OK, I'm back. Maybe. A little.
Outside of the 80's Cruise, which was really my post-COVID (I hope) coming out party, this was my first live concert since March of 2020. Ironically enough (in Alanis Morissette fashion, which is to say it's not really ironic at all), it was at the same venue, The Patchogue Theatre, where I saw my last show. (It's not really ironic because it's like 5 minutes from my house, so it's kind of the most likely place for me to go.) The last one featured Cherish The Ladies, on the Saturday before Cuomo shut down Broadway and I realized that this whole COVID thing wasn't going to be business as usual. This time out, it was Colin Hay, the former lead singer of Men at Work, who has since developed a nice little solo career for himself.
Now I was thinking about getting tickets for this show for awhile. I was also thinking about getting tickets to see Danu (an Irish band that actually has an accent over their "u", but I have no idea what I have to do to create a letter with an accent over it and no motivation to learn). That one was also at the Patchogue Theatre this past February.
Ultimately, I decided not to go to that show, only because it was close enough to the cruise that I didn't want to chance getting COVID at the show and screwing up the 80's Cruise for Denise. In the end, I decided to hold off on getting tickets for Colin Hay until after the cruise, because I wasn't 100% sure how the shows on the cruise would impact my desire to get back into seeing live concerts. But as you can see, in spite of the difficulties I described in this blog, the cruise ultimately whet my appetite to get back out there for some more live music, at least occasionally.
When we got back from the cruise, I asked Denise if she was interested in seeing this show. She was, but unfortunately, because her back was such a mess for awhile there, she decided she'd better not try it. (The back situation also caused her to cancel out on seeing the Psychedelic Furs, who she was supposed to see the week we got back. I'm happy to report, though, that she's getting back into action and going to see APB at wherever the hell Eppy is holding My Father's Place shows now, this coming Sunday.)
So the day after our return, I went up online to see if there were any Colin Hay tickets still available. (I had looked during the cruise, and I knew the show was selling well.) There were still tickets, either in the last few rows of the main area of the theater or the last few rows of the balcony. I opted for the balcony, for both sightline and price reasons. I think I paid $37, not at all a bad price.
A few days before the show, I got an email from the Patchogue Theatre, describing their current COVID protocols. (There pretty much are none - you no longer have to show proof of vaccination or a COVID test to get in, and while masks were recommended, they weren't required. This was fine with me, since at this point, I think it's pretty much been shown that regular masks are nothing but colorful decorations that don't do a damned thing to prevent COVID anyway.) The email also stated that local Long Island artist Casandra House would be playing a set in the lobby before the show.
This was really good news to me. I had reviewed her debut album, The Roam, in 2018, and I really liked it. I had tried to see her live doing one of The Patchogue Theatre's "Live in the Lobby" shows either that year or in 2019. Unfortunately, I'd waited too long to get a ticket, and by the time I tried, the show was sold out. Consequently, I'd never seen her live show. So for me, this only added value to a concert I already felt was well worth the price of admission.
A couple of words about Colin Hay. I'd obviously enjoyed his work with Men at Work in the '80s. He used to play The Boulton Center fairly frequently, and I don't know why I never tried to see him there. Last year, Denise mentioned that her sister had been following his solo career, and she really liked what he'd been doing.
I went out and bought his first solo LP, 1987's Looking for Jack. It was OK, but nothing great. However, he's released a dozen other albums since then, and I notice that most of those that actually have ratings on the Sputnik Music site are rated higher than that first one. I did pick up his 2021 LP, I Just Don't Know What to Do With Myself, an album of cover songs that I enjoyed. So as that was his most recent album (I thought), I figured that between those songs and his Men at Work songs, I'd be familiar with enough of his material to make the show enjoyable. (I checked out the setlists he's been playing for the last week or two on setlist.fm, which confirmed this notion.)
When the day of the show rolled around, both of my children were amused at the thought that I was going out and Denise was staying home. ("Where are you going?" my daughter asked me incredulously. Does anyone out there want to buy a couple of gently-used young adults?)
The email had stated that the doors would open about 45 minutes before showtime. So I figured that since Cassandra's set was starting at 7PM, the doors would open at 6:15. I'd been to a couple of the Theater's "Live in the Lobby" shows (I distinctly remember seeing Miles to Dayton there), but not for a few years. Nevertheless, I thought I knew what to expect. I completely forgot that I'm a moron.
I got to the theater around 6:30. I wasn't sure what to expect of the parking situation in Patchogue Village these days. The last couple of times I'd gone to a show there, I'd wound up parking in my opthamologist's parking list across the street from the theater's parking lot. This time, though, I was lucky enough to get a parking space at the very back of the theater's lot itself (but only because I have a handicapped parking sticker). I listened to a song or two on my CD player in the car and headed in at about 6:40.
Unfortunately, when I got to the theater, the box office area was open, but the lobby itself was still locked. And when I looked in through the glass doors of the lobby, I didn't see what I expected to see.
