Not Just A Hat Rack

Mark Knopfler Concert in SLC

 

Nostalgia took center stage at Abravanel Hall on Wednesday night as legendary Dire Straits’ front man Mark Knopfler graced Salt Lake City with his six-man band.  By the time he concluded his two-hour performance with “So Far Away” and the instrumental from the movie “Local Hero,” the crowd of 2,000 had swayed, clapped and reminisced their way from the late ‘70’s to today.

Known as one of the world’s premier guitarists, Knopfler and friends were at their finest when three guitars, a drums and two keyboards filled the stuffy hall with a decidedly groovy sound.  His trademark combination of London roots with Cajun/folkAmericana riffs and 80’s rock ballad lyrics resonated with the audience in that comfortable way like the night after finals.  Returning to a pre-Bush, pre-AIDS, pre-internet era was a sentimental trip for both the band and their audience.

 He didn’t take risks, played few surprises and gratefully avoided “Money for Nothing” – the song that decried the out-of-control commercialization of the rock music industry, even though it was a signature song itself during the meteoric rise of MTV. After all, with several members of the band pushing 60 years old, Dire Straits’ biggest hit would have sounded only like a creaky echo.  “Romeo and Juliet” and “Brothers in Arms” were safer descents into that bygone era.  The audience has moved on from wearing Journey and Asia t-shirts – Harley Davidson duds were far more prevalent among the baby boomer set. 

I loved the show’s lighting, updated harmonies and elaborate song intros.  The second show on Knopfler’s tour this summer, the set bodes well for forthcoming stops on his tour.  As he hits a few summer festivals and a few legitimate arenas, the band will lift off from Salt Lake’s stifling, alcohol-free concert hall setting and deliver true musical spectacles.  Last night was pure great music, but also a reminder that the 80’s are “so far away.”

Canadian Doctors, Dead Wrestlers, Deer Valley... Once

Wow, busy week - and I'm not even the one drving half the night to a small town in British Columbia.

Mrs. Hat Rack departed this morning - sent away with bg "good luck!" signs on the door, porch and car courtesy of some of her training friends. She flew to Vancouver via San Francisco... before a 250+ mile drive tonight to Penticton for Sunday's Ironman Canada race. Not to sound alarm bells, but she slipped on her suitcase at SLC Airport at 7am today and sprained an ankle ligament. Worried, and slightly distraught, she soldiered on. While she was on the ground in San Francisco, we found her a walk-in clinic to go visit in Penticton tomorrow - and then, even better, a walk-in clinic in Vancouver Airport, where she had 4 hours to kill waiting for LL, her traveling and racing companion. That's where we got the "only one ligament sprained" disagnosis... and she's flush with prescriptions, bandages, referrals and a glint of optimism. Unlike in the movie Sicko, however, the great treatment by Canadian doctors is hardly free. Anyways, one ligament can't stop my wife after a year of training and planning. Onward!

So I took the 'Lil Hat Racks up to Deer Valley tonight to hear a friend of mine from college, Mary Beth Maziarz, and her band Wild Honey. They performed at the Deer Valley bandshell - and I really liked her stuff. She sounds a lot like Mary Chapin Carpenter... I met her husband (another NU grad) and saw their little baby... MB and I chatted briefly afterwards and made plans to catch up in the near future. Very cool.

Two nights ago, we FINALLY saw a movie, ONCE, that has been on our list for two months. Sundance's Managing Director, Jill Miller, calls it her "favorite movie EVER" - and it didn't disappoint. It's a modern-day musical romance, featuring an Irish busker named Glen Hansard and a Czech flower vendor, Marketa Irglova, meeting and finding harmony in music on the streets of Dublin. It earns four stars in my book - but doesn't edge Cinema Paradiso as my "favorite movie EVER."

Ok, finally, the dead wrestlers story. Frank Deford had an eye-opening story about deaths in pro wrestling on NPR this morning... Take a listen.

BNL in SLC

Steven Page isn't Jimmy Page and Tyler Stewart isn't Steven Tyler and Ed Robertson isn't Ed Sullivan. Bare Naked Ladies are just themselves.

I saw them for the second time in my life on Wednesday at the E-Center, courtesy of the my able friend Michael S., GM of the Utah Grizzlies.  What a great band to see in Salt Lake City - a place desperately in need of irreverence.  BNL obliged, offering commentary on our "Library of the Year!" as well as multiple mentions about the allegedly rigid moral standars here.  The band can't close with the song "Alcohol" in too many cities with less tongue-in-cheek irony (or was it comeuppance) than SLC.

BNL is not my favorite band but I told my wife I'd put them in the Top 25.  U2, Lowen & Navarro, Poi Dog Pondering, Allison Krauss - they're in my top 10, but BNL probably doesn't crack the Top 20, I thought as I talked.  Let's put them at 24, for the hell of it.

Regardless of what you think of them, I think Steven Page can belt out a pop song with the best of them - and Ed Robertson offers a stark contrast that makes them two bands for the price of one for me.  Robertson's "One Week" has been their most successful song ever - and he and Page pair comedically on "If I Had a Million Dollars" - but I prefer some of their more understated songs like "Jane", "Shoebox" and "The Old Apartment".  My wife digs "Who Needs Sleep?" - one of her personal anthems.  They played all these favorites, plus "Easy" - the big single off the new album, which reminds me of Bruce Hornsby for some odd reason.

