Overused words
like "awesome"
are needed here

Posted in alt.music.steely-dan newsgroup and reprinted here by permission

By Diane de Rooij

What follows is a four-part review written disjointedly over a period of two days. I'm aware that I probably got some details out of order, but nothing so critical that it doesn't fairly represent the show itself. However, I'd be happy to receive corrections from anyone else who saw this incredible performance. Send your comments to me at jackofdays@aol.com

Part One

Well, it's all over but for the shouting. Oh, wait. We already shouted, too.

The taping was great. I don't think I have enough adjectives to express how great it was. Overused and misused words like "awesome" are needed here.

But before I rhapsodize too much, I have a bunch of little tidbits to share--things that will answer many questions about the New One, and who plays what and all that rot.

I'll begin with the setlist:

Green Earrings
Janie Runaway
Josie
Gaslighting Abbie
Do It Again
Cousin Dupree
Babylon Sisters
Black Friday
Deacon Blues
Bad Sneakers
West of Hollywood
Home at Last
Kid Charlemagne
Peg
FM
What a Shame About Me
Pretzel Logic

Regarding personnel, the same players who were onstage tonight were also on the record. In other words, NO drum loops or synthetic devices were used to replace natural sounds (well, maybe some viagra here and there, but that's another story). Most of the names are familiar:

Cornelius Bumpus -- tenor sax
Chris Potter -- alto sax
Michael Leonhart -- trumpet
Jim Pugh -- trombone
Ricky Lawson -- drums (I carried his drumsticks to the taping, but that's *another* story )
Tom Barney -- bass
Ted Baker -- keyboards
Jon Herington -- lead and rhythm guitar
Carolyn Leonhart, Victoria Cave, Cynthia Calhoun -- backing vocals

Stuff I didn't know:

-- Michael and Carolyn Leonhart are siblings. He's 25, she's 28. They both look like they need their parents' permission to leave the house after 10pm.

-- That "thing" Donald plays is a Lynx L4 hand-held synthesizer. (Note: Later posting corrects this as a "Lync LN4" that is actually a "Midi controller keyboard" rather than a synthesizer.) The company is out of business, but before they folded, Donald bought two extras.

-- Giant Record has been following the success of "Cuz." It's been charting for three weeks in the industry rag, and premiered at #25, then zoomed to #16, and now it's at #4. The feedback to the label has been glowing praise, more more more.

-- Everybody and his left testicle has a copy of 2vN.

-- Donald Fagen is channeling Ray Charles.

I'm going to skip the before-show at Pete and Shari Fogel's and the after-show at Le Bar Bat in favor of a more instant review, since I know that's what you really want anyway.

By the evening, the wind had come up and Manhattan was coldColdCOLD -- but it got worse, as the smokers in the crowd will tell you. Cigarettes wouldn't even stay lit outside during the intermission, and we all discussed quitting (again), but then said, "Nahhhhh."

The wait was interminable, not just in the weather, but inside, while the cameras jockeyed for positions and a lot of really important-looking people (no one I was with) came in late(r) to be seated in their reserved seats. The guy behind me was from Guitar Player magazine. The guy next to him was a player. And the woman seated beside me was the advertising director for Giant Records. I sat in the back to minimize the distractions of cameras in my face and to remain as anonymous as possible.

Finally someone came out and read announcements, then without further ado, brought on the band. As usual, the body of the band came first, followed by its two heads, to wild applause. I thought Don looked a little sad, Deacon Blueslike, even kind of annoyed or bored at first. Walter, on the other hand, was an incredible babe at 49--jeezus!

(Pauses here to recall)

God, he looks good. I have literally been staring at the screen for two minutes trying to figure out what I was going to say next. That Walter is a fine-looking fellow.

Dooooiiiiing! So, Donald spoke first, the usual, "how ya doing" stuff, then he asked if we'd been told about the smoking (no smoking), explaining, "This looks like a show but it's not; it's t.v." The smoke was still hanging in the air and the stage lights were streaming through it, even though no one had smoked in there but the crews.

