A friend on Facebook posted the question: “Okay, what’s your favorite concert ever you’ve experienced in person?”
My response:
Hmmm… favorite concert experienced in prison… wait… oops, sorry, misread that.
OK, I’d have to say, in terms of pure R&R spectacle, the Who (with Moon) @ the IU Auditorium… no one can twirl a mic like Daltry, and there’s simply nothing Pete Townsend does not understand about rock & roll.
The YES round-table tour comes in 2nd, but 1st in terms of astounding, transcendent music.
Looking at great horn-driven R&B, I’d say the double-header a few years back with Chicago and Blood Sweat & Tears at Deercreek (still call it Deercreek, I can’t keep track anymore of who owns the damn thing). Wifey and I had a great time dancing on the lawn.
As for bluegrass, I’m torn, but I’ll say it was Alison Krause and Union Station with Jerry Douglas at the Eiteljorg in Indy. Smooth as silk, and Alison was in a particularly ‘happy’ mood, it seemed.
A few others come to mind, especially the ones where I managed to weasel myself backstage to meet the artists: Chet Atkins, Al di Meola, Stevie Winwood, and John Hartford, who kindly gave me a free lesson on how to properly clog-dance while playing the fiddle.
There are also the shows where I got to open for the headliner, but that’s not really germane to the present discussion. But I will say that one of the *worst* concerts I ever attended I also opened: Jorma Kaukonen at the old Second Story in Bloomington. He was doing a solo acoustic tour, and ran his acoustic-electric guitar through a huge pedalboard… into a friggin’ Marshall! Absolutely horrible tone, trebly to the point of painful, overly-chorused, and loud enough to peel paint. But, to be fair, he did generously offer to pack my nose backstage before the show. I thanked him politely but declined the invitation.
But the one that rests nearest my heart was a solo performance by flamenco guitar legend Carlos Montoya in Indy, way back in the 80s. He was an old man by then, and between numbers his right hand hung limply at his side, shaking… had to be a tough gig for him to do.
I got to shake the weary hand of the maestro after the event, and acquired his autograph on the event poster I ripped from the lobby wall, now framed and hanging in my studio.