The way the "Live in the Lobby" shows used to be set up (and I suspect they still are), the artist is set up in the middle of the lobby, with their back to the auditorium doors, and several rows of metal chairs are set up for patrons to sit in and enjoy their music. Unfortunately, what I saw was no chairs at all, and Cassandra's guitar set up in a corner in the very front of the lobby, right near where people walk in.
Now if I'd have thought about it at all, this made sense. In retrospect, there was no way they were going to block off the lobby with a bunch of metal chairs in between where people enter the theater and the auditorium area where Hay would be playing. ("Then they shouldn't have called it 'Live in the Lobby!' They tricked us!," I raged silently to myself. And of course, when I got home later and looked at the actual email, they hadn't said that at all. They just said that Cassandra would be playing a live set in the lobby before the show, and my mind had filled in the rest. So I was the dummy, not the Theatre.)
This was going to be a problem for me, though. There was no way I could stand through Cassandra's entire set. My standing days at concerts have long since passed. I could do a song or two, at most.
As I looked inside, the only seating I saw was a small bench against the wall near the Men's Room on the other side of the refreshment counter. So my only chance of hearing more than a song or two of Cassandra's set was to get inside right away and grab a spot on that bench. This would probably mean I'd have to sacrifice buying myself a bottle of water - unfortunate, but necessary.
As I looked inside, I saw the theater's volunteers busily at work stuffing the upcoming music schedule inside of the theater's programs. I also saw Michelle Rizzo (or Michelle Rizzo-Berg, as she's now apparently called), the theater's Executive Director, buzzing around, checking on last minute details, and John Blenn (who apparently either works at or volunteers at the theater now) walking with some other worker/volunters. John and I nodded to each other (although unfortunately, I never got a chance to say hello to him once the theater opened). Michelle didn't nod, mostly because she has no idea who I am. (I used to be somebody, I tell you!) And I saw a nicely dressed mother and daughter moving back and forth inside, who might have been associated with Cassandra, or even with Michelle, as they didn't seem to actually be working there. Then I saw them grab my bench. Damn it!
By the time they opened the doors at 7, I had positioned myself near the front of the line, and the mother and daughter were now standing to the side of the bench. As soon as the door opened, I made a beeline for that bench, trampling the little girl in the process. (Eat flowery carpet, kid, ha, ha, ha!) JK. At this point in my life, even at top speed, if I had been heading towards the child, she could have avoided me without breaking a sweat. Nevertheless, I did manage to secure myself a corner of that bench. Success!
It got better from there. As Cassandra began playing, I noticed that there was a small bar stand directly in front of me that was also selling water. I left my jacket on the bench, the universal symbol for "This spot is taken, sucka!" and was able to buy a water. I was even able to run in and use the Men's Room. I'm a tactical genius!
Then I settled in to try to listen to Cassandra's set (as I couldn't actually see her - the snacks counter was between me and the corner she was playing in).
I had listened to Cassandra's album during that afternoon, to try to refresh myself on her material. (Of course, the album is from 2018, so I had no idea how many of those songs she was still playing.)
Sadly, it was something of a wasted effort. In the beginning, I could hear her some. She sounded good, but I didn't really hear anything familiar. At one point, she played something bluesy that might or might not have been "Goodnight, Marionette," the last song off of her LP. A song or so later, she played something that vaguely sounded like (but wasn't) Joni Mitchell's "Night in the City". (I just bought digital copies of Joni's two-part Archives albums, each of which features five CDs' worth of material, and I've been listening to them like crazy over the last two weeks. So right now, everything sounds a little like Joni to me. When I go to bed, Joni plays her way through my dreams all night.)
As I tried my best to hear the music, I texted back and forth with my wife and daughter at home. I tried my best to convince my daughter that the concert scene was wild, with limbo dances and cocaine and random tattoo's happening everywhere. Your pappy is a wild man, sweetie! I don't think she bought it, though.
By 7:25 or so, the lobby was so noisy and full that I could only hear the barest trace of Cassandra. It was a shame. I was waiting to hear if she played my favorite song off of her albums, "Little Flower". But as best I could tell, she never did. (She does have a band, so maybe that's one of those songs she only plays with them. She was going it solo here.) If I'd heard it, I would have given up my spot on the bench, worked my way over to her and listened for a song or two. Then I'd have made my way upstairs to my seat. But I never did hear it, so at 7:50 or so, I gave up the ghost. Sadly, seeing Cassandra House in concert is still an incomplete for me. I'm going to need to catch her in a friendlier setting.
I took one last shot at the Men's Room, then headed up those stairs. (I think they added about twenty or more steps since the last time I sat up there. At least that's what it felt like. I'm actually at the lowest weight I've been at in years, but except for the cruise, I've been pretty inactive for most of the pandemic, something I'm going to need to remedy pretty soon.)
When I got upstairs and found my seat, I found something else I hadn't taken into account. I was in the very last row of the balcony, in the very last seat on the right-hand side. When I'd picked this seat on the seating chart, it looked like it was on the aisle. (I always like, when possible, to sit on the right-side aisle so my right leg is free.) Unfortunately, my aisle turned out to be ... well, basically a wall. Fuck!
