Malcolm Holcombe @ Schubas (8/26/2005)

His beer glass was filled to the brim, except it wasn't beer that sat in his glass, instead, it was coffee. Malcolm Holcombe took drag after drag on his cigarettes before he would fall under the spell of acoustic guitar. He was possessed by every note, wavering between soul searching harmony and life torn ferocity.

Holcombe and his two acoustic guitars shared a bond, visible on the surface--they both had signs of extreme wear and tear, but the sound they made together was jaw dropping. A native of North Carolina, Holcombe was seated on the stage at Schubas almost as if he were some pan handler asking for change on a street corner. His face was the pure definition of rustic; the body seemed frail under his clothes, but his eyes conveyed a toughness in his soul that could not be broken. What started as three people in a room for an early 7:30 P.M. show turned into a strong group of fans that entered the room the second his voice hit the microphone. The captive audience hung on every word Holcombe sang in his gravely, baritone voice, weathered by age. To those that follow the country/folk scene, Holcombe is highly regarded as a fascinating poet schooled in the blues, bluegrass, and Appalachian song traditions.

The thirty years Holcombe has been playing music came across with each song he picked out of his head. He had no setlist made. He simply asked the soundman to yell out when his set time was almost up and that was it. Someone in the audience would yell out a request ("Dressed In White") and Holcombe would deliver. There was no arrogance about him. He was clearly grateful for the warm applause that showered him after each song and each voice that spoke up from out of the darkness to request a song.

If there is beauty to sadness, then Holcombe has his finger squarely on its pulse. The muse that speaks to Holcombe is not a single voice. Between songs Holcombe would talk about the voices that he hears in his mind. The audience laughed but there was a feeling that Holcombe wasn't quite joking. He talked about these voices as one hundred naked women. "My mind plays tricks in the silence," confessed Holcombe during "I Never Heard You Knocking." With those words, Holcombe painted the picture of a person that would "mumble" and "stutter" in the night. It was a moment where the artist really reflected the art. The music provided his own sort of sanity. Each song became a kind of escape into a story, a different world, and then, after the last note, Holcombe would return to the audience a quiet, humble man.

The song that really captured Holcombe as a person and a musician was a sweet song of thankfulness called "Doin' His Job." Its message was simple and to the point, "Thank you sweet Lord for my job." His voice carried a weariness that could be felt throughout the room. But it wasn't a tale of struggles or defeats. As Holcombe sang each line, you felt as though he was letting off a sigh, proud of the work he has done and aware of the chances he's been given. Whatever was insurgent country about Holcombe that night was unnoticeable. His style of play, inspired and sharp, and manic vocals were not revolts against what would be thought of as country establishment; they were just the roots of a genre that has been glossed over for commercialism. If Tom Waits, John Prine, and Bob Dylan had lived during the Dust Bowl of the 1930s, then Malcolm Holcombe would be the culmination of all three.

Malcolm Holcombe was just doing his job playing music without any reservations. When the night concluded, he and the audience had made a special night.

John Wesley Harding's Love Hall Tryst @ Schubas (8/20/2005)

Leave it to the English singer-songwriter John Wesley Harding to make just another Saturday night into something much more. The troubadour from Hastings, East Sussex was joined by two of Chicago's finest female voices, Nora O'Connor and Kelly Hogan. Along with vocalist Brian Lohmann, Harding presented Songs Of Misfortune, an album which serves as a musical accompaniment to his debut novel Misfortune, written under his given name Wesley Stace.

What sets this latest album apart from the rest of Harding's previous albums is the style in which the album is presented--a cappella. Harding provided a small preview of the album while it was still in its early stages when he first returned to Chicago last January with two sets at Schubas and a night at the Hideout. During those shows, Harding was joined by O'Connor and Hogan. The three would dish out covers like John Prine's "If You Don't Want My Love" and Conway Twitty's "It's Only Make Believe," showcasing to audiences the trio's gorgeous vocal harmonies. It seemed like a no-brainer that the three should make an album together. The end result was a collection of original material by Harding (minus Leonard Cohen's "Joan Of Arc (The Ballad Of La Pucelle)") in the vein of Olde English folk songs that told tales of murder and love in accordance to the relevant chapters in Misfortune.

Over the course of two sets, a 7 P.M. and 10 P.M. time slot, Harding and company let their voices be their only instruments. As if aware that an all out a cappella set would be a strecth for some fans who are used to the singer taking requests and strumming his guitar, Harding eased both audiences with a mini-set of favorites before introducing the Misfortune set. Then, like some campfire setting, the quartet of vocalists gathered on stage and let out this unified, melodic voice. Harding found a terrific balance among the other three vocalists; O'Connor and Hogan as the two angelic singers and Lohmann as the bass. If the voices didn't impress, then surely the mouthful of lyrics that they committed to memory should have. The complexities of the words definitely tested each singer's ability, but they never faltered.


Though all the songs of Misfortune flow together as part of a larger story there was one that stuck out as a song that could stand on its own two feet in Harding's songbook. Sung by O'Connor and Hogan with Harding finger picking on acoustic guitar, "Shallow Brown" became the heart of the set; a gentle, yet, somber song that filled the room like a heart broken hush. Other songs, such as "Lambkin" and "The Sanguinary Butcher" (based on an actual murder in 1742 near Harding's home), remained true to the old oral traditions of telling stories through song. They were songs befitting of the Crusades or some Medieval period in history.




The audience bought the performance and allowed themselves to follow Harding's latest project with great interest. While there are elements to a John Wesley Harding show that could be considered typical from show to show, there was a clear decision by Harding when he made Songs For Misfortune to bring something new to his shows. How The Love Hall Tryst, the name the quartet went by, approached Songs Of Misfortune was somewhat reminiscent of how The Who handled their 1969 rock opera Tommy. In order to make sense of things, Harding had to tell the whole story by performing the album in sequence and it certainly worked. To provide some insight into Harding's a cappella direction, Harding included a song by Lal (Elaine) and Mike Waterson called "Bright Phoebus" in the encores. The brother and sister came out of the English folk scene of the late 1960's where they formed a group with their other sister, Norma, and second cousin, John Harrison, called The Watersons, whom Harding described as The Beatles of English folk music. It was the group's unaccompanied vocal style that Harding cited as an inspiration for the album. Not only was this a sign of Harding's appreciation for the folk music of the past, it was also a display of his deep knowledge of the music's great contributors.

Harding surrounded himself with the right pieces to his vocal puzzle and managed to get his story across without sending his fans into a state of confusion. Songs Of Misfortune gave Harding's show a needed change of pace and gave his fans an experience that was far from just going through the motions. It was a labor of love that Harding was delighted to see take shape on a stage, and with Nora O'Connor, Kelly Hogan, and Brian Lohmann, he achieved so much more.