So a second later they just *pounded* into Green Earrings with this incredible wave of sound that just swept over the whole space. I think there were more than 150 seats in there, but not very many more. The setting was very intimate for a big sound like that (for any sound, for that matter). Donald's voice was as incredible as ever, cutting like a knife through that smoky air. All the stuff I'd heard here and there seemed unbelievable once I heard him sing. He was better tonight than at any of the big shows I've either been to or heard recordings of.

Part Two

You know, time and time again I find my notes are inadequate to describe an experience I had when I write about it later. That's the case with tonight's taping, too. I wanted to mention the newish players by song, but somehow it seems my notes are not thorough enough.

But I do think it was on Green Earrings that Ted Baker played a hell of a piano, which he did all night long, but quite a lot of the time he was on the Fender-Rhodes rather than the grand piano he started out with. He's great, and brand new to the Dan, and will be touring with them this summer.

The other newcomer is Jon Herington, a young guitar player Walter seems to like quite a lot. He definitely brought his own stuff to old songs; his trial by fire had to be Kid Charlemagne, where I know I was hoping for a Larry Carlton clone. He can hold his own; his solo was his, not Larry's, but he still managed to do that little ascension back into the tune at the end of the solo using different notes with the same feel. He did, however, completely *own* Black Friday, bringing new licks and (I think) a little fuzz pedal to it. And if you listen to Cousin Dupree, the rhythm guitar licks go way up the neck, like a bell, my favorite part almost, and that's Jon. Walt plays that standard rock/n/roll rhythm guitar, but rather than playing it out of a barre chord, he actually fingers the whole thing.

I was kind of disappointed (in a romantic sense) that Walt didn't play the guitar solo on What a Shame About Me. I had kind of fantasized that this was the real "Steely Dan" tune on 2vN, the marriage of D&W, back together again telling a great New York story. but that, too, was Jon, and a lovely solo it is.

Cornelius Bumpus is not guilty of playing sax on some of the tracks people assumed he was playing on 2vN. It's Chris Potter on Janie Runaway *and* on West of Hollywood. The backup singers were tight, fast and sassy. Victoria Cave, the redhead, for those of you with color TVs (remember when people used to say that?), did a little scat line in Gaslighting Abbie, and it was just one of those perfect moments that went by so quick while you were still going..."whoa! that was fine...."

I was going to say something else about their performances, but I've just realized I'm dangerously close to not making sense (if I'm not there already). It's 2:30am and I spent too many hours out in the freezing wind today, so I'm going to pick this up tomorrow. It gets better. There are quips.

Part Three

Okay, here's my last report on the show, plus this disclaimer: if you don't get the information you need here, maybe one of the other newsgroupers who attended can provide it. There were a few of us there, and I'm pretty sure we all paid attention to different things for different reasons.

Also, you may want to check the guestbook at St. Al's site (Under the Banyan Trees). There are people who post there and never post here, and vice versa, and a bunch of St. Al Aficianados were present and .. er... well, okay, accounted for. They are a rowdy bunch, I tells ya.

Part Three of my two-part disclaimer is that I was writing along in my little notebook in the dark, trying to capture the feel of the thing, plus details, names, the setlist, when suddenly I said to myself, "What the fuck! It feels like I'm *working* here!" So I decided just to enjoy the show as much as possible without detailed notes. Works for me.

Random thoughts...

(forgive me if I repeat myself; I don't have my bleary-eyed posts of this morning to refer to, and I was rather dazed, so I have no idea what I told you already) I was disappointed that WB didn't do that guitar solo on What a Shame, but have to hand it to the new guitarist, Jon Herington. When you all have heard what I'm talking about, you will agree, I'm sure. He's good and smooth. I was equally disappointed that WB *does* the guitar solo on Gaslighting Abbie, which I find entirely uninteresting. He soloes on Cuz and does a great job live. Most of the other solos are handled by The New Guy, with a few exceptions, and I'm going to let some other newsgrouper review that.

