It's kind of fun tracing your musical lineage. For instance, I'm sort of known for the early Rick Springfield affinity, but as 'ark has pointed out repeatedly -- including this past weekend -- the man can play the guitar. Which explains why I spent hours air guitaring various Working Class Dog/Success Hasn't Spoiled Me Yet/Living in Oz/Hard to Hold riffs.
Of late, I've been listening a ton to Fleetwood Mac and their various solo projects. I consider the band to be a manifestation of several of my Sybil-like personalities (Stevie is the mystical moon lover side and Lindsey is the obsessive compulsive and Christine is the sweet side and Mick/John are the rocks.) This is an even better analogy than my old "Star Wars" personality test. Plus I can get my pop AND blues rocks off with the different manifestations of a band that's been in existence as long as I've been alive.
So we have two Lindsey Buckingham gigs coming up -- one in Atlantic City on Oct. 11 and then another a week later at Nokia in the city. In the meantime, there's plenty of music to be digested.
This week Park only had one mere gig (what??!! slippage!!) But it was a doozie -- the recently reunited Squeeze at the legendary Radio City Music Hall. Not being a child of the '80s nor MTV, 'ark was a little taken aback by the electrono aspects of the greatest hits CD I prepared for him. But I knew that 1.) Glenn Tilbrook's ability with the guitar and 2.) the working-class catchy lyrics and music penned by Chris Difford and Glenn would impress him.
Another great obsession has also arisen in recent weeks, the notion of playing guitar again. I only played for a few weeks back in the 'pequa Park days, but the bug's been biting of late. 'ark's guitar collection might have something to do with that.
The great question has been about my penchant for playing left-handed (like the biggest and best hero, Jimi). Should I play a righty upside down (while I show off my butt like butt hero Doyle) or should I play a guitar specifically made for a lefty? We looked through some of the legendary shops on 48th before heading for the gig.
At which I made one of the most bone-headed mistakes possible. I will say it now here in hopes that NO ONE ELSE REPEATS such a faux pas. No I'm not talking about the way my blue-lit swizzle stick kept falling out of my drink. I saw a shirt I wanted -- a women's Black Coffee in Bed shirt. And I thought, oh, I'll just wait until after the show and get it then. Big mistake. Don't know if they had like two because it was the last show of the tour, but they were gone by the time I got back. My heart was broken, in a I didn't get a shirt-no biggie-but that's a bummer-kinda way.
The show itself was a lot of fun. Since the reunion show I saw last year, the solos have gotten looser and made the songs more breezy. The great fun in a Squeeze show is it's sort of like a live jukebox. As Casey Kasem used to say, the hits just keep on coming! One familiar song after another, and they're short and to the point and just fun.
The only false note was not hit on the stage but in the row next to us in the second mezzanine as several people left, mid-set, right after "Tempted" was played. I wondered why they just didn't stay home and play the single. Then a couple more people would have been able to get into the sold-out show.
Being in the second mezz kept me and my bad knee in my seat longer than it normally would have, but I still had to pop up for the encore songs -- Hourglass and Pulling Mussels from a Shell. 'ark chose to proactively try and support my frame so that I wouldn't cause myself any further damage. I will pause for a moment to give you time to "awwwwwwww."
Just a note about the opener, the band James, before I go. You suck! I soooooooo would have preferred the southern tour opener, Fastball. If I wanted to listen to you, James, I would cut U2 and Coldplay CDs in half and then tape them together. Then they obviously would skip and repeat the same words ad nauseum ... you know, like you do.
Next up: Park joins the journeycouple for Popa Chubby in Teaneck and then journeys to Carnegie Hall for Zuccheroo. Sorry, Zucchero, someone I know used to call to pronounce it zuck-eroo. I'm sure I'll be over that next Saturday.