All Photos By: Chris Castaneda

Can You Hear Us? How The Beatles And Shea Stadium Created A New Arena

On this day, forty years ago, The Beatles drew a record breaking 55,000 at New York's Shea Stadium for what was the largest gathering of people to witness a single performing group. It marked a new beginning for The Beatles but also an end.



In the music business world, The Beatles at Shea Stadium marked a whole new avenue to be explored in terms of concerts. The Beatles gave birth to what would become stadium rock. The highest price for a ticket that day was $5.65. No service charge? Well, how about a Federal Tax of $0.40 tagged onto a City Tax of $0.25? Go on, gather your wits and take a deep breath as you read over those numbers again. By today's concert grossing numbers, the $304,000 earned at Shea Stadium ($160,000 of that to The Beatles) is mere pocket change to the likes of The Rolling Stones or even to Sir Paul McCartney. It's easy to imagine the field day that promoters and Ticketmaster would have had if The Beatles were still present in 2005. The Beatles raised the artistic and commercial bar for others to try and equal. To this day, The Beatles hold the record for the highest album sales in the U.S. with Garth Brooks holding second place.

The performance at Shea Stadium is often remembered as an event rather than a performance simply because of the fact that the incredible volume of the audience drowned out the 30 minute set by The Beatles. Backed by the upgraded Vox AC-100 amplifiers (specially made by Vox for the 1965 tour to replace the band's 30 watt amplifiers) and the stadium's PA system, The Beatles tried everything they could to combat the deafening screams. The little club band from Liverpool, in a way, lost their innocence that day. The kind of shows they were used to giving, where people came to hear the music, were suddenly wiped away. The Beatles probably could have gone on touring without ever plugging their instruments in again. By August 30, 1966, The Beatles would perform their last ever concert in front of a paying audience at San Francisco's Candlestick Park. Although The Beatles would return to Shea Stadium one more time on August 23, 1966, it is the 1965 performance that is remembered the most.

The Beatles Setlist At Shea Stadium - August 15, 1965:
Twist And Shout
She's A Woman
I Feel Fine
Dizzy Miss Lizzy
Ticket To Ride
Everybody's Trying To Be My Baby
Can't Buy Me Love
Baby's In Black
I Wanna Be Your Man
A Hard Day's Night
Help!
I'm Down

In the years following the break up of The Beatles, other acts in rock music would rise and go beyond the accomplishments of the band in the realm of concerts. The band's Shea Stadium record would be broken in less than ten years by another U.K. act known as Led Zeppelin. From baseball fields to football fields, Led Zeppelin thought bigger and their popularity had such clout that on May 5, 1973, the band attracted 56,800 to Tampa Stadium in Florida. At the height of The Who's career, the band scored a milestone by being the first band to perform inside Detroit's Pontiac Stadium on December 6, 1975, in front of a crowd of 75,962 that paid $8.00 a ticket.

Led Zeppelin would later visit that same venue almost two years later and surpass The Who's record with an attendance of 76,229. Ticket cost? $10.50. But in the end, it is a Beatle who holds the record for the largest paying audience ever. Before he was a knight of the British Empire, Paul McCartney was twisting and shouting on April 21, 1990, in front of an estimated crowd of 180,000-184,000 in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. Since The Beatles at Shea Stadium the ticket prices have risen and the venues have gotten bigger. Shea Stadium and The Beatles opened new doors for concerts, for better and for worse--a face value of $450.00 and some Ticketmaster service charges allows you the opportunity to see The Rolling Stones at Chicago's Soldier Field. The sacrifice of The Beatles live show led to new creative heights in the recording studio. While it is easy to wonder "What if?" with The Beatles, it is nice to know that in the end the world of music got a body of work still unparralled today.

Coldplay @ Alpine Valley (8/13/2005)

The lights went down and a countdown began on the massive widescreen video monitor behind Coldplay's set. Chris Martin's silhouette appeared walking along side the monitor towards a microphone. "Square One" pulsated while the roar of the capacity crowd at the Alpine Valley Music Theatre in East Troy, Wisconsin matched the intensity building on stage. In perhaps the band's biggest concert of the summer, Coldplay gave all the evidence they needed to prove their worthiness of all the accolades they've received thus far in their young career.

"Some bands are talented. Some bands are handsome. We're neither," joked singer Chris Martin to the audience. Modesty is still alive in a band that's inarguably one of the major acts of today's music scene. They are musicians with a purpose and the sounds they create together make them quite the unique band. Their latest album X&Y has propelled the band into new creative realms, both refreshing and exciting. Could they become the next U2 since they are often compared to the Irish rockers? Well, for starters, the multi-media show the band presented on stage was just one step down from U2's famously extravagant Zoo TV tour of 1992. So many other similarites could be drawn between the two bands. Chris Martin's frontman persona to make a statement, like his "Make Trade Fair" logo on the side of his piano, shared characteristics with Bono's global spokesman stage presence. Even the other individual members of Coldplay could be linked to their musical counterparts in U2. Jon Buckland's understated guitar work knew when to tone down and when to take the lead. Bassist Guy Berryman and drummer Will Champion make for a deadly rhythm duo. All four pieces were completely interlocked with one another, but, at the same time, demonstarted how loose they can flow together.

The show was filled with its share of cathartic moments; the jazzy feel of "Everything's Not Lost," the romantic somberness of "The Scientist," and the choir flavor of "In My Place." But not to take themselves too seriously, Coldplay had fun. A prop malfunction during "Yellow," just the third song of the night, brought out the laughs from the band and the crowd as bright, yellow balloons meant for the end of the show fell from the pavilion's rafters. Martin gave the audience the job of popping the balloons so they could carry on with the show.

While "The Scientist" faded into silence the band and stage crew went into action to transform the set. The acoustic guitars emerged, and the band treated the audience to a set stripped down from their electronic powered show. In a salute to the late Johnny Cash, Coldplay performed "Til Kingdom Come," a song written by the band for Cash to record before his death. For this set, the band's versatility came more so into the spotlight as Will Champion traded his drums to sing and perform behind the keyboard. Berryman put down his bass to add small harmonica parts as Martin and Buckland strummed their acoustic guitars. Even more fitting was following the song with Cash's own "Ring Of Fire," which received a huge applause from the audience.

