Attending the Arlo Guthrie Concert

Friday night I went to the Arlo Guthrie concert at the Phillips Center in Gainesville.  Originally, I asked my daughter and wife if they wanted to go with me.  Both said yes, but I was skeptical.  I called the box office and when I heard there were many tickets left, I decided I would take my chances the night of the show.  Often, I have got into concerts for next to nothing by waiting until the last minute and hanging out.  Anyway, I didn't want to be stuck with tickets because someone had backed out on me.

When Glani found out her guru, Hridayananda Maharaja, was giving a darshan, I knew she wouldn't go to the concert with me.  I asked her a couple of days before and she confirmed it.  "Okay," I thought.  "At least Radha will go."  I asked her again and she reiterated that she did indeed want to go.  "How many times do I have to tell you Dad," she said.  On the morning of the show, though, she started to waver.  Later that day, she seemed intent on going and I was happy.  I don't like to go to movies or concerts or out to eat alone.  I don't think many people do.  It's always much better when to have someone to share the experience with.

 

In the final hour, however, Radha backed out.  For a few minutes I felt stood up.  I thought about not going.  AV and Sri Bhakti were still going to go, though.  But Friday night is their date night and I didn't want to feel like the proverbial third wheel.  Then I decided I would go anyway. Radha understandably wanted to go out with her friends instead of being stuck with her father. Besides, she had some passing interest to see Arlo Guthrie but not enough to invest a whole teenage evening to  in him.   I did really want to see Arlo, and besides, it would give me another experience to write about.  He's 62 and who knows how long he's going to go on touring, anyway.  I had never seen him before and he's the frggin' son of Woody Guthrie, for crying out loud.  He knew Leadbelly and Big Bill Broonzy, and he's a great storyteller.  I couldn't pass it up.

So I went and got there before AV and Sri.  I also arrived before Lalita -sakhi and her friends Madhurya and Vegavati.  I told them I would try to help get them cheaper tickets with my Santa Fe ID.  Later, I felt bad because I actually forgot to help them when they got there.  By then, however, the balcony seats had gone down to $15 for everyone, including non-students, so it would have only made a little difference.  The balcony seats were originally $30 but were only $10 if you had a Santa Fe ID.  A UF ID, could score you a seat anywhere on the floor for only $10.  I had mentioned to Radha and Vrn my idea of using Govinda's ID while we were in school earlier, but they kind of laughed at me as if I looked way to old to pull it off.  

When I got there, I walked around the parking lot a bit to see if there were any scalpers with "Buying" and "Selling" signs.  No one was in sight.  I had pretty much surmised that the show was too small for "ticket service people," as they liked to be called, to bother with it.  I sat down near the door when I heard a man approach a lady and ask her if she wanted a free ticket.  "No, I already have one," she said.  I immediately got up and made myself noticeable to the man.  He looked at me and asked if I wanted it.  "Yes," I said.  "Thank you."  And he was gone.  It was an orchestra seat only eight rows from the stage.  I looked up at the crescent moon with the planet venus in visible conjunction.  It was beautiful and I had a free ticket in my hand.  I was glad I had came.

If Radha was with me, then I would have had to give up the ticket and probably get seats in the rafters.  AV and Sri went up there and they left at intermission, partly because of bad acoustics. I sat next to the guy  who gave me the ticket.  At intermission, he told me someone from his work had given them to him at the last minute and he couldn't find anyone to go with him.  In case he might be gay and had some strange ideas, I told him that my wife and daughter were going to go but decided at the last minute not to.  His told me his name was Eli Santana and that he was from the Domican Republic.  I said I had meant a lot of Dominicans while I was living in the Puerto Rico.  It turned out that we both had lived there at the same time in 1989 and 1990.

I also saw my International Relations teacher and Geology teacher there.  I chatted with Greg Mead, my Geology teacher, who is also a folk musician and he introduced me to his wife.  They were very nice and we chatted for about five minutes or so in the lobby, sharing our knowledge of music.  

As for the concert, it was very enjoyable.  The music was good but I found Arlo's ability to spin a yarn even better.  I arrived a song or two late.  When I finally got in, the first song I heard was  an old New Orleans blues song called "Gambler's Blues."  The chorus of the song rang out "Don't want no corn, peas or black molasses."

The band was five-piece, including Arlo on rhythm guitar.  He also had three lovely sounding sisters from Ithica, New York on harmonies called the Burns sisters.  

Arlo said many funny things.  Before the "Motorcicle Song" he explained that sometimes when he sees creative inspiration coming from the corner of his eye, he gets a paper and pen and readies himself.  On one occasion, he wrote down the line "I don't want a pickle, I just want to ride on my motorcicle," and thought, what a stupid line.  He ended up finishing the song, it became a hit and now he's been forced to sing it for the last 40 years.  "Why didn't the inspiration to write this song go to someone else?" he said.  "Where is Dylan when you need him?"

He talked about Woodstock and said he and his band had to be brought in on a helicopter because the traffic was impassible.  When he looked down he saw an incredible sea of people, a sight that has never been equalled again in his lifetime.  He said he remembered sitting between two cops, one fat and one skinny, and hearing them converse.  "Look at all those people down there," said the fat cop.  "I bet you a lot of them are hippies." "Yup," said the skinny cop.  "I bet you a lot of them are doing illegal things," said the fat cop.  "Yup," said the skinny cop.  "Well, I'm not going to do anything about it," said the fat cop.  "Neither am I," said the skinny cop.  It was at that point that, said Arlo, he realized they were going to have a really good time.

Arlo's voice was a bit gravely but still strong.  The band was unspectacular but decent and the backing vocals by the Burns sisters were great.  I didn't know many of Arlo's songs, save and except the standards like "Coming into Los Angeles," "City of New Orleans," and "Alice's Restaurant Massacre," a 18-plus minute song that he didn't sing.  "Some [songs] we're not going to get to tonight," Arlos said.  "ALICE"S RESTAURANT!" a man blurted out.  "That's one of them," Arlo said.  That disappointed me a little but by that time I was tired and not sure if I was up for the whole duration of that song.  I can understand the monotony he must feel singing a 18-minute song ten months of the year, daily, for four decades.

Arlo also sung several of his father Woody's songs, which were really the highlight of the evening for me.  Woody was the biggest  single influence on Bob Dylan's career and obviously Arlo's as well.  He said that his father was a writing maniac who would go over someone's house and write on everything he could find.  People are still sending some of his original lyrics back to the family.  Arlo claimed that his father wrote over 3500 songs that are still being recorded today.  

About a minute into Woody's famous "This Land is Your Land" song, Arlo stopped and commented on the audience's clapping along.  "Your clapping along is nice but it's really messing me up," he said.  

I'm glad I went, after all; even by myself.