After last night’s Tribe win, they set up Progressive Field for a fireworks show that was synchronized with music playing on the scoreboard. As the likes of Heart and Led Zeppelin rocked the house, shells burst overhead and flames shot up to the sky. In all, it was more than 20 minutes of sound and fury — easily one of the best fireworks displays I’ve ever seen.
The game itself was great, but with the awesome fireworks spectacle it was like getting two fabulous performances for the price of one. It almost makes me sad that today we’ll be watching a day game.
Last night we went to Lake Arrowhead Village for an outdoor concert. It was an Elton John “tribute” featuring Kenny Metcalf as Sir Elton, and it was great fun.
I’ve never seen a “tribute” band before, and I wasn’t sure exactly what to expect. But the performers took their roles seriously– complete with a feathered outfit and sparkly glasses for Elton and rocker wigs for the other members of the band–and they gave the crowd a high-energy set that had everyone singing along to their favorites. (For me, that was Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters.). And Kenny Metcalf played the piano beautifully and sounded remarkably like Elton John, too. A beautiful setting, moderate temperatures, and clear skies just made the evening more enjoyable.
I’d go see another tribute band.
A powerful set of rainstorms rolled over our neighborhood overnight, leaving the ground wet and the air with that light, crisp, delectable, freshly washed feel. Taking deep whiffs of the air the morning after a Midwestern summer storm is like crawling into a bed made with freshly laundered sheets.
I poured myself a cup of coffee, from beans just ground by Stauf’s, and padded out onto our back porch, where the neighborhood birds were putting on a musical performance, free to anyone who cared to listen.
Sunday morning is a good time to drink a fine cup of coffee and listen to the birds. There’s no traffic on Third to increase the level of background noise, and you can hear the different birds, with their different, melodic calls, distinctly. It is so quiet and peaceful that you can hear the chirps and songs of birds in the distance, answering the calls of their brethren, and when the birds take a brief break, the absolute stillness feels deep and almost palpable.
The birds put on a pretty good show.
I went to work this morning, and as I was working I kept hearing this great jazz music coming up from the street below during today’s Sunlight Market on Gay Street. I couldn’t tell whether I was hearing a recording or a live band — but the music was terrific. It was old-school jazz that had a kind of New Orleans feel to it. It reminded me of Tuba Skinny, one of my favorite Big Easy jazz bands.
When I left the office and walked out onto Gay Street, I saw that the music was coming a live band. They finished a number and took a break, and I walked up to throw a few dollars into their open guitar case and thank them for adding a little musical accompaniment to my Sunday work session. They were a Columbus-based band called the Whirlybirds, and they were great. You can check out their Facebook page here and hear one of their numbers here.
I’m going to keep an eye out for a chance to hear more from the Whirlybirds.
Amazingly, more than 50 years after the Beatles’ Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band was released during the summer of 1967, the iconic photo of the Fab Four from the album towers over the Las Vegas strip. The Cirque du Soleil show Love, which features Beatles music, is one of the most popular shows in town.
The Beatles’ music may not prove to be literally timeless, but it has held up pretty well for more than a half century and obviously is still going strong.
I let out a heavy, appalled groan over the weekend when I read that ABBA was going to release its first new material in 35 years. I suspect that I was not alone, and that elsewhere in the world husbands who have learned the disturbing news are bracing for the potentially devastating impact of new ABBA songs on their happy households.
It’s fair to ask why, after 35 years of blessed, ABBA-free silence, the four musicians in ABBA would see fit to inflict another bouncy, saccharine song upon the unsuspecting world. Don’t the carefully coiffed Swedes in their curious apparel realize that the world has enough troubles? Don’t they appreciate that only now, years later, are the ears and cerebral cortexes of human beings across the globe recovering from the inhumane punishment of the Mamma Mia! Broadway musical and follow-on film, which itself was one of the most devilish developments in the sad and sordid history of our species?
And that production, at least, was limited to old, familiar ABBA material. After years of hearing ultrapop songs like Dancing Queen and Fernando and Take a Chance on Me, the ABBA deniers have been able to erect mental defenses against those audio onslaughts and go to their own mental happy place to hear the strains of The Who’s Baba O’Riley or Led Zeppelin’s Whole Lotta Love instead.
But, alas, there won’t be any prepared mental defenses against new ABBA material. We’ll be walking down the street, passing a Starbucks or bakery, and the next thing we know we’ll be exposed unexpectedly to the new material and the shrill tones will become embedded in our brains where they will lurk forever.
The only good news is that ABBA has apparently recorded only two new songs, so the damage will be limited.
There are few things that can top a cold beer, a good cigar, a harbor view, and the early Beatles — of the rockin’ Please Please Me era — to make for an enjoyable early spring Friday night.