Coldplay could do no wrong throughout the cool night. "Thanks for giving us the best job in the history of the world," said Martin to the audience. Coldplay succeeded on so many levels and still managed to show promise for even more greatness. The piano driven "Clocks" packed more of a punch as Champion stampeded behind the drums. "Speed Of Sound" was the perfect under the stars song, weaving space and color with sonic sophistication. Coldplay's accomplishment was evident after the final note of "Fix You" floated out into the night air. Coldplay turned the Alpine Valley Music Theatre into their own field of dreams. With just the right songs performed by just the right musicians, the people came in great numbers from different towns and different cities. Coldplay provided the soundtrack for an extraordinary night and were rewarded with one of their best triumphs yet.

All Photos By: Chris Castaneda

Green Day @ Allstate Arena (8/10/2005)

Green Day rolled up their sleeves as they took over a sold-out crowd at the Allstate Arena on Wednesday night. On the latest leg of their North American tour, Green Day returned as conquering kings still riding a wave of confidence with their Grammy award winning album American Idiot. During a show that packed its share of explosiveness from the songs to the pyrotechnics, Green Day pulled out every arena rock cliche in the book but showmanship factored into the band losing their focus on delivering the real goods--the tunes.

As guitarist Billie Joe Armstrong slashed the opening chords of the band's pledge of allegiance "American Idiot," the band's no mercy attitude flooded the arena just as if it had been boiling for hours backstage, waiting for release. The atmosphere from the very beginning breathed of resistance with banners hanging all around of red fists and the crowd responding in unison to every move Armstrong made. It was the anti-rally of all political rallies. The band appeared on a mission as they fired off song after song in the early moments of the show, sometimes punctuated by song ending explosions. Then the early warning signs began to appear. Armstrong did his best Bono impersonation by breaking out a hand spotlight to shine over the crowd during "Holiday." It was a popular stage act that Bono would perform at U2 concerts during "Bullet The Blue Sky." Armstrong, borrowing from Ozzy Osbourne's bag of stage tricks, later armed himself with a water gun and showered the crowd in mad delight. The Kiss-esque stage presentation was one thing, but Armstrong overextended his frontman position by constantly leading the crowd into chants. Five minutes would be spent on which side of the arena could be louder than the other, thus breaking up the momentum of the show. Even the band's drawn out introduction took up more space than needed to be taken.

If there was indeed a moment where the band-crowd interaction lived up to more than just a routine, it came in the middle of the show when Armstrong orchestrated the formation of a band made up of fans in the audience. One by one, he picked out teenagers (no older than 18 years old) to take up the band's instruments. "Have you ever been laid?" asked Armstrong to his young guitar playing prospect. "Well, you will after tonight." With that remark Armstrong had the young man pulled from the crowd and onto the stage to meet his two new bandmates already holding down a beat. Armstrong became the teacher as he coached his replacement what chords to play. As he counted down the final beat, the fan excitedly launched into the chord and struck his best guitar pose before the cheering crowd. The trio of teens made the most of their once in a lifetime moment and were a beautiful reminder of rock and roll's true, uncorrupted spirit. The fan band went their separate ways but one fan walked away with much more. Armstrong had chosen a girl from the crowd to play Mike Dirnt's bass. He called for her before she departed the stage and presented her with his guitar and a kiss.

When the band found their direction again they hit the ground running. The old glory of songs like "Longview," "She," and "Basket Case" from their 1994 breakout album Dookie still resonated brightly and fiercely as they did ten years ago. Perhaps the most poignant song of the night was "Wake Me Up When September Ends." Already stirring a buzz as a music video depicting a couple affected by the boyfriend's decision to join the U.S. miltary effort in Iraq, the song's statement of disillusionment seemed almost lost to a crowd that slowly waved their lighters and their cell phones--the new lighters of the 21st century--in the air. This wasn't some overblown Maroon 5 or Journey ballad. This was a conscious statement about the time and place the world now finds itself in, but, like all songs, the meanings they are meant to carry can become entirely something else to the ears of a new listener. Regardless, the band pressed on as masters of their arena domain. Armstrong sensed an importance about the sell-out show and often thanked the crowd for their continued support in Chicago; citing the tour has the best the band as ever had and reminiscing about their first ever visit to Chicago as openers for local punk legends The Effigies. Without doubt Green Day has worked their way into becoming an important voice in rock music. What their show at Allstate Arena proved was that Green Day have the seasoned tools to handle the big shows. As they worked their songs with unrelenting conviction, they worked the crowd even harder. In that sense, their concert is truly a shared experience between the band on stage and the people in the seats. But like any band that reaches the levels of the arena, Green Day now have to consider how much theater is too much and recognize when they've gotten too close to surrending their songs for the mirrorballs. The second they cross that line they suddenly become the American idiots they sang against, the bloated rock shows filled with glitter and no magic. For now, Green Day has deservedly earned their top spot in the rock world. Next time just remember to leave the fireworks behind.

All Photos By: Barry Brecheisen

Remembering...

Peter Jennings: 1938-2005

How many six-year-olds could say that they sat down during dinnertime to watch prime time news? Probably not many but I could. To a child of that age, the act of turning on the news to learn of the day’s top stories seems so adult, a grown-up thing. For me, the news served as a transition from afternoon cartoons to much more serious global topics.

The report of Peter Jennings finally succumbing to lung cancer that I caught late Sunday night had an effect on me. As the lead anchor on ABC’s World News Tonight, Jennings was the face and voice I sat in front of at the dinner table for many years of my youth. With two working parents, I was often under the care of my great-grandparents. Living in the same two-story apartment all I had to do was grab my blanket and walk up the stairwell to be with them. As they passed on before I entered grammar school, my mother’s parents were given the responsibility to baby-sit me until my parents’ time at work was done. My grandparents took on extra duties once my younger brother started attending the same grammar school as I. Be it summer days or school days there was always a routine to our day at their home. Naps were few and far between. We were young; we weren’t supposed to be tired. What was a constant was dinner. Around 5 P.M. my grandmother would start to prepare dinner for my grandfather who generally came home from work at the steel mill at 5:30 P.M. or so. By six o’clock, my grandfather would take control of the remote control and turn on the news. This majestic music would pour out of the television followed by a smooth greeting from the anchorman. Next to my grandfather, Peter Jennings was the only other person who could command the dinner table’s attention. Just as my brother and I weren’t allowed to complain of any sort of fatigue at our age we weren’t allowed to interrupt my grandfather’s focus on the news.

In a way, I think my grandfather was trying to make me an informed person regardless of how old I was. He could have easily treated me as a child, but, instead, he treated me like an adult; expecting me to behave in a respectful manner and opening my eyes to what was going on in the world around me. From U.S. politics to international tugs of war, economical debates to interest stories, the Canadian-born Jennings was the window to worlds within worlds. He gave the news a level of sophistication that was pure. If Jennings was reporting it, then it was something I needed to know about. His voice flowed with ease. His very stature on the news set breathed of professionalism.