Luckily for me, although the show was just about a sellout, the two seats next to me were empty, so I was comfortable all night. Note to self, though - remember that they don't always draw in the walls on seating charts!
Anyway, the sightlines down to the stage were great (even though I'd forgotten to bring my distance glasses. I haven't worn distance glasses for the last twenty years or so, since I had my cataracts removed. This pair only arrived after I got back from the cruise, and I still wasn't used to taking them around with me. I'm really not back in full concert mindset yet.)
The last time I was up there, for the Jon Anderson concert in 2019, I mentioned that there was an entire strange population of bat people that seemed to be living in the Patchogue Theater balcony, much like the people who live in the subterranean caves under Las Vegas. Sadly (or maybe fortunately), the pandemic seems to have cleared them all out, because last night's crowd was very well behaved.
But yeah, I could see the stage pretty clearly. It was set up simply - a few colored lights in the back, facing the crowd (one of which was unfortunately trained right in my eye all night), and four electric acoustic guitars set up next to one another, within Colin's easy reach.
OK, so now that you've hung in with me and been reading for about an hour, here's the part where I reward you with a couple of paragraphs about the actual concert. I can't believe you guys still read my reviews - I'd be pretty pissed with me by now.
What can I say to you about Colin Hay? Well, for starters, he played the show solo - no backing band whatsoever, not the easiest thing to do in a theater of this size.
According to Wikipedia, the Patchogue Theatre holds 1,200 people. (And I'm probably lucky if I didn't catch COVID after sitting in that crowded lobby for an hour, what with the Omicron numbers ticking back up. The only good thing is if I did, I still have a month to recover before my next cruise.) Although it's old (which Colin commented on), and it has chairs with wooden arms, it's still pretty comfortable. (Much more comfortable than the Royal Theater on the cruise ship. Fuck you, Royal Theater!). But a venue of this size isn't necessarily easy for a solo acoustic artist to command.
Nevertheless, command it Mr. Hay did. In all, he played for more than two-and-a-half hours, a set of fairly quiet songs played at a mostly slow pace (which Hay himself made fun of). This was because in between songs, he told a series of very entertaining (and occasionally poignant) stories about his life. He talked about his parents, his first girlfriend (when he was 8), Ringo Starr, Paul McCartney doing his dishes, his problems with alcoholism, his history of doing mushrooms and other drugs, and what it's like to be Colin Hay at age 68 and be able to walk around NYC mostly anonymously.
Overall, he played a setlist of 17 songs (or really 16, if you count the instrumental "Goodnight Romeo" and "I Just Don't Think I'll Ever Get Over You" as a one-song medley, since he went from one right into the other.) Three of them (all fairly near or at the end of the set) were three of his Men at Work classics, "Who Can It Be Now?" (I share Hay's sense of paranoia), "Overkill" and the closer, "Down Under", while two were from his covers album, Dusty Springfield's "I Just Don't Know What to Do With Myself" and The Kinks' "Waterloo Sunset".
Five of the others were from a brand new LP he only released two weeks ago, Now and the Evermore. The rest were an assortment of numbers from throughout his solo career. My favorite of those was called "Maggie", about his aforementioned first girlfriend when he was just a lad of eight. It was humorous, and ultimately tragic, as I guess things didn't work out so great for Maggie. (It was kind of like Deerheart's story about Skinny Julie in his rock opera The Cordon Bleu Years. Although at least that one worked out better in real life.)
Hay still has that sweet, sweet voice, and although he wasn't trying to get extra fancy except for once or twice, the man can still play guitar.
Overall, I really enjoyed the show, and it was nice to be out again at The Patchogue Theatre. So a thousand kudos to Colin Hay.
Denise and I will be back at the Patchogue Theatre in July to see Midge Ure and Howard Jones, which should be a great show as well.
So I'm back, a little bit, anyway. I don't plan to be going out to a whole bunch of shows anytime soon. In fact, the Howard Jones/Midge Ure show is the only other one I have tickets for right now. (Although I've got my eye on the possibility of seeing Aimee Mann open up for Steely Dan this summer at Jones Beach.) And I don't plan on doing anything anytime soon that requires much in the way of night driving right now (as I think I've gotten to be something of a menace doing any kind of extensive driving after dark). But at least I'm venturing out just a little, to bring you guys a little more content than I have been for the last two years. So let's see how that works out.
The final wrap-up: Colin Hay, Yay! Patchogue Theatre, Yay! Cassandra House, incomplete, through no fault of her own. (It was probably a Yay, but I'll have find out for sure some other time.)
For Colin Hay's setlist for this show, go to Colin Hay's setlist. For Cassandra House's website (which has a list of her upcoming live shows), go to Cassandra House's webpage. For the Patchogue Theatre's website, which has a list of their upcoming events, go to Patchogue Theatre's website. Bye for now, y'all!
