A lot of music

It all began on Saturday night. The little lady and I went to the Dodge Theatre in beautiful downtown Phoenix. At 3rd and Roosevelt we were treated to a fine display of the city's finest citizenry. Two young ladies and two young men were fighting in the street. It was mullets and tattoos a-flyin'.

That was not the only excitement of our evening. We actually sat in a nice air conditioned theatre, and watched Lyle Lovett perform. Not enough people give Lyle his due. He is a consummate wordsmith, and musician. He has no need to scream in your face, and overwhelm you with gratuitous decibels. One can sit and listen to the precise finger picking of his Martin acoustic guitar and wonder why, why isn't he a bigger star for his music than for his hair and Julia Roberts?

A friend of mine, he said to me a skinny girl is a misery
I shook my head because I knew he couldn’t be right
But that’s when I thought back to just last night

When I got home, it was maybe a little late.
There was ne're a crumb or ne're a plate
There was no martini, no glass of grape.
But it was there I sought to contemplate.

Some things, my baby don’t tolerate
My baby don't tolerate
My baby don't tolerate from me.

Or maybe something like...

Given that true intellectual and emotional compatability
Are at the very least difficult
If not impossible to come by
We could always opt for the more temporal gratification
Of sheer physical attraction
That wouldn't make you a shallow person
Would it?

Maybe this is more to your liking...

If I had a boat
I'd go out on the ocean
And if I had a pony
I'd ride him on my boat
And we could all together
Go out on the ocean
Me upon my pony on my boat

Treat yourself and listen to some Lyle...

I recommend some of my favorites like If I had a Boat, North Dakota, Here I Am, Fat Babies, Family Reserve, Penguins, Since the Last Time, and Flyswatter/Ice Water Blues


Folks were also treated to conversational tid bits that may be scripted out, but don't seem so. In a word, Lyle Lovett is genuine.

Lest I forget the formidable talent of Francine Reed or her sister Margeaux. My God. What voices...

...that reminds me... go on iTunes and find some Francine Reed...

Then last night we went to an outdoor pavilion... sure, it was 115 that day, humid, dust storm looming in the distance, but for crying out loud, it was STEELY DAN. Michael McDonald was there as well singing his hits.

Now this show was uncomfortable for many reasons. I was tired, cranky, hot, sweaty, the guy sitting next to me was a sasquatch with epilepsy, and it was hot. Did I already mention that? Well, it was.

It is hard to fathom that such funky music came from the minds and talent (and there is a lot there) of two of the stiffest white men I have ever seen. Walter Becker has one motion and it is this: the Santa Clause robot that runs on batteries and shakes the bell. You know the one... the hips move one way, the head shakes the other... my back got stiff watching him!

Fagen? What can you say about Fagen... IGY was a masterpiece...

My only complaint musically was the lack of the songs Rikki, Babylon Sister, Deacon Blues, or Reelin in the Years...

Apparently, a lot of folks came to see Michael McDonald. Sasquatch was gone for the second set (along with his hyper-active/non-rhythmic gyrations) and lots of older couples left during Steely Dan's set. I guess they could not appreciate the jazz musings of old stoners. Elongated solos and LOUD brass duels just weren't their thing, I guess.