During the course of my life, twenty-four years, Jennings had served as the lead anchor of World News Tonight for twenty-two years. It always amazes me when I think of the years of service people place into their particular profession. As I’ve watched the various media tributes to Jennings, from Larry King to Ted Koppel, I’ve been reminded why I enjoyed watching Jennings in the first place. Most importantly, I’m reminded of the news era that I’ve lived through. Jennings' death has brought the retirement of Dan Rather at CBS Evening News and Tom Brokaw at NBC Nightly News into a much sharper light to me. News has changed. This very web blog is evidence enough of how people get their news. Television news, like radio, is almost a dinosaur in an era of cable news and the Internet. Journalists have taken the back seat to political pundits and radio talk show hosts that use the television medium as an extension of their agendas. A person’s politics now plays more of a role in the type of news that is being reported—liberal media versus conservative media, the Left versus the Right. Shouting matches have been dressed up as journalism.

Objectivity never looked more graceful than with Peter Jennings. He had the looks of Roger Moore’s James Bond character, something I had never thought of before it was mentioned. The words he spoke danced with elegance and intelligence. The gravity of the news directed how he would handle its delivery. The story came first. If there’s anything that I as a young journalist can take from Jennings and what I saw in him every evening, it is that the measure of quality means more in journalism than vanity. The spotlight could never diminish the quiet dignity Jennings displayed behind the ABC desk. He never forgot that he was performing the duties of a journalist and not a television news anchor. He worked to serve the public and not conglomerates. He asked rather than demanded for our attention; as an audience, we paid him with our trust, a commodity vital to any journalist. He didn’t have to tell the audience that he was looking out for them or that he strove to make sure each story he reported was fair and balanced. His work spoke louder for itself than he could possibly imagine. For all the charm and flare he brought to journalism, Peter Jennings strove to push his abilities to their limits in order to give the best news the public could receive. In the eyes of Jennings, the bar of journalistic excellence could never be allowed to look down, it had to keep looking beyond each horizon it approached. He did his best to ask the tough questions, and he tried as hard as he could to make sense of a world that didn’t always have the most transparent answers. To inform and to educate—they are the two pillars of journalism that often get lost among today’s news media, but, in the hands of Jennings, were always handled with care and respect.

Peter Jennings was 67 years old.

Extra! Extra!

The August issue of Chicago Innerview is now available on-line. The website format has expanded from just feature interviews to include short band write-ups.

I contributed a write-up on Green Day, who will be performing at the Allstate Arena on August 10.

Extra! Extra!

The Hideout has graciously picked up my July 1 article "Not Just A Hole In The Wall" for their press section. This is my second article to be included on the club's website. The first was a Top 5 Chicago Clubs article I did for DePaul University's newspaper The DePaulia where I ranked The Hideout #2 on the list. Thank you to The Hideout for adding Getting In Tune.

The Hideout has also announced the early lineup for the 9th annual Hideout Block Party, set to begin on Saturday, September 17. So far the bill includes The dB's, Nomo, The Sam Roberts Band, The M's, and The Redwalls. Check out The Hideout website located in the links field for further information.

Lollapalooza @ Grant Park (7/23-24/2005)

The long awaited return of Lollapalooza came this past weekend in Grant Park. Perry Farrell's rock and roll circus made a home for itself along Chicago's lakefront, surviving rain and excessive heat warnings. Located in Hutchinson Field, the two day festival drew a crowd of 66,000 to see sixty of music's elite and rising artists on five separate stages in the park's south end. After last year's cancelled tour, Lollapalooza seems to have found new life, but some critics might say the festival's past is still holding it back from becoming one of the most attractive music events of the summer.

Early Saturday morning the city received some welcomed rain after consecutive days of high humidity and very little relief. For the organizers of Lollapalooza, the rain was probably not on their schedule. In a way, the downpour acted as a baptism for this much heralded festival. The lost summer Lollapalooza experienced in 2004 because of poor ticket sales forced its creator, Perry Farrell, to reinvent his traveling musical revue. With the aid of Capital Sports & Entertainment (CSE) and Charles Attal Presents, Lollapalooza received an overhaul. The two entertainment organizations, both based in Austin, Texas, came into Lollapalooza's life with a serious knowledge of how to make a festival work having had enormous success with the Austin City Limits Music Festival, now entering its third year. Instead of a multi-city festival, Lollapalooza's wide scope was downsized into a more focused approach. On April 22, 2005, plans were finally secured and an annoucement was made that revealed Chicago as the new official home for Lollapalooza.

The rain had cleared up by about 9:30 A.M. The sun fought its way through some clouds as the hour drew closer for the day's first two performers, The Redwalls and The (International) Noise Conspiracy, to launch Day One. During a pre-show press conference, Charlie Jones, a spokesperson for CSE, described Grant Park as Chicago's "crown jewel," and expressed the hopes of the organizers to make Lollapalooza "the greatest fest in the country." For Perry Farrell, it had been a long journey since 1991, when the festival was first started. In a city where rock bands like The Smashing Pumpkins were denied entry into its prized park to perform for free, Chicago did not simply turn a cheek lightly when the idea to hold Lollapalooza was presented. What made performances by Sting and Shania Twain get the free pass into Grant Park was the major incentive the city would get in return: money. "It was like a beautiful woman," said Farrell on courting the city government. "She took her time." It is reported that the promoters' deal with the city outlined a donation of $250,000 to the Parkways Foundation, the presenters of Lollapalooza.

Fresh from a supporting slot for Oasis on their U.K. stadium tour, The Redwalls had the distinct honor of being the first local act to start the day. Going from Metro to Manchester Stadium was quite a leap for this four piece out of Deerfield, IL. Set to play at 11:45 A.M., generally not an hour to play a concert, The Redwalls took to their stage with sheer confidence. Liam Gallagher of Oasis must have had made an impact on Redwalls guitarist Logan Baren who seemed to take on some of the Oasis frontman's stage mannerisms and vocal swagger, not to mention wearing sunglasses presented to him by the younger Gallagher. "I think we would have been more nervous if we hadn't done the Oasis thing," said bassist Justin Baren, younger brother to Logan, about the prospect of playing to a large outdoor crowd. The band was welcomed by a strong sized crowd that surpassed any concerns the band may have had on the early time slot. Said Justin after the band's set, "I was nervous that not a lot of people would show up that early, but it turned out great."















