Light Over Broadway

When October rolled around it was Steely Dan time again. I had to sell the Clapton ticket for rent. But no matter the setbacks, I still had a mission to complete. Donald Fagen and his cohort played a 9-show residency at New York’s eminent Beacon Theater. I had tickets for four nights. And the Beacon was good to me. Yeah, man, I caught good tickets in the blower booth for these shows. Great front row seats in the Upper Balcony; great views every night. I was able to rest my elbows on the rail to steady the binoculars, to see up close. To see better. In fact, I was able to see that Fagen’s bald spot was the same size as mine, and that we both cared little about combing it.

But that stupid, gun-shy doubt was still rattling me. Even taking my seat that first night at the Beacon, I couldn’t help thinking, “This could still not happen. The state could shut it down. The cops could rush in and yank me out for smiling on a cloudy day in Newark a month ago. The floor could fall out from under us all.” Ticketmaster had said, “You’re In!” Camden and Curveball said, “You’re out!” I told Clapton and Stubhub, “I’m out!” What next?

As it turned out, four awesome Steely Dan shows were next. Donald Fagen nailed the songs, mowed the lawn and took us where we belonged. Even though Walter Becker no longer was, the atmosphere was bright in the theater. We all cheered and clapped each night at the line, “Hey Nineteen, that’s ‘Retha Franklin.” She had recently died. We missed her and Becker too. “I’d like to thank my friend Walter for writing these songs with me,” said Fagen. And believe me, the new guitarist, Jon Herington, is superb. Not a note out of place. I’d love to see him again.

I admit my mind hovered over and updated some of the more adamant lyrics. After all, Fagen spoke of the World between songs at two of the shows, so I felt permitted. Famous Steely Dan lyrics that meant something to me before, suddenly meant something else that I was sure made sense. “Are you reelin’ in the years, stowing away the time?” What is the “Pretzel Logic” today? I demand answers. Through my binoculars came new light on the lyric “No, we got nothing in common. No, we can’t talk at all.” And the kicker, from the song “Black Friday”:

When Black Friday falls, you know it’s got to be. Don’t let it fall on me.
When Black Friday comes, I’m gonna dig myself a hole.
Gonna lay down in it till I satisfy my soul.
Gonna let the world pass by me.
The Archbishop don’t sanctify me.
And if he don’t come across, I’m gonna let it roll.

In other words, the World ain’t got no ticket. That’s when I realized that Steely Dan had re-assembled me.

My Old School

So I’m middle-aged now and reeling in my years. Where have my beliefs and values landed? I believe the first religion, Sun Worship, is the most sensible. I believe binoculars put you in the front row; Bert and Ernie love each other; and Mikey really did like that cereal all those years ago. I believe the value in jams is pure expression; pure because jams don’t lie. Lyrics might, but jams never do.

I know how to see a show. There’s a list of necessary provisions. There is parking to deal with; and crowds; and drunkards. You need to know the moment to decide if you’ll beat traffic, or stay through the encore. Choosing your spot on the lawn is both an art and a science. You need to know concert etiquette; where the exits are; and the laws of entrapment.

I know how to see a show, but this summer taught me how to walk away from one, and when to turn around and run. At first, I was bummed that even in the jamband life, some things are until they aren’t. You look forward to those dates when it all comes together just-exactly-perfect. But I saw more shows than I missed, and at those shows, I believed. Occasionally, it’s almost showtime, until, suddenly, it isn’t. Sometimes it isn’t showtime. But then the lights go down, and it is.

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