Phil Lesh & Friends primarily differentiates from the Dead & Company in that they play to smaller venues. Deadhead energy filled Fenway Park like the cathedral that the sports world reveres it as. The Leader Bank Pavilion on South Boston's waterfront. Compared to the Fenway show, the Pavilion was a relative spiritual revival tent of Deadheads. As a more low profile show than the nights at Fenway, the sense of community kinship was even stronger at the Pavilion that night. My seat was in the concourse section just beyond the perimeter of the tent. Metal tables and lawn chairs on synthetic turf. In this communal engagement of generations fans had even brought young children to enjoy in the moment (one that they too contributed to through being there). Much like with the Dead & Company show, the first set was mainly setting the tone. Chill vibes (and some smoke) wafted in the air. People were singing along with the chorus to "Brown-Eyed Women". Concertgoers were dancing at the outer edges of the tent.
Overcast skies led to drizzles. Drizzles led to a downpour. With all that rain came electricity. The concert was paused while the staff made sure that everyone remaining at the venue had a seat within the shelter of the tent so that everyone could safely take in the rest of the show. Thankfully, there were enough empty seats to accommodate this emergency protocol. With the tent providing limited coverage, show itself had to end prematurely. The thing is that the ambience made for such a special experience. Of his 62 year career, The Grateful Dead bassist may consider this one of the most memorable. Amid the music and thunder, flashes of lightning seconds apart could be seen through the sheets of rain cascading off the sides of the tent. To the tune of "Eyes of the World", Mother Nature let down her figurative hair and was revealing in the moment. "Terrapin Station" was the closer. An experience in itself, this song builds from movement to movement. As if following a hymnal, the community of Deadheads singing that "Some rise!", "Some fall!", and that "Some climb, too get to Terrapin." The song continues building to an apex where the whole venue erupts with repeated chants of "Terrapin!" in communal unison. Whether it is in a baseball stadium seating 37,755, or a seaside tent with a 5,000 capacity, the spiritual impact of "Terrapin" live is something that recordings can only begin to fully share. Those secondhand observers can't vicariously experience the emotional weight of this song being communally lived by performers and audience members on synching wavelengths.
After "Terrapin", Phil apologized for having to cut the show short, and the crowd dispersed out into the thunderstorm. While carefully making my way back to Orange Line, I was thankful for sartorial preparations. As I waded across deep puddles, my Duck Boots kept me dry. It was like when the city's amphibious "Duck Boats" enter into the Charles River.
The Phil Lesh concert was sandwiched between seeing two guitar gods live. In light of Jeff Beck's passing, one of my big goals for 2023 was seeing legendary guitar greats while I still had the privileged opportunities. Peter Frampton is a musician who is often underappreciated when in music fans' discussions. He was often written off as a "pretty boy", but his fans could recognize the musician's talent and absolute love for performance. Despite not charting to well, Frampton is extremely prolific, and his guitar playing is extraordinary. Like Suzanne Ciani, Frampton does get due recognition in niche categories. In 2007, his "Fingerprints" album earned him a Grammy for Best Pop Instrumental Album. Now faced with a inclusion body myositis, the guitarist plays as long as his body will allow, and I'm so grateful that I was able to see him this summer at the MGM Music Hall at Fenway.
Peter Frampton is the type of artist that loves connecting with his audience as well as the music. While Clapton seemed despondently in his own musical headspace last year, Frampton was seated out into the middle of the crowd, speaking candidly with the audience, and was thanking us as he ad-libbed with his talk box verbalization. Frampton gets so caught up in the throes of the music that he remained seated for the sake of his safety. Especially for someone not yet born at the time of Frampton's most successful tours, it was like a time warp to witness 60's "liquid light show" effects adapted for 2023 production capabilities. This technique traditionally creates psychedelic visual effects by emitting projector lights through slides where oil and water based chemicals are playing upon each other's nature. To audience largely comprised of babyboomers, 70's pieces like "Show Me the Way" and "Baby, I Love Your Way" were crucial parts of his set, but his instrumental cover of Soundgarden's "Black Hole Sun" was one of the most touching performances of the night. This gem off the "Fingerprints" album took an even more layered meaning when its songwriter Chris Cornell died in 2017. Even to those who couldn't connect with the grunge movement, Frampton's instrumental interpretation has the ability to reach across to fans of different genres. Like what Vika "VKGoesWild" Yermolyeva does with the piano, or Gabriella Quevedo with the acoustic guitar, Peter took the Soundgarden version wholecloth and found away to transmute every contribution (from vocal to cymbal) into parts of his guitar performance. Closing it off with a little bit from the talk box. Even the talk box is something that I couldn't completely appreciate until seeing a master using it. Unlike some autotune softwares and other voice modulators, the talk box technology reminds you of how malleable sound can be. Like clay, the music created through Frampton's guitar playing is simultaneously fed into his mouth, and he orally sculpts it into spoken word. It's a novel alternative to singing with the sound coming from the chest, the I'd love to hear a speech therapist analyze, and the technique is 60 years old. Like seeing Celine Dion perform in 2019, seeing Frampton this summer was truly both a gift and a blessing. His joining Sheryl Crow and Stevie Nicks at the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony serves as a reminder of how much a treasure Frampton continues to be.