Following The (International) Noise Conspiracy's set was ...And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead. The band furiously attacked the afternoon by making the most of their hour set, trashing their instruments in the end. Walking the grounds between stages provided a chance to see at what point the sound from opposite stages bled into each other. If one were to stand in the middle of the field, they would get a mix of both stages. The closer you were to a particular stage the less likely you would hear the other act performing across the field. Being that every band faced simultaneous time slots they couldn't help but notice another artist on their time.

Singer Ricky Wilson of the Kaiser Chiefs pointed out this very fact when over at the SBC West stage Liz Phair began her performance. As brash as he was amusing, Wilson inquired who that "lady" was on the neighboring stage. Fans yelled out to Wilson, "Liz Phair!" He glanced over to Phair's side of the field and recommended she keep it down. "Tell her we're working," said Wilson. The band thrashed through their set as their singer pushed the limits of his already shredded voice ("I left my voice in Washington last night," said Wilson). Wilson later climbed the stage supports and turned the microphone over to two fans after his voice finally gave out.

Liz Phair, on the other hand, lacked all the spontaneity the Kaiser Chiefs displayed during their set. Phair, who has long since left Chicago for Los Angeles, walked through her set with little excitement. Her backing band almost reduced Phair to some coffee house open-mic performer. A new song called "Everything To Me" was close to being jettisoned due to her guitarist having issues with his guitar. There was some confusion when Phair announced she would tackle a song on her own. As if unsure what to do, her bassist and drummer stepped into what was supposed to be a solo Phair doing "6'1"" while her guitarist figured out his problems. It would have been a nice treat if Phair had in fact dumped "Everything To Me." What will no doubt become a single from her upcoming album, the song screamed of something Sheryl Crow would have written for her cycling boyfriend Lance Armstrong. It's hard to even associate Phair with Chicago anymore. Her stale performance gave all the more reason why Phair didn't deserve a spot on the Lollapalooza bill. She can test the boundaries of human sexuality in song all she wants but commanding a festival sized stage she can not. At least John Cusack had a good view from the side of the stage.

The Ohio duo The Black Keys disproved any comparisons to The White Stripes. Dan Auerbach's fluid style of play on the guitar expressed a clear leaning towards the blues, while Patrick Carney's drumming added that extra ingredient that made them a rock band. It was no wonder why the famed blues label Fat Possum Records took this band in. The Black Keys completely took a part The Beatles' "She Said, She Said," turning it into a smashing, psychedelic, blues infused tune.

"And now for the fun stuff," said Perry Farrell to an eager audience looking to see the Pixies make their appearance. Since reforming at the 2004 Coachella Valley Music Festival in Indio, California, the Pixies remained a hot ticket, selling out five consecutive nights at the Aragon Ballroom just this past November in Chicago. As the only band brought back from the failed Lollapalooza 2004 lineup, the Pixies took a co-headlining position alongside Weezer. Farrell wrapped up his introduction by calling the Pixies, "One of the seminal rock bands of the 80's." Facing the Chicago skyline, the Pixies delievered the usual standards that have been part of their reunion set for a year. Fans still roared to the sounds of "Head On," "Debaser," and "Where Is My Mind?"



But the Pixies acted very distant as they flipped through their songs like you would flip through a magazine where you simply look at the pictures. They might have been working off the set list they intended to use for their headlining spot on last year's Lollapaloooza. Interaction with the crowd was nonexistent. When you've cashed a check for a reported $270,000 then maybe there's no obligation to have to talk to a crowd.






##Photo By: John Castaneda

Park District Superintendent Tim Mitchell joined Farrell on stage before Weezer arrived for their set. The day had ran smoothly, and Mitchell's face, as he scanned the 33,000 in attendance, conveyed a sense of satisfaction; that organizing this festival might be a good thing for the city afterall. But the attention was soon redirected to Rivers Cuomo and company as they grabbed their instruments and sent the crowd into a frenzy with the opener "Say It Ain't So." Weezer mixed the old with the new and made more of a connection with the crowd than the Pixies had done. Cuomo struck the occasional rock guitarist pose, feeding off the crowd and making every song count. Watching Patrick Wilson work behind the drumkit was like being able to see a younger Bun E. Carlos of Cheap Trick--each possessing flare and power with the drums. "We're so happy to be a part of Lollapalooza, finally," said Cuomo to the sea of hands forming W's in the air, chanting the band's name.


Lollapalooza's first day was a success. The weather never caused any detours, and the heat was replaced by moderately cool tempertures. The early afternoon sets saw an overcast of clouds while the sun finally broke out in the early evening hours to provide a pleasurable setting. Organizers may have breathed a sigh of relief by the end of the night, but there was still one more day to go.





Sunday's weather was expected to reach 100 degrees with a humidity level thick as a brick wall. The wind that would blow through the field would pick up the dirt off the baseball diamonds and become a gust of warm, dusty wind. A security guard working the Parkways Stage, part of a security company from Iowa, described how the heat played into their hands to keep crowds in control. Basically, everyone was too tired to argue with security. Keeping the crowds in control weighed less than keeping the crowds hydrated, which organizers and security accomplished very well. Water stations were in place to allow people to refill their water bottles. Free ice and water was given to people in crowds. When the music wasn't coming from any of the stages there was a quiet air to the fest. People sought out shade and water as fast and as often as they could.

The sun baked the Parkways Stage as Tegan And Sara performed. The twin sisters made themselves prime targets for the sun by both dressing in black. Sara (seen above) suffered a heat stroke and was unable to carry on with the set. As much of a disappointment to fans, it was surely a disappointment to the band who fought off the weather as best as they could. In the end, health was more important than getting to the next song. Meanwhile at the SBC East stage, Perry Farrell unveiled his group Satellite Party. Like Farrell, the band was over the top, including bassist Tony Kanal of No Doubt, ex-Extreme guitarist Nuno Bettencount, and a dancing trio called the Lolla Girls.
















The Drive-By-Truckers arrived to the SBC West stage with guitar licks and fat bottomed bass; not to mention their own stash of Pabst Blue Ribbon, the drink of choice for these southerners. The heat remained in full effect as evening sets by The Arcade Fire and Spoon proceeded. Widespread Panic was alotted two and a half hours split into two time slots. The jam band restrained themselves and stuck to songs during their 6:30 P.M. slot and saved the marathon jam fests for the final headlining spot. The real anticipation was reserved for The Killers.
