For Gaslighting Abbie, Donald strapped on his Lync and Ted Baker moved to the Fender-Rhodes. It *rocked,* including a neat little scat line sung by one of the new backup singers, Victoria Cave. Donald was turning and conducting the band (in fact, he was conducting even when he was facing the audience, as Miz Ducky once observed to me. Better than Mitch Miller.)

My heart leapt into my throat as they segued into the next tune via a great lead-in from Ted Baker on the F-R... Do it Again... It sounds as solid now as it did the first time I heard it, and as eerie, and as out of place in the musical world. And in a real "moment" for me, Don turned to face Walt, and the two of them acted like a coupla hard-rocking guitarists facing off in a duel, Don on his Lync, Walt on his Fender. It was fucken hilarious. It was so appropriate--such an inside joke--to do this on Do It Again. Just a little something for the old folks in the crowd.

DF introduced Cousin Dupree as "just a little rural narrative," and the crowd howled. As soon as the first three notes plunked out on Cuz, the audience was screaming. Back in the back, people were dancing in their seats. Those in the front row wanted to dance, but they were in danger of being hit by a flying camera as crane operators swooped it in and out of the shots with no regard for human life! It was actually kind of sad--not the cameras necessarily--but the other reason why there was not more dancing in the crowd.

A Source Close To The Dan told some of us before the show that DF was very discouraged and upset about the fact that the label was giving out these passes to The Suits, rather than giving them to fans who actually *appreciate* and buy their music. That, I assume, explained the look on his face at the beginning of the show, and the occasional cynical potshots he lobbed. So in the minute-long break before Cuz, Don said, "You can dance if you want to." But nobody did--at least, nobody he could see. Me, I was dancing, back there in the shadows.

But it was Cuz that decided the show. The energy in the room changed. Everyone was happy. Even DF almost cracked a smile. Certainly, he appeared bemused.

The camera crew for PBS must have really wanted a lot of film on the performance of Cuz, because they were absolutely everywhere, including three hand-held cameras that almost completely obscured guitarist Jon Herington. This caught Walter's attention, and as the applause died down he said "Apparently there's some kind of cinematic gang-bang going on over here..." to howls of laughter. We all took 20 minutes to try to get over it.

When they returned, Walt said, "Well, I'm glad we got *that* straightened out," and they swung into West of Hollywood, which sounded really good live, and shorter than on the CD, which is kind of the opposite of the way things usually go. Next they did Home At Last, with a great trumpet solo by Michael Leonhart and superb guitar by WB--maybe the best solo of the night.

If you have any doubts about the fact that we live in a small world, it turns out the friend I'm staying with in NYC used to be Michael Leonhart's trumpet teacher at Knickerbocker's, some kind of musical summer camp (Michael, if you're reading, Brant says hi). After the show when the crowd had cleared out, there was this big wad of Danfans kind of looking lost at the foot of the stage. That's when I took the opportunity to ask Don's keyboard wrangler what that thing was he plays. I turned to rejoin the group and spied Michael Leonhart standing right near me, so I touched his arm and told him how beautiful I thought his solo was on Almost Gothic--short, but beautiful. We chatted for a few minutes, but I wish I'd known he'd once been a student of Brant's!

Kid Charlemagne was smokin', but I'm sorry... Larry Carlton rings my chimes forever. They almost should retire that one from the lineup. Don't hit me. You *all* know what I mean. Nevertheless, it got a stompin' standing ovation, the first of the night. Even DF was moved. He sat back down at the F-R and said, "What a night. I'm buggin!" Then, after a pause, Walter said, "This is probably the smallest audience we've played for in the Nineties."

"It's the smallest audience we've played for since the *Seventies,*" DF retorted.

"The Ice House in Glendale," Walt concurred. And that was the point in the show when I knew they were really pleased, that it had hit them fully how cool it was to play for fewer people than can fill the average tavern on a weekend, as opposed to huge stadia and convention centers. They were digging it, big time.

Okay, I just checked my notes and I have one more post's worth to write, so I'm gonna go have a fag and come back in a while to write it all.