The second guitar legend that I got to witness this summer was Carlos Santana. I was in high school when I first started focusing my attention on "classic rock" through the programming choices of Boston's WZLX radio station. By the time that Santana was collaborating with Rob Thomas and the Product G&B, I was regularly listening to the old classics of "Black Magic Woman" and "Oye Cómo Va". As Pandora's streaming has opened my eyes to more forms of rock, I know why Jimi Hendrix's "Star Spangled Banner" felt like the only instrumental piece. Even there, that same recording teases with that transitional intro into "Purple Haze" until everything stops short. I digress. Carlos Santana was one of those 60's guitar heroes that I wanted to see perform while it was still possible. Ever the collaborator, Santana surrounds himself with a talented team of musicians and singers. Cindy Blackman Santana (Carlos's wife) treated us to a few rhythm spotlight pieces. Sometimes with bassist Benny Rietveld, and sometimes on her own. With a pair of musicians stepping up to sing lead, Santana covered many stars that had been contemporaries of his. The Zombies, The Doors, the Temptations, Tito Puente, and James Brown were all honored with covers that night. Santana would take moments mid-song to step up the microphone, and say blurbs of what he considered pieces of wisdom. Out of respect to him and his generation, I listened with open ears and an open mind. That's why when he interjected into "It's a Man's Man's Man's World" to spout off his brand of feminism, I was left wondering if I had heard him right. I wasn't recording the performance, so I don't have the quote in verbatim, but he opened with something to the sound of "I don't care if you're gay, straight, trans, closeted, and shit...". At that point, I'm internally facepalming. He went on to praise women as if they're demigods, primarily because of the cisgender female reproductive capabilities. In that big soapbox moment, continued to just unleash this transphobic diatribe which happened somehow be misogyny masked in self-righteous "feminism". Like when J.K. Rowling overstayed her time in the spotlight, I was looking for a reason to not immediately write this music icon off as a "TERF" (trans-exclusionary radical feminist". A 76 year-old may be very stuck in their ways, but Santana was 21 when the Compton's Cafeteria Riots made his hometown of San Francisco a key place for trans rights activism. The validity of transgender identity (and it juxtaposed recognition of cisgender identity) has continued to develop. Both those concepts and the Higgs boson particle barely theoretical when Santana was born, and here we all are in 2023. It was weeks later that an article was published about Santana saying something transphobic at a show further down the Atlantic coast. I knew exactly what speech it was talking about, and didn't personally feel so alone in my noticing the toxicity. What made things worse was the guitarist's response to being called out. I tell you, in the MGM Fenway, I was fantasizing about having the opportunity to have an open conversation with Carlos Santana on the matter. On Facebook, he wrote "I am sorry for my insensitive comments. They don't reflect that I want to honor and respect all person's ideals and beliefs. I realize that what I said hurt people and that is not my intent. I sincerely apologize to the transgender community and everyone who I offended.". I was only further stunned. This "sincere" apology had all the telltale signs that it was more the product of him consulting with lawyers and a PR team. His sincere wording completely undermined fans who want their gender identity recognized by this musician who they've admired. It's tone deaf for him to treat the subject of trans identity as just a difference of "ideals and beliefs". It's like if Kyrie Iriving was to sincerely apologize for offending the "ideals and beliefs" of those who argue that the earth is round.
I was still stewing in the Santana bewilderment when I attended the Boston FanExpo the next morning. This was my first time ever attending a convention of this size, and I eventually just focused on the moment. There were somethings that I wasn't prepared for. I didn't know if it was just the impact of the SAG strike that even non-photographed meet & greets with the actors felt to an extent commodified. Some stars who I wanted to meet weren't available for meet and greets on the day that I attended. I sat in on a Zachary Levi speaking engagement, and then pretty much enjoyed the convention as a subcultural expo. As an illustrator, I took some time to just hang out and sketch characters, and meet some vendors. In the artists' alley, there was one table that I particularly gravitated toward, and I got to geek out with Heather Filtz from Catawampus Press before picking up Pokemon and Totoro prints. To my delight, another vendor wasn't there so much as part of the arts and entertainment industry as they were there for the arcane and occult. Crystals! I have some favorite crystal retailers, and most of them have brick & mortar establishments in Boston. Right in front of my keyboard, I have an arrangement of lapis lazuli (for creative expression and resonance), amethyst (to open my intuition), and some clear quartz (to amplify energies). Browsing through crystals, I spoke with staff members from Lady Lynora's Gemstone Treasures and Spiritual Gifts. I selected two "wands" of howlite and an iridescently treated sodalite, a lapis lazuli heart with a gold design etched into its face, and an ornate box carved from sheesham wood. Like foods in a pantry, I keep different crystals around for different purposes, and having such a beautiful box around is a great way to keep a set group of crystals together.
That's it for this installment of r0ckbl0gster, but tune in next time for further tales of my continuing adventures.
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