The Killers have gone from a band with some buzz to a band you can not escape. While their debut album Hot Fuss as been one of the most successful EPs in the guise of an album, the heavy momentum for The Killers as continued to carry them higher and higher. Singles like "Somebody Told Me," "Mr. Brightside," and "All These Things That I've Done" all seem to have hit the airwaves at the right time, keeping this Las Vegas band fresh in the ears of listeners. Singer Brandon Flowers embraced Perry Farrell after his introduction and as soon as "Jenny Was A Friend Of Mine" hit its first note, The Killers owned the crowd. Maybe to fans gathering for Death Cab For Cutie at the Budweiser Select stage, The Killers did not deserve their time. The Killers certainly don't scream "indie," but you had to wonder if their performance of the tongue in cheek "Indie Rock And Roll" wasn't directed towards those that act the role of musical connoisseur.

When Death Cab For Cutie did hit the stage the night was near its end. Lollapalooza had survived the rain, the heat, and managed to run close to schedule. But there was still an aspect to the newly designed festival that didn't quite live up to its reputation. That one element was diversity. The four stages in Hutchinson Field were mainly an all-rock affair. Across S. Columbus Drive was the Planet Stage, the lone area to catch any sort of hip-hop or house music acts. This section of the park felt more like a small block party that happened to be next door to a major music festival. They were outsiders to a festival just a few feet away. Only the Digable Planets, Saul Williams, and G Love & Special Sauce had the opportunity to take on some of the main stages in the park. Organizers may want to reconsider the festival's configuration if it wants to create a real, diverse musical atmosphere.

The question of whether or not Lollapalooza will every capture the sparkle of magic it displayed in the early 90's is irrelevant by 2005. The festival is whatever the bands and the fans make it. There's a reason why critics do not closely examine Coachella or the Austin City Limits Festival--they are relatively young festivals without the body of history Lollapalooza has amassed in its time. Lollapalooza emerged at the right place and the right time. For now, Perry Farrell should be happy with the new home for his festival. Chicago should realize that the city is now in a position to contend with cities like Austin, Texas that have been synonymous with music festivals. Lollapalooza will be able to attract the types of artists that people may not be able to see at annual fests like the Chicago Blues Fest or the Taste of Chicago.

The beginning of a beautiful relationship? So far, so good.

(All Photos By: Chris Castaneda) Except ##

Tom Petty And The Heartbreakers @ Tweeter Center (7/15/2005)

"Even the losers get lucky sometimes"

And sometimes the luck turns bad. I was able to experience both sides of the coin at the Tweeter Center in Tinley Park, IL, just outside of Chicago. In their first appearance in two years since taking up residency at the Vic Theatre for a five night romp, Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers returned to a sold out Tweeter Center. As Petty annouced to the vast crowd of 30,000, "Tonight we have an All-American rock 'n' roll show."

Like most rock 'n' roll shows traffic shares a bit of the spotlight. For me, it had been over two years since I saw a show at the Tweeter Center. (My previous visit was for The Who, the first time I truly understood why so many concertgoers complained about the venue.) The hour wait to be parked at the back end of a field added to the stress held on reserve for the hour plus endurance fest I knew I would have to deal with when leaving. The waiting is the hardest part. Sound wasn't going to be an issue for me since I had the good fortune of being granted a photo pass for the show. I could only imagine how it would sound for the thousands on the lawn who are forced to deal with the pavilion's lousy configuration. I've watched shows from the lawn before, but The Who's 2002 show revealed to me how the pavilion's second level box seats traps so much of the sound. You would be better off sitting at home with a concert DVD. Amphitheaters like Alpine Valley in East Troy, Wisconsin and Shoreline Amphitheater in Mountain View, California have open pavilions that provide a strong sound and visual experience.

As my eyes glanced over the crowd from the photo pit, a sudden rush came over me. I was actually nervous about taking pictures in front of 30,000 people. It was strange. I told one of the photographers, a veteran and good aquaintance of mine, and he slightly laughed. I suppose when I begin to find reviewing or photographing concerts to be an absolute bore is when I lose my soul and become some bitter, old rock critic wrapped up in my personal record collection.




Tom Petty must wake up every morning thanking the powers that be that at his age he is at his utmost best. As classic a sound Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers have made for themselves, they have also maintained a level of excitement that has kept the band fresh on stage. Since original drummer Stan Lynch left the group in 1994 and the death of ex-bassist Howie Epstein in 2003, Tom Petty has managed to keep the ship steady.



With current drummer Steve Ferrone, multi-instrumentalist Scott Thurston, and original bassist Ron Blair (whom Epstein replaced in 1982), the overall band was functioning like some seasoned race horse. To label the show as a run through the "greatest hits" would be fair but nothing negative. The first eight songs ranged between ten and thirty years old with the exception of a raunchy new song called "Turn This Car Around." The band's last studio release was 2002's The Last DJ, and nothing from that album got played in the mix. The breeze felt by the opening song "Listen To Her Heart" said all that needed to be said by the band: we love our songs. They are a band proud of their catalog and have no reservations about reaching back. Their modern day endeavors prior to The Last DJ--Petty's solo album Wildflowers (1994), the 1995 soundtrack to She's All That, Echo (1999)--have all been outstanding, each in their own way.

What was so evident as the band played on was how well Petty has a masterful handle on making the harmonies the song's primary hook. "Free Fallin'" and "I Won't Back Down" soared with their pristine Rickenbacker tones resonating throughout the night air. Then came some bad news. During "Last Dance With Mary Jane," a representative of Tweeter Center entered the photo pit to inform the photographers that they all had to exit. When I was told the news I was slightly confused, a feeling shared by each photographer as I read their faces in reaction to the new developments. We were all told that Tom Petty's photo policy encouraged photographers to shoot as much of the show as they would like, thus giving photographers the freedom to remain in the photo pit for the entire show. Generally, the standard photo policy for any band is photographers are allowed to shoot the first three songs of a set and then must leave. As I left the pit area at the end of the song, I wondered how I was going to review the concert if I couldn't see it. The photo pass was my only access since review passes were no longer available. Unless someone had a free ticket to the show I had no way back, either to the lawn area or pavilion.

I was told that it was tour management for Petty that made the decision to reverse their policy. I headed out to the parking lot, feeling cheated, as "Handle With Care" rocked on in the background. My emotions soon changed to concern about locating my parking spot since where I had parked had no lights of any kind to illuminate the cars.

After some searching and squinting in the darkness, I found my car, maneuvered carefully out of the tightly confined space, and watched the Tweeter Center fade in my rearviewmirror. I thought two things: I got to watch one of the most amazing bands closer than anyone in the crowd and that at any time, management can step in to say, "We changed our minds." But couldn't they have at least held off till after "Runnin' Down A Dream"?

Well, at the end of my night, I didn't burn Tom Petty albums.

