from the first chord. The audience roars the words
along with the band. They are noticeably calmer than Friday night --
enthusiastic, but not physical. The suit and the dress are not
inconvenienced. A misstep or two in Substitute -- it took a while to cycle
around to John's solo -- but hey, I love it when you fuck up, guys.

The presentation of the check to Father Smyth after Substitute and AAA --
the traditional huge 3' x 5' check, made out for a million bucks.  Father
Smyth says something about what one feels when presented with a check of
this size, and John shoots an amused raised eyebrow toward his side of the
audience.

A couple of songs later, Pete asks the audience "What is rock and roll?" A
few yell out "The Who!" I'm not really sure what he's getting
at...eventually he answers his own question: "Rock and roll is old people
wearing leather." John counters, "Rock and roll is old people wearing
leather -- with two ex-wives!", which gets a laugh from all on- and
offstage, and the band launches into a scorching "My Wife", which would
have done credit to a version from the '70s, except that John didn't do as
much with it back then.

"Pure and Easy" -- another high point. I'm not sure what people are getting
at when they say it doesn't work until the "Listen" chorus. It all sounds
great to me. During one of the verses, the suit decide to buy a round of
beer for the dress and friends, from the bargirl pushing her way through
the crowd. He transacts his purchase and hands the beers all around while
the band is playing P&E for only the second time in nearly 20 years; Pete
notices and studies the group carefully during this. I think of it as yet
another little stab in the heart to Pete from the audience and am reminded
of his quote from TKAA -- (paraphrased): "You have to accept that a lot of
the audience is fairly thick."

Getting In Tune -- once again, the audience feels compelled to help Roger
out singing, but this is counterbalanced by Pete's improvs during the coda
("gettin' in tune to the straight and narrow.")

Banter [all paraphrases]: After GIT, Roger asks for the house lights so he
can see the audience. He then immediately asks for lights off! "OK, that's
enough!...not a pretty sight", but then adds, "as I'm sure we're not." Pete
counters, "They look pretty good to me.  In fact, I still have the same
problem...I want to fuck you all. <big cheers>  I think maybe if I did
that, I'd eventually get around to The One. <pause> Now, here's a song
about being filled with the kind of self-loathing that would make you want
to fuck everyone in the audience..."

Behind Blue Eyes -- unlike last night, the break into "When my fist
clenches..." gets the full microphone-swinging full-volume treatment.

Magic Bus -- Roger jumps in with a harmonica jam that really works
out...haven't heard anything this intense since '82. Pete draws out "she
goes...she goes...she goes...like THUNDER" and then all five of them
(remember Rabbit) turn loose and Leeds really doesn't seem that far away
for a few glorious minutes. They're ALL giving it the full treatment and it
feels like the kind of who-knows-where-it's going jams that feed the band's
and my need for adventure in music.

Banter: Pete addresses some fans who've been waving a sign saying "The Seeker":

P: Just so you don't waste any more time, we're not playing The Seeker.

<good-natured boos>

Roger promptly leads the fans in an a-cappella version of the first verse
of The Seeker.

P:  I said we're *not* doing The Seeker. [to audience] He's such a
crowd-pleaser -- brown-noser. [to R] You've got to keep these people [fans]
in check!

R:  They've kept *you* in cheques...

P:  [conceding a point] Good one. Now here's a song I *mistakenly* wrote
for Roger...[going into After The Fire]

Who Are You -- someone (probably Alan) brings a chair out onstage so Pete
can sit for more intricate finger-picking during the twiddly bits of the
quiet break. Unfortunately, I can barely hear what he's doing, but that's
OK...I don't mind if he takes a moment to experiment and noodle for
himself. The song finishes in fine roaring form, and for those who had been
clamoring for "something new" Pete claimed credit afterward for
"1...2...3...4 brand new windmills, straight from the box."

5:15 -- how I love this song, especially what it's grown into since the
Quad tours. Tonight it's more ragged than I've heard it in a long while.
Roger's handoff to John's solo isn't clean, and Pete starts hitting some
punctuating chords during the solo, which eventually throws John off the
beat and he has to stop and restart.

During the song, someone throws a flannel shirt up on stage. Roger notices
it after the song, picks it up and gives his face a good wipe-off with it,
then tosses it into the cauldron of Roger fans in front of the stage. A
full-scale melee ensues which greatly entertains all who are not involved.
After a fierce struggle lasting a good minute a chunky, flushed and
slightly disheveled blonde overwhelms a relatively small man for the prize.

Won't Get Fooled Again, which Pete introduces as yet another "new song
you've never heard before". Don't know what caused the setlist to be
changed around to end with these two blockbusters, two of my favorites, but
I like it.

Pete introduces Zak and Rabbit, the band buggers off. Back in a couple of
minutes; Pete talks to the audience for a bit about how much fun it is to
play the old music, and that although he wonders whether he can ever
compose anything that's up to that standard, the band will be working over
the next 6 months to write more. Then into Kids Are Alright, which goes
directly into "My Generation" fully formed with Roger's ominous threatening
snarl, John's slashing solo(es), and a feedback-laced jam from Pete from 25
years ago. Brilliant. I think Zak could let himself go a bit more on the
ending rave-up; hopefully he'll have more chances later.

Ed & C Average return, like last night, for Let's See Action...a ragged but
fun version, in which none of Ed, Roger, and Pete were always sure of who
was to sing. At one point everyone faked John into giving them their big
run-up into the "Let's See Action" chorus, only to have someone continue on
with a verse. I saw John mouthing "It wasn't me" to Zak and anyone else who
would listen...and he was right :-).

Although that was supposed to be the end, Pete announces that someone has
offered to pay Maryville $100,000 if they'll do "Eminence Front". He says
he's not sure how it'll go, but it goes fine. I think this is a nicely
ironic choice considering the glitterati in attendance. Lauren and Stefani
later reported meeting a person claiming to be the one who paid for this,
and that he was "too drunk and incohenerent to be lying". :-) -- I wonder
whether he appreciated the irony of his choice.

After the show, there was a a scramble to get T-shirts and posters, which I
hadn't done on Friday given the line-sprint. It was a huge relief,
actually, to be done with the line thing. So with tears in my eyes -- NOT
-- I bid adieu to the north sidewalk of the House of Blues. After that, it
was just a matter of hanging out with friends -- Alan, Susan, Terry, Erick,
Seth, Frank T, Marty S, Tim, Sue, the Fabulous Ryan Brothers (Ed & John),
Frank & Wendy -- and catching up on what they had been doing since the last
time I saw them. A few hardcores wound up in the HOB hotel lounge about
3:30, where we were favored with a visit from Listmom Scott as he was
winding his evening to a close. We sat around and shot the breeze; after a
while Scott decided that a snooze was prime priority and took a li'l nap on
the floor. The dregs broke it up about 4:30 and I started packing about
5:00 to catch a 7:30 flight out... certainly not my first choice, but
necessary to get a decent fare due to the late change of plans to
accomodate the added show.

Just to put a cap on the weekend, I ran into Marty and Frank in the airport
on my way out Sunday morning. Marty's flight out of Midway had snafued and
he wound up in O'Hare...next to my gate. There we were, three exhausted
red-eyed derelicts, reeking of cigarettes and cigars, laughing a bit too
loud, still high from the shows, among normal citizens just minding their
own business trying to catch their 7:00 flight out...

Cheers,

Alan
Dell is the one-eyed man in the kingdom of the blind.  Apple sees in 3-D.