Last But Not Least

So, where were we? Ah, yes, they were about to perform Peg, which they did, and it was as great as all the other tunes that night. I really would be critical if they hadn't sounded good or had really fucked something up, but they didn't. The entire performance was nearly flawless. I do believe they sound as good now as they sounded 25 years ago. In some ways, of course, they sound even better. Walter gave his second really great guitar solo of the night on Peg, and even without Michael McDonald's amazing harmonies, it was great.

Right behind me in the dark, the assistant cameraman had been barking directions into a headset all night. I'd met him earlier when I'd come back and asked if I could sneak in next to him and take a few shots of the venue, before the band took the stage (we talked f stops and shooting the moon and Nestor Almendros). He was wearing headphones, and I don't think he realized how loud he was talking.

This time he was yelling into his mic, "You wanna start on the drums this time? You wanna start on the drums?" in a thick accent that identified him as being from Brooklyn. Don looked at him but he didn't even notice, so DF replied, in perfect Brooklynese, "I don' know. Whadda fuck?" shrugging his shoulders and grinning big, all this completely lost on the camera guy. One more shrug and a "Jeeezuzzz Chris'," and we were all rolling in the aisles laughing. The camera guy never caught on, not for a second. He was too wrapped up in his gig.

FM was next, a big but pleasant surprise to me. I tend not to try to figure out how other people think (at least not to the extent of wondering what songs they might play), but their setlist makes a lot of sense for a band that has a small, muscley horn section, so FM was a logical pick.

The taping of the next song, What a Shame About Me, was the only low point of the night. The cameras became incredibly obtrusive at this point, swinging in and out a whole lot, in wide arcs that really seemed kind of dangerous. I saw DF move his head sideways once to avoid a camera, and he looked annoyed. On this song, which he sings so beautifully on the album, he was now straining, although he was hitting all the notes dead-on. Maybe because of the camera distractions or some other technical goof, the backup singers were a little flat, just about a quarter-step off, and it was as unpleasant for me as fingernails on a blackboard. Jon Herington redeemed it with his great guitar solo, and it's a wonderful, wonderful song (and apparently, officially the next single), but the evening was pretty much over when this song ended.

DF went back to the F-R and explained that usually they'd go offstage and then come back and do another, then go offstage and come back, but because this was a taping and not a show, they were going to do one more song and then leave.

They finished with Pretzel Logic, which was a little too poignant way to go out, for me. It's always been one of my faves, and DF interpreted it faithfully, hitting all those high notes just like he used to. At the break, the backup singers split up the lines:

Cynthia Calhoun: I stepped up on the platform
Carolyn Leonhart: The man gave me the news
Victoria Cave: He said you must be joking son/where did you get those shoes

And then they all kind of vamped on the remaining line and all around it. It was very cool. It all built to a thundering climax and a grateful, almost shell-shocked, standing ovation. Even though Don had said there wouldn't be an encore, the crowd stood and clapped to the point of pain. The cameramen were egging us on to clap more and louder, and the front rows did, which made the back rows think they were coming back. But they didn't.

I don't know about anyone else, but I was spent. I felt like a kid again--a kid who'd put everything she had into the one-nighter of her life. I dawdled around arranging my coats and my bags, basking in the afterglow, hoping no one would come up and talk to me and ruin that moment that might not ever come again. I was so caught up in my reverie I didn't even notice that where I was standing, next to part of the structure that holds the tracks for the crane dolly, there was an official setlist, kind of beat-up and folded, with tracks crossed off that they weren't going to perform that night--Hey Nineteen and Jack of Speed. I picked it up, of course, and stuffed it in my bag. It was garbage to them, but priceless to me.

Later on, at Le Bar Bat, I took it out of my bag to check it against my own list. I noticed it had some writing on the back--a love note from the camera crane operator's girlfriend, who'd been sitting right there as he'd swung that camera around Don & Walt's heads, so close they had to duck: "You're the Baryshnikov of crane," she had written.

love and kisses, live from new york,
diane

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