*All Photos By: Chris Castaneda*

Play Or Nay

Ryan Adams & The Cardinals - Cold Roses (Lost Highway)

As a song title, "Sweet Illusions" really sums up the latest effort by Ryan Adams. What a sweet illusion his career has been from Whiskeytown to the present day, over eight years. He's been deemed a bad boy to a heart-on-his-sleeve songwriter. He is a musician of clear promise trapped by the walls of his own creation. On the double album Cold Roses, Adams laments from one song to the next without ever reaching for a new box of Kleenex.

Double albums always come with some dodgy turf. The excess of material tends to raise the argument that some songs could have been cut to make a more focused single album. Adams has had some trouble maintaining a tight aim since 2002's Demolition, a collection of unreleased demos. In 2003, Adams readied an album called Love Is Hell, but his record label told him to go back to the drawing board. Instead, Adams released the abysmal Rock N Roll--a jean jacket, amped up, blood, sweat and beer affair that came nowhere near its rock star diva persona. At the same time, Adams had his way by having Love Is Hell broken into two EPs, almost as if saying to listeners, "Here's what I really wanted to release but was told is wasn't good enough." Just last year the Love Is Hell EPs were released as a full album, and, according to Adams, Cold Roses will be the first of three releases Adams has in store for this year. Call it massive creative output or just clearing out the closet.

But Cold Roses is nothing more than a frigid album with very few moments of warmth. The second "Magnolia Mountain" begins disc one to the end of "Friends" on disc two there's never the sense of cohesion. Both albums run in a very stark, lackluster pace with Adams taking a slow drag with every word he sings. It's almost like Adams recorded the whole album on fifteen minutes of sleep. Over eighteen songs, Adams hits a redeemable note on "When Will You Come Back Home." Sure, it's still one song in a catalog of songs that deal with the same story: the brokenhearted soul yearning for the unattainable girl, drowning sorrows at the bar. Maybe that's forever Adams' forte as a songwriter. An album's worth of "When Will You Come Back Home" may not have made for a better album, but spreading the magic of that song across the rest of the album wouldn't have hurt.

Whether or not he'll ever expand his creative scope in the manner of which songwriters like Paul Westerberg, Jay Farrar and Jeff Tweedy have done in their careers--artists often said to be Adams' measuring stick--Adams remains at the end of the bar near the jukebox, close enough to select the usual tunes.

Extra! Extra! Mid-Year Delights

Oasis – Don’t Believe The Truth (Epic) – Since Jim immortalized me in his Oasis concert review I have to list this album just to spite him and continue our behind-closed-doors debate. I still don’t know who Jim DeRogatis is anymore.



Star Wars : Episode III – Revenge of the Sith (Sony Classical) – Who says an original motion picture score can’t stand along side a rock album? By far, John Williams’ finest work to date.






Queens of the Stone Age – Lullabies to Paralyze (Interscope Records) – There’s enough twists and turns to keep me wanting to hear more. “Long Slow Goodbye” is sinisterly smooth to the bone.



Son Volt – Okemah and the Melody Riot (Transmit Sound/Legacy) – Farrar makes his most energetic solo album under the Son Volt name. Farrar has nothing to prove but has a lot to say.






Garbage - Bleed Like Me (Geffen Records) - The album starts off by lifting lines from Foreigner's "Hot Blooded." I got the joke. Fortunately, the rest of the album wasn't.



Beck - Guero (Interscope Records) - Listening to this album is like walking knee deep in mud and actually enjoying it.

The White Stripes - Get Behind Me Satan (V2 Records) - Oh my god! They can write songs that all don't sound like "Fell In Love With A Girl." Now, if only Jack can dump the shtick about Meg being his sister.


Doves – Some Cities (Capitol) – This other band from Manchester, England went for the straightforward approach and came up with gems like “Black and White Town” and “Ambition.”






Stereophonics – Language. Sex. Violence. Other? (V2 Records) – The Black Crowes + Oasis = New Stereophonics Album. “Dakota” deserves to be among the summer’s best singles.


Coldplay – X&Y (Capitol) – I concede. Coldplay won me over with an album that is both daring and fresh, not to mention has Oasis’ Definitely Maybe to thank for even being made.



*The Sound Opinions crew have compiled lists of their best of the mid-year. My list is based on albums that are under my roof, bear the seal of 2005, and have been given more than one listen. To read the entire crew's list, check out the Sound Opinions site and click the "Best of 2005 (so far)" image.

Play Or Nay

Son Volt - Okemah And The Melody Of Riot (Transmit Sound/Legacy)

"Bandages & Scars" seems an appropriate title as the lead off track of the first Son Volt album in seven years. While the title may suggest the thumps Jay Farrar took from his former bandmates in reforming the band, it is just a small stroke to a larger painting Farrar is presenting.

It might be said that Jay Farrar and Son Volt are one in the same. How listeners distinguish between a solo effort and a band effort is by simply looking at whose name is on the album. That's all well and fine. But for some Son Volt fans, it's been a good wait since 1998's Wide Swing Tremolo. Original members Dave and Jim Boquist and Mike Heidorn, Farrar's drummer since Uncle Tupelo, took a pass on a new Son Volt album. What they have taken a pass on is an excited Farrar on an electric guitar with things to say.

The album's title references Woody Guthrie's hometown of Okemah, Oklahoma. The political consciousness of Guthrie seems to have rubbed off on Farrar; clearly evident in the line, "The words of Woody Guthrie ringing in my head." On "Jet Pilot," President George W. Bush and his father, former President George H. Bush Sr., take the blunt end of Farrar's pen. To say Farrar is soft with his criticism of President George W. Bush and the conflict in Iraq, that would be an understatment. "Endless War" voices the sentiment, "Still trying to understand/How another wrong makes a right." Farrar isn't suddenly stepping into the spotlight of political activist, but he is commenting as an individual, a citizen, a husband, and a father on the world he lives in.

It seems that Son Volt has opened a new chapter for Farrar. Okemah And The Melody Of Riot is the most potent collection of material from Farrar in recent years. "6 String Belief" and "Afterglow 61" capture Farrar's still burning fire for rock and roll and its optimism that it can carry in an age of cynicism. But it's the album's final moments that gives it a graceful conclusion. "World Waits For You" places Farrar at the piano. Its flowing soulfulness receives a boost from his gentle delivery which give it a romantic touch.

It is Farrar's newfound musicality that has brought a breath of fresh air to a band that has been dormant for seven years and a songwriter who hasn't lost sight of the bigger picture.

Thunderfingers. The Ox. Entwistle.

Taste of Chicago - July 5, 2001 (Photo By: Chris Castaneda)

It was one of those perfect Chicago summer days: the humidity wasn't too high, and the breeze from the lake front was just right.

