The Belfast Cowboy Summer Concert Series, 2005

The Sultan of Swing
He Can Play the Honky Tonk Like Anything

Last night I received an early birthday gift from a lady friend. On the eve of this twentieth anniversary of Live Aid, we attended a concert by Mark Knopfler, a guitar virtuoso whose career with Dire Straits includes the release of The Sultans of Swing in 1978, a featured performance at Live Aid, and the hugely popular Brothers in Arms, which contained the MTV video monster, "Money for Nothing."

Knopfler has scored several movies, including The Princess Bride. He recently released his third solo effort and is now touring in medium-sized venues such as Boston's Bank of America Pavilion. His stage show is the kind that I like--no histrionics, focus on the music. It was like Dire Straits with a grand piano and a Hammond B3 added; Knopfler was never much in favor of trumpet-playing bands.

The Boston crowd embraced the veteran rocker from the opening note, but the response for his evocative chestnut "Romeo and Juliet" was deafening. He wrung moody and soaring melodies from his vintage collection of Les Pauls, Strats, a Telecaster, and even a National. The first encore began with the soulful "Brothers in Arms," then exploded into the air-guitar classic riff of all time, "Money for Nothing." All that was missing was Sting.

Now the sun’s gone to hell
And the moon’s riding high
Let me bid you farewell
Every man has to die
But it’s written in the starlight
And every line on your palm
We’re fools to make war
On our brothers in arms

The Saw Doctors
All the way from Tuam

At the urging (do threats count as urging?) of my friend Mary, I attended a concert Saturday night by the Saw Doctors, a rollicking band of gypsies from Tuam in Galway, Ireland. I thought was prepared for the experience, but I was stunned. My date, an auburn-tressed former step-dancer herself, turned to me about three songs into the performance and said, “This is like a cult.”

The show was performed to a half-house at the intimate Cohasset Music Circus. When the five band members ran down the aisle and picked up their instruments, the crowd stood and exploded. The Saw Doctors broke into their first song, "N17", with half the crowd holding up signs bearing the title and almost everyone knowing every word. From this very first song, the band could pause and let the audience fill in the gaps.

“I wish I was on the en-seven-teen,” sang Davy Carton.

“Stone walls and the grasses green!” chanted the crowd, brandishing their signs.

The mood is a combination of ecstasy, nostalgia, and longing. The songs are part rock, part folk, part Celtic. There is a touch of reggae in one song, a touch of zydeco in another. The musicianship is superb.

“Well I didn’t see much future
When I left the Christian brothers school
So I waved it goodbye with a wistful smile
And I left the girls of Tuam
Sometimes when I’m reminiscing
I see the prefabs and my old friends
And I know that they’ll be changed or gone
By the time I get home again.”--“N17”

The band is fronted by diminutive Davy Carton, an elfin blond with a huge voice, and bespectacled Leo Moran, the principal songwriter and lead guitarist. The bassist also plays saxophone and harmonica, and the keyboardist/accordian player is a virtuoso guitarist as well. All four sing, and the choruses of many songs are delivered in four part harmony. The fifth member is the drummer.

The crowd never relented. When Leo Moran spoke and sang of the Maroon and White of Galway winning the All-Irish Cup, the crowd choked up along with him. When the band said goodnight for the first time, the crowd summoned them back; fifteen hundred voices crooned the refrain from “Clare Island” until they reappeared. The encore was four songs, finishing up with the exultant interweaving of farming and football in “Hay Wrap.”

Hay!
Bale them bale them Hay! Hay!
I'd kill for a pinta porter
Jayz, I'd kill for a pinta porter
There's wild bad drink in Tuam hi
Get that wasp off my sandwich! Hay!
Will Galway bate Mayo
Do you think will Galway bate Mayo?
Not if they have Willie Joe
They haven't a hope of batin' Mayo
Hay!
Will Galway bate Mayo?
Not if they have Willie Joe
I'd kill for a pinta porter
Get that wasp off my sandwich! Hay!

With each "Hay!" all the members of the audience pumped their right fists in the air. Did I? You bet I did. You would have, too.

Hall and Oates/Todd Rundgren

To continue my musical feast, I attended the Hall and Oates/Todd Rundgren concert at the Pavilion on the Boston waterfront on Tuesday night. I realize that’s a lot of Philadelphia to ingest, but the repast was much more flavorful than I expected.

Rundgren opened the show with two solo numbers before being joined by the Hall and Oates band. I first became aware of him way back in his days with Nazz, when I adopted the song “Hello, It’s Me” as the official anthem of my first real painful breakup (Awww, Nancy Jean! Why did you have to go to college in Houlton, Maine?)

Hello, it’s me
I thought about us for a long, long time
Maybe I think too much but something’s wrong
There’s something here that doesn’t last too long
Maybe I shouldn’t think of you as mine

The version he performed Tuesday had a jazzy groove that--thankfully--didn’t detract from the poignancy of the song. Don’t mess with my memories, Todd.

Rundgren went on to perform tight, pleasing versions of songs that live in the half-light of memory, songs like “A Dream Goes on Forever,” and “Can We Still Be Friends?" He seemed grateful to Hall and Oates for inviting him to tour and sharing their musicians, commenting that, “In times like these, you find out who your friends are.”

When I first heard Hall and Oates back in the seventies, songs like “She’s Gone” and “Sara Smile,” I assumed they were another black Philly group like the Delfonics or the O’Jays. It wasn’t until later that I realized that Darryl Hall was a funky white boy with an incredibly soulful singing style. As they performed their many eighties hits, I found myself liking the jazzy live versions much better than the two-and-a-half minute, bouncy pop versions I remembered. Songs like “Maneater” (the opener), “One on One,” and especially “Your Kiss Is on my List” were textured and layered with complex rhythms and harmonies. Even the pop tunes “Private Eyes” and “Rich Girl” were given arrangements that made them all but irresistible. The crowd reaction to “You’ve Lost that Lovin’ Feeling” made me wonder how many people in the audience knew it was a cover. Sorry, Bill and Bobby.

The best part of the concert was the end, when Todd Rundgren returned to the stage and the combined musicians reached back for their most soulful material. It was here that “She’s Gone” and "Sara Smile" were performed, along with a cover of the Spinners’ “Could It Be I’m Falling In Love?” Rundgren and Hall slid smoothly back and forth on lead vocals, keyboards, and guitar, while Oates exchanged licks with the lead guitarist and sax player.

The encore began with a faithful version of the O’Jays' “Love Train,” a real crowd-pleaser that got the redhead dancing. Rundgren was allowed to take the show home, harkening back to his Utopia days for “Love Is the Answer,” challenging all the elders in the crowd to search for that little bit of hippie that might be left in their souls. I never have to look that hard.

Light of the world, shine on me
Love is the answer
Shine on us all, set us free
Love is the answer