Running On Empty

I've been going to shows now for three decades. I've experienced shows in everything from football stadiums to small houses. I dearly love live music, and I frequently get the chance to talk to people I see out at shows who share my passion, and there is one thing we all agree on; local audiences are about as rude as they come. Now I realize that it only takes one idiot to ruin a magical night of music, but I refuse to believe that I'm always seated in a row of with that one idiot. Sunday night's Jackson Browne show was a prime example of how some people apparently just come out to shows to be seen or, in this particular case, heard. 

I was sitting in the last row of the orchestra section at the PAC Sunday night, so I was about halfway back from the stage. During the show's opening act—which incidentally was incredible—a constant conversation could be heard between at least three women behind me in the grand tier section. The brain trust actually raised their voices during the opening act's songs so they could be heard. Really? REALLY? There was also some guy off to my left who was talking in a slurred voice loudly to what I could only assume was an imaginary friend, since he was standing alone. To the PAC's credit, the ushers asked the guy several times to go find his seat, but he was either too drunk or too stupid to comply. 

Once Browne hit the stage the behavior got worse. Browne advised the crowd that he'd be taking requests, which led to a volley of shouted song titles from the crowd. Okay, fine, no problem. He prompted that interaction. But once he started playing, two incredibly annoying things happened, at least around the section where I was sitting. First, folks kept wandering down the side aisles, presumably to get a closer look at Browne. When Browne didn't play a song the wanderers knew, they chose instead to catch up on current events with each other. I was seated on the aisle, so in some cases folks were standing right next to me shooting the breeze in the middle of a song. When I ventured a whispered "Shhh!" to try and break up the conversation, in one case one of the offenders sarcastically said, in a loud voice, "Ooh, we're disturbing the PAC! We're disturbing the PAC!" Damn right you were, but to you it was all good fun. People had paid upwards of $60 apiece for tickets to the show. They didn't want to listen to you talk about the fish you caught last week.

The second thing that happened involved a couple seated in the two empty seats next to me after some sort of seating mix-up. The female half of the couple was visibly drunk, and slurring her words. She was upset about being moved, and continually called out to some unseen person who presumably had better seats than her, saying things like, "Okay, you won this round, bitch," and "Payback's a bitch!" Then (and this is the best part), when one of the wanderers in the aisle piped up, the woman would bark a slurred "SHADDAP!" to quiet him or her down. The man with the agitated woman eventually realized that everyone around them was secretly plotting their demise and steered her toward the exit. 

Again, the ushers and security were not standing by letting this happen. The folks at the PAC and Coliseum are friendly, professional, and definitely do their jobs the best they can. It should also be noted that rude audiences are not limited to these two venues. I once spent an evening at the Charleston Music Hall behind a person who spent the whole show with their back to the stage complaining about how expensive their ticket was. They turned around to actually watch the show maybe twice. It's frustrating, and it's unnecessary.

In short, I'm "Running On Empty" when it comes to tolerating rude, inconsiderate douchebags that ruin it for the rest of us. Do us all a favor and stay home. Sure, you have the same right to be there when you buy a ticket, but that doesn't mean you get to talk over the performing act. Show a little class.

Okay, stepping down from my soapbox, loud talkers aside, Sunday night's show was musically magical from beginning to end. When opening act Sara Watkins stepped onto the stage with her fiddle, I was trying to remember where I'd heard her name before. Then it hit me; Nickel Creek. Sara Watkins had been part of that now-defunct bluegrass outfit, along with her brother Sean and mandolin virtuoso Chris Thile. Thile now plays with Punch Brothers, but Sean was right there onstage Sunday night playing with his sister. As a solo artist, Watkins was every bit as good as she was when I saw Nickel Creek at the Music Farm a few years back. She sang an played fiddle, performing songs from her two solo albums, such as "All This Time," "Lock & Key," and "You and Me," as well as a great cover of Lester Scruggs' "Dig a Hole in the Meadow." At one point an audience member yelled out a request for "Lonesome Valley," prompting Watkins to talk briefly about how she had recently played that tune on the radio show A Prairie Home Companion. "Oh that's really nice," said Watkins to the fan. "We're not going to play it, but thanks." Watkins ended her set with "Take Up Your Spade," another song from her most recent release, "Sun Midnight Sun." Jackson Browne sat in on that final song, singing backup just as he did on Watkins' album. 

When Browne returned a little while later to start his headlining set, he walked out without any fanfare and sat down at the small piano at the side of the stage. Browne opened with "Black and White," and over the next 90 minutes he rolled out a show that was mellow and anything but rushed. Browne has always had a laid-back vibe to his recordings, even on more rocking tracks like "Running On Empty." He's one of the finest examples of that sunny, chilled-out style of folk-rock that can only come from California. Interestingly enough, Sunday's show was far from a string of one greatest hit after another. Backed by drummer Mauricio "Fritz" Lewak and guitarist Val McCallum, Browne was in good spirits as he ran through a set list that dug surprisingly deep into his catalog. There were some obvious favorites played, such as "Naked Ride Home" and "Shape of a Heart," but Browne pointed to his ample supply of guitars behind him and stated that he was prepared for any musical situation. Among the requests that Browne honored were excellent renditions of "My Opening Farewell" and "Something Fine." 

As more requests were shouted out between songs, someone yelled, "Something happy!," to which Browne smiled and said, "We try to save the happy ones. We don't want to use them up too early." Midway through the show Browne took a break while McCallum performed one of his own songs, "Tokyo Girl" with Watkins returning to the stage to play fiddle and sing. Later songs by Browne included "These Days" and "For a Dancer." Toward the end of the show, Browne brought Watkins and her band back out to assist on "Live Nude Cabaret," "The Late Show," and "I'll Do Anything." After a stripped-down version of "Running On Empty," Browne and the other musicians bid the audience goodnight, but they returned moments later to play Browne's version of the Eagles classic "Take It Easy," which Browne co-wrote with Glenn Frey. 

For a guy who is now 63 years old, Browne looked easily about 20 years younger. His singing voice is also as string as ever, and he genuinely seemed to be enjoying himself up on the stage. It isn't as if the guy needs to tour to make a living, I mean, did I mention that he co-wrote "Take It Easy?" I'd love to see the royalty checks he's still receiving for just that one song, let alone the dozen or so that regularly get played on classic rock radio. Sunday's show was a great musical experience, even despite the rude behavior of some of the audience members.