One day after Wilco's successful headlining of the WXRT Free 4th of July concert at Grant Park, John Entwistle joined Alan Parsons, Ann Wilson of Heart, and Todd Rundgren for a Beatles tribute show titled "A Walk Down Abbey Road." The fact that the famed Who bassist was going to lay his fingers on songs penned by a peer group from the British Invasion of the 1960's was almost too irresistible to pass up.

Little did anyone know that almost a year later in a Las Vegas hotel room the 57-year-old Entwistle would be gone, dead from a heart attack attributed to cocaine. Like his former bandmate Keith Moon, who died in 1978 of a drug overdose, Entwistle's death was considered "accidental" by the medical examiner. Hearing the news made my knees buckle. Fans of The Who that remember the day they heard the news of Keith Moon's death probably felt the same way. All you can try to do it make sense of the whole situation. Here was a man, Entwistle, who was in the unique position as a musician of being in the absolute prime of his abilities. It's the rock 'n' roll mentality that the older you get the less you can capture the fire of your youth. For Entwistle, it didn't seem that hard to accomplish. His statue-esque presence on stage never altered, but his fingers always remained in a fury.

My introduction to The Who was when I was 15 and I rented the documentary The Kids Are Alright (1979). Whenever I went to the nearby video rental store I always headed towards the music video section. Once I decided I rented all their copies of R.E.M. videos one too many times, I randomly picked The Who mainly because of the original VHS box it came in. The image that struck me the most on the box was Pete Townshend--bearded, right fist in the air, legs spread apart while his left hand was squeezing some power chord. I knew not one Who song. But as I watched Townshend destroy his equipment and Moon thrash his drum kit to pieces during an appearance on a 1967 episode of The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour I picked up my jaw from off my bedroom floor and popped my eyes back into their sockets. "My Generation" had just redefined everything I thought I knew about rock music up to that point. I went from wanting to be Peter Buck of R.E.M. to wanting to be Pete Townshend.

By the time of my 16th birthday, my father had bought me a copy of The Who's second rock opera, Quadrophenia (1973). He had ragged on me for playing too much Who in the house but stood by Quadrophenia as his favorite Who album (probably since he saw the band in 1973 at the International Amphitheater in Chicago). As part of my birthday breakfast, he allowed me the chance to play the album on his stereo. It was quite the honor back then to even touch my dad's stereo system. All he could talk about was how great a song "Punk And The Godfather" was and how the show he saw was amazing.

Taste of Chicago - July 5, 2001(Photo By: Chris Castaneda)

July 20, 1997--my dad got a phone call from a friend that had tickets for a show that he couldn't make and asked if my dad would be interested in going instead. I was called to the living room where my dad was conversing over the phone. "Do you want to see The Who? I can't go."

Oh my stars. I probably fumbled my words before I could finally say, "Yes." The Who were touring Quadrophenia and were performing that day at the beloved New World Music Theatre out in Tinley Park. I'm being slighty sarcastic about the venue, now called the Tweeter Center. It's rather hated by many for its horrendous sound as a venue. I didn't care at that moment though. Two tickets were offered to me. Now the only question was who would I go with? Well, that came easy. I asked the one friend who had his license already and a car. So, I called my friend and within 15 minutes we were off to experience The Who live. It's funny to think back to how those tickets sent our egos skyrocketing. Box seats. VIP parking. What more could two 16-year-olds ask for?

The show was incredible. Quadrophenia had been my soundtrack to being 16. To me, it summed up everything about being a teenager. Next to my personal favorite "I'm One" was the highlight performance of "5.15". Taking the spotlight was Entwistle and his gargantuan bass solo. From the second Roger Daltrey screamed out "Then I heard thunder," Entwistle stepped in and took over the song. I couldn't believe the speed of his fingers or the sound he created from his corner of the stage. You felt each note rattling your teeth.

I walked away from that show having felt I just saw one of the great rock bands ever still playing like they were one of the greats. Minus Keith Moon, I still felt the spirit of The Who was alive and well. I can still picture Townshend standing at the edge of the stage as "Who Are You" was rumbling to an end and seeing him launch his guitar straight up into the air. And I still remember the gentleman in the next box seat that did his best Keith Moon air drum impression throughout the entire show.

I would have the chance to see The Who one more time in 2000 at the Hollywood Bowl. When Entwistle returned to Chicago for the Beatles tribute in 2001, The Who continued talk of a new album and more touring. On that July day in Grant Park, Entwistle gave a weight to Beatles songs I never thought was possible. His performance with the tribute band made me wonder what he would have been like as the bassist for The Beatles. The dimensions he added to songs like "Day Tripper" and "The End" were a testament to the high level of musicianship he had immersed during his many years of performing.

On June 27, 2002, I took an acoustic guitar to a cafe I usually performed open-mic shows at to do a small tribute to the news that Entwistle died. I played what I knew off the top of my head: "Pinball Wizard," "I'm One," and "Baba O'Riley." Someone came up to me afterwards and thanked me for my set and pointed out the black armband he wore for Entwistle.

I had tickets to see The Who on their '02 tour for shows in Chicago and Indianapolis-Noblesville. Townshend and Daltrey marched on with the tour. I honestly didn't think they should have gone on with that tour. The Chicago performance, which made me realize why the Tweeter Center was detested, left me feeling unexcited but the following night down in Indianapolis--a show I almost missed due to missing an exit and near entry into Ohio--I saw a glimmer of The Who fire that gave me hope. The hope it gave me was that The Who name wasn't being soldiered on for the purpose of living up to the reputation of the name. Entwistle's absence was evident in each song. It's often said that the drummer is always the backbone to any band, but for The Who it was Entwistle. He was the pure musician of the band. Whenever Moon pounded every piece of his kit under 30 seconds or Townshend windmilled his solos, Entwistle kept some form of a foundation intact. He had a sixth sense when it came to Moon and Townshend.

Although I felt the '02 should never have happened I later reversed my opinion. On the eve of a major tour, The Who had to consider the people involved with the tour. There's that one lighting tech who may depend on the summer stint with the band to make ends meet. Probably much of their road crew had been with the band for many years and that's the only job they have for several months of the year. But the tour became a form of therapy. When John Lennon was killed people played Beatles music. When Freddie Mercury died Queen put on a tribute concert. For Who fans, they went to see The Who play Who songs.

Entwistle left a mark that was his own and can never be touched. The debate whether or not a band's name means anything anymore after an original member passes away will swing back and forth. Some say The Who stopped being The Who when Moon died, and some say as long as Townshend picks up a guitar The Who remain The Who. What can't be debated is Entwistle's contributions to the music. He was the constant, the guiding light, to a sound that made the Big Bang seem like a thundercracker on the 4th of July.