I went to see Bob Schneider at the Aladdin Theater last night. I don’t know if there are any Bob Schneider fans reading this, but what follows it not entirely flattering. This is my third Bob concert. I saw him almost a year and a half ago at the Aladdin and again last year at the Doug Fir.
The first time, I was smitten. He was charming and funny and dealt with an unruly crowd like a comic pro and that in and of itself was enough to make me a huge fan, but throw in a magnificent voice, music that rocks your hips to move when you planned on sitting and find yourself pressed next to strangers on the floor, and a vocal range that leaves you stunned and horny – and well, yeah, I came back for more. So knowing that, when he was to show up at the Doug Fir, I didn’t hesitate to join St. Mary. I got dressed up in my knee-high doc’s and frilly cherry print dress and went to get my rock on!
Only, HE didn’t really have his rock on. Everyone has their good days and their bad days. That much is a given. Doug Fir last year wasn’t his best day, nor was it a great crowd. Though the floor was standing room only, most of the people there were more for the party scene than the music, which I think translated to an energy that grew to a point where people where talking on cell phones and as the liquor flowed the odd rude comments were shouted at the stage! I was horrified. What about the music you idiots!
So anyway, it was apparent that he was irritated. It was clear he was bored with stupid drunks and though occasionally he seemed to find solace in the music it was fleeting and the pervasive energy seemed to finally drive him off leaving me feeling sorry for him.
Cut to the Aladdin last night. The bad that opened, was awesome. Eliot Morris was charming and disarming and his right dimple flashed with every joke and I found myself unable to look away. Now there is a man who loves the music! It was plain to see, this was his bliss and I can honor and resonate with that. Cheers to the man strong enough to follow his bliss.
Then came Bob Schneider. I can’t call myself a devoted fan. I don’t own his cds I don’t have pictures on my wall and I can only name like three songs. I’ve preferred to keep his voice as a thing I know I can find when I need it, a lift in the dark or an extra spring to my step whenever he rolls through town. I guess that wont work anymore. The guy who walked out on stage was somewhere else. Bob Schneider was not in the building last night.
The band added a new feature, a pull down screen at the back of the stage that showed random images as the songs rolled. By the second song, the screen was flashing black and white photos in rapid succession of peoples faces and by the third song the flashing images were all name brands that blasted the eye and flash-fried the brainpan with bright obnoxious lights. I found myself watching the ground and listening to the music to avoid having my eyes seared by the soullessness. I comprehend a shot at something artsy. I understand the logo statement, but I also get that Bob Schneider didn’t want anyone watching him play. I think he was working at a redirect of the audiences focus and honestly, it worked, it completely shut me out.
Sometimes the images were slow like a snowflake and perhaps he wanted your attention back for a minute before the next song with images of flashing guns and army tanks. Yes, I get the statement.
On the occasional songs that the screen was dark, I’d watch him and still, moments of amazement hit me that, yes, he still finds some joy in the music, but there is more of a sense of obligation than bliss. I felt like a dead weight, by paying to see this man perform. Like he’s a magician, a master of musical magic and he feels like he sold himself out to the paying masses, but since he said he’d do the gig – damnit, he’d do it, but he’s not gonna like it. I almost left. Several times I thought about it, but toward the end I knew I wouldn’t leave, but I likely wouldn’t come back either. Some drunk comments were shouted toward the end and although I didn’t hear them clearly, whatever it was shifted his whole body to a point of absolute irritation.
I’ve never been at a concert where the performer is so obviously bothered to have an audience. He did one encore and during that time he smiled and laughed. A return to joy for a brief second like a dying man knows there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.
I left feeling like it was time to buy the cd. I love his music, his sound, his boldly honest lyrics and sharp social commentaries that are both full of longing and desperately dismissive.
I love that. But I don’t want anything to do with showing up to see a man who doesn’t really want to be there. Who knows, maybe I had it all wrong. Maybe he got a really crappy phone call right before going on stage, he still sang, but he wasn’t really there.
But I think I’m right by saying he looks tired, bored and ready to be doing something new.
As I was walking out the front door, I glanced over at the line going into the Lamp, the next door restaurant where everyone was gathering to chat and eat. Eliot Morris stood next to the door and by some random chance I glanced over at him in time to catch his eyes. There was this moment where I felt a great sense of joy for him – I wanted to shout out – “Follow your bliss, kid!” but instead I smiled and turned to leave, I hope if he starts to lose the exhilaration of being on stage, if the fans start to weigh him down and if the musical life begins to overwhelm him – I hope he has the grace to evolve with it, or let it go and follow the next level of bliss.
For me, it’s tough to want to support an artist with my time and energy and money – if it’s not about beauty anymore.
