What a coincidence. Two of the most seasoned rockers who ever lived, two guys from similar working class backgrounds, two members of bands whose music and off stage lives are the stuff that classic rock legend is made of, two members of the Rock Hall of Fame, both were born in March.
The similarities and career paths of both artists have been far from linear, but they both survived the ravages of the rock star lifestyle, and here they were on the same bill in South Florida, playing in a hockey arena - a hockey arena where hockey games barely manage to start on time, much less rock concerts.
A Different Kind of Night
This night was different in more ways than this space will permit describing. The adherence to the stated starting time on the ticket was only the beginning. In a house where concerts typically begin anywhere from 25 to 90 minutes later than advertised, things got different early. Really early. I settled into my (cheap) seat at 7:29 and damned if the house lights didn’t dim at precisely 7:30 as Daltrey and band took to the stage.
It might just be that the right mix of the sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll have after effects previously unknown. Daltrey looked fantastic. He was in shape, engaged, pumped and visibly delighted to be performing. This night he was performing with a bassist, two guitarists, a keyboard tickler and a drummer.
All the musicians except the drummer provided background vocals resulting in five part harmonies. I don’t know about you, but I have a hard time recalling the last time The Who had five part harmony. The backup vocals lent a new and different dimension to many a familiar song.
They opened with "I Can See For Miles" with Roger on guitar. Why is it that every lead singer is a frustrated guitarist, but most guitarists are happy to be guitarists? That one has stumped my for years. As he segued into "Can You See The Real Me?" one fact was established with crystalline clarity: Daltrey was in prime form, a veritable tour de force. His voice was strong. He has learned to adjust his register as certain keys can no longer be found or reached. He has successfully made the transition to his new vocal reality and mastered this next level.
Story Time with Uncle Rog
Roger noted that the last time he was a supporting act was in 1964 when The Who opened for Rolling Stones. He pointed out how things are much different as an opening act. The dressing room isn’t as large or as nice as the headliner's, sound check happens late, if at all. He wasn't complaining, just articulating the irony after 45+ years of headlining.
A Taj Mahal number, "Freedom Man" was a fusion of blues, country, bluegrass and a hint of rockabilly. The Who's classic "Behind Blue Eyes" showcased the aforementioned five part harmonies, interwoven perfectly. Daltrey sang the song as if he owned it.
"Gimme A Stone" was another country/rockabilly flavored offering and "Days of Night" was a doo-wop-meets-Doobie Brothers anthem which Roger dedicated to his days as a sheet metal worker, logging 50+ hour work weeks and living for the weekend. "Who Are You?" let Roger air out his vocal cords in a way I haven’t seen him accomplish in many a year.
Simon Townshend (Pete’s younger sibling and an accomplished player in his own right) quite credibly handled lead vocals while Roger blew harp on the Who’s Next rave up, "Going Mobile." The signature move that forever cemented Daltrey as a rock icon, the boomeranging microphone made a cameo appearance on "Young Man Blues." He lit into this lament of youth with a passion he displayed 35+ years ago when I first saw The Who perform live. And to think, this dude is 66. Wow.
The anthem of all Who anthems, "Baba O’Reilly" closed the set with the entire crowd standing and singing choruses, lyrics, whatever they thought they could remember.
And Now for the Efficient Portion of the Evening
The Daltrey set beginning on time was an omen. Promptly at 8:42 the house lights once again dimmed and it was Clapton's turn. The band -- two female backup singers, a bassist, drummer and two keyboard players -- took to the stage, followed by Clapton.
Going to an Eric Clapton concert is a bit like watching an episode of Iron Chef. You know you're about to watch a master artist perform, you see the raw ingredients, and you have absolutely no clue what the final composition will be like. Along the journey from preparation to final presentation, your jaw drops at least once, as you wonder, "How in the hell did he just do that?"
This night produced an extremely efficient 90 minute set, with one encore. Virtually every song Clapton played seemed like an alternate take, paying homage to the original composition, but with nuances, subtleties and variations that made each song, in its own way, sound new.
The set kicked off with "Going Down Slow" and segued into a honky tonk-ish instrumental opening to "Key To The Highway." On "Tell The Truth" he shifted up a gear and began to accelerate, with a blistering, soulful "Old Love" and what started out as a perfunctory rendition of "I Shot The Sheriff," which morphed mid-song into something truly special. Acoustic and alone, Clapton followed with something he religiously does at every live show I've ever seen him play -- he dropped in a blues number (whose title escapes me - blame it on the 70s.) It was finger picking good, showcasing his versatility as a player.
Back to the Blues
The band returned and he continued playing his acoustic on next four songs, "Nobody Knows You When You’re Down and Out," "Love Comes Over You," "Layla" and "Rock and Roll Heart" (which he dedicated to his family.) Each was a gem, embodying the unique imprint Clapton seemed determined to impart this night.
The electric Fender replaced the acoustic for a hell raising version of "Badge." "Wonderful Tonight" was a rest before a rock 'n' roll stew version of "Before You Accuse Me." Then he did it again: slipped in a blues beauty (whose title also eludes me.)
"Cocaine" closed out the set. Hardly more than a total of two minutes between songs was squandered. It was an exercise in efficiency. "Crossroads" was the one encore the crowd was afforded and, like the stable of songs showcased this night, it was a version unlike any I’ve ever heard before.
Clapton's playing this evening was as masterful as ever, his voice strong and resonant. The band and back up singers were competent to the core and provided the perfect accompaniment. There was just one nagging hair out of place. Clapton didn't look well. He smiled for the first time at the three quarter mark of the show and seemed preoccupied, with his thoughts elsewhere, particularly early in the set. If indeed there was something going on in his world, his musicianship was none the worse for it. He was, as usual, god-like in his delivery. But I guess even gods get the blues.