Anyways, I like to see authentic performance, and while BNL could have mailed it in for this show on Thanksgiving Eve in a half-empty arena with only a trace of Kraft-macaroni-throwing, I think the ticket-buying public got their money's worth.  Improvised banter is a staple of their shows, and they found plenty of content in lovely, unappreciated Utah.  They threw in the funniest, most unexpected rendition of "I Wanna Wish you a Happy Thanksgiving" featuring the drummer Stewart on lead vocals, Robertson on keyboard ("That sounds so Spanish!" quipped one of his bandmates) and everyone else accordingly shuffled to a different instrument.  The night featured an accordion, banjo, cello and other atypical rock band instruments, although their threat to include a didgeridoo was never fulfilled.  Of their two leading lights, Page acted like the utter goofball that I think he autobiographically describes in "Grade 9".  Robertson offered his wry, sly, more urbane perspective on the insanity going on stage around him - you got what you hoped for out of this show. 

Finally, I couldn't help think all night how "cute" Canadians are.  Now don't go all crazy on me and threaten to withhold your maple syrup from us, but you Canadians (from Toronto FC, the three that worked for me in Chicago among others) just have an "awshucks, we're just trying to be socially responsible, spirits-loving, good-humored, non-offensive" neighbors to us heathens here in the USA.  I like that in them.  So much so that moving to Canada remains in my Top Three exit plans should Schwarzenegger, Schwarzkopf or Limbaugh ever win the US presidency. 

The other star of the evening was Harry's in Sugarhouse.  Chef David Kimball and Crazy Jake the waiter are HUGE RSL fans.  Kimball brings casual sophistication to the American menu in a trendy decor dining room across the street from the park.  Go hungry and start with Harry's fresh-fried potato chips.  My wife and I loved the blackened salmon and grilled mahi, but for me, the vegetables (carrots, zucchini, etc.) on her plate were simply mouth-watering.  A great piece of fish is a pleasure, but when was the last time you remember enjoying vegetables so much in a restaurant?  Harry's is a favorite of RSL players so support the place that takes great care of us.

A Youth Choir Overwhelmed Me?!

Excellence revealed itself to me via music twice this week.  One I'll chronicle today - the next tomorrow.

Last Sunday, I saw the Madeleine School's St. Cecilia's Day concert as a guest of Chris H. from Jerry Seiner.  That a school choir required tickets, advanced reservations and an invite - at 8pm on a Sunday night in this city - was, at first blush, a ludicrous concept.  But then I saw and heard Ryan.  Fresh off a performance in Vatican City a week prior, Ryan and the other boys and girls traditionally clad in choir gowns of blue and black took your breath away. 

(I've understated this - let me try again.) 

Seven days earlier, Ryan and his peers fulfilled a once-in-a-lifetime dream by becoming the FIRST non-VATICAN choir to perform at 10:30am PAPAL MASS at St. Peter's Cathedral in 35 years.  They sang in full view and acknowlegement of THE Pope Benedict XVI - American kids from Salt Lake, of all places.  Now, these kids were jet-lagged but home and filling Salt Lake's magnificent, yet humble in comparison with the religion's spiritual and physical capitol, Catholic cathedral with heaven-inspired music majesty. 

The vestibules were packed to standing-room behind the pews.  These "kids" performed a mere portion of the packed itinerary of song from their adventures in Milan, Venice, Rome and Vatican City: Bach, Rachmaninoff, Palestrina, Brahms and contemporaries like Russell Woolen and James McMillan, just to name a few.  Now the towers of Cathderal of the Madeleine reverberated with utter sonic joy that even a music layman couldn't help but be consumed within.

And Ryan, in two solos, this County Fair-winning, talent-show stunning teenager rocked and swayed and his voice leaped and his body intoned and he showed he clearly has talent.  I know nothing about music, but in the same way that some paintings, fine wines and writing require no explanation, I, along with the 1,000+ in attendance, was riveted by him.  I got the sense that this young man was not just a future member of N' Sync or the Freddy Adu of classical song.  Ryan, slight of height but full-cheeked of soft Japanese and maybe Hispanic flesh, showed he has an innate intangible gift.  His eyes darted from his black songbook to the director.  I saw concentration, anticipation and utter joy in them.  He scarcely acknowleged the crowd until a standing ovation greeted him when prompted to step forward for a post-concert bow.  Then, I think, I saw a 14-year-old, stealing a glance at Mom and Dad with a twinkle that suggested he thought he'd done alright.

My wife knows Ryan's Mom (from running marathons, naturally - no underacheivers allowed in this column!) so I had been tipped off to expect something extraordinary.  But nothing prepared me for how his entire body burst forth in harmony and melodious beauty.  One kid in a hundred was clearly, is clearly, in a very special musical universe.  I googled him (of course!) when we got home that night and read about his awards, performances, invitations and laurels.  He has been invited to join the Morman Tabernacle Choir next month for a holiday concert featuring this region's most acclaimed professional performers.  He has now performed for the Pope, our Governor, our Mayor.

I never imagined this Sunday night show would leave me struggling for days to put it in writing.  I thought I'd write that St. Cecilia is the patron saint of choir music and Catholics celebrate her on November 22nd each year.  I thought I'd comment on the irony of my first live chorale performance in Utah being a Catholic choir, not THE Tabernacle Choir (one of these days; they are on my list).  I thought I'd note how this elementary and middle school has such a unique and antiquated focus on singing as part of its daily curriculum.

But no, this performance was about a boy taking his elders to a spiritual place and challenging us to look inside ourselves and seek the gift we have to enrich the lives of those around us.  The real beauty in the evening, lay in the fact that from the looks of him, Ryan has no idea.  He just sings because he loves it more than almost anything in this world.  What a blessing.