The Man Show A near capacity crowd, consisting almost entirely of ultra-laidback dudes, filled the Visulite Theatre last Thursday for a show with the acclaimed Steve Kimock Band. Kimock, who Jerry Garcia once tagged as his “favorite unknown guitar player,” is one of those musicians who’s been around forever (he’s performed nationally for over 25 years) and played with everyone (from the aforementioned Dead leader and various after-Dead incarnations to Merl Saunders and Zappa alumni to name a few). But the man could go virtually unnoticed if he was to stroll through the audience minus the guitar. The appearance was dubbed as an “early show” with doors opening at 8pm, but it was nearly 10pm when the guitar virtuoso and his crew took to the stage, and no one seemed to really mind thanks in part to quick service at the bar which kept the bottles and drafts of brew flowing. Don’t get me wrong, there were at least a handful of chicks on hand to witness the extended, improvisational jams with undetectable beginnings and ends. I just wonder if their boyfriends are the ones who dished out the $20 bucks per ticket, and if these guys also have to pay for their sweetie’s friend to come along so she’ll have someone to talk to during the show. I’m pretty sure that was the case for the fella and the two chatty socialites I stood near for a good part of the show. — Lynn Farris
Forever Young Ever wonder just how much the message of the 60s has trickled down to “the youth of today”? Wonder no more. At Dylan’s moderately attended gig Sunday night at Cricket Arena, the question was answered with a resounding “man, y’all got any acid?” “Well, no, we don’t. Sorry.” Of course, by this time, the crew of young gentlemen behind us were on to other ways of entertaining themselves, drug (if not alcohol) free-style. “I didn’t pay $40 to see a bunch of damn country music,” one yelled. Not to be outdone, his friend chimed in: “Aerosmith was better than this! Aerosmittttth!” Thinking to myself that the muses had smiled upon me and this column had already written itself, I turned my attention back to the show, possibly the best of the four Dylan shows I’ve seen — Dylan was alive, shuffling around, and with better interplay than I’ve ever seen him have with a band (except for The Band, of course). Despite Observer critic Tonya Jameson’s review of the show saying Dylan’s “jam band” aspects of the show turned her off (note: Dylan has written plenty of 10-minute long songs — this does not constitute “jam band status”), most in attendance greedily ate up nuggets like “All Along The Watchtower” (done Hendrix-style), “Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door,” and “Rainy Day Women # 12 and 35,” whose “everybody must get stoned” line pleased the gentlemen behind me. Even music such as this didn’t soothe the savage beasts. “Aerosmith kicks your ass! Hell, Creed kicked your ass!” Thankfully, a friend straightened him out. “Dude. I wouldn’t go that far.” — Tim Davis
Geeks Go Surfing Weezer, patron saints of ironic geekdom to fanboys everywhere, played to an enthusiastic crowd last Tuesday at Cricket Arena. Area thrift stores reported their shelves swept of old athletic t-shirts with numbers on the back, sweatbands, horn-rimmed glasses, and old Pumas. As usual, the Weezer show was excellent. And, as usual, the tongue-in-cheek nods to rock excess were in full force. Various stages of the show saw a blinking, Las Vegas-style “W” on the drum riser, a nod to the old Van Halen logo. Later, a larger version of the same W descended from the ceiling. The song “Only In Dreams” made you think you were dreaming, as the band virtually disappeared in a smoke machine fog. Soon, though, the crowd was showered with gold and silver confetti, which seemed to sate them. Most interestingly, the crowd did not wait for the encore of “Surf Wax America” to rip up large sections of plywood covering the arena floor, hoist them up, and truly do some crowd surfing. A few pros pulled the feat off to fine effect. Others, however, forgot the first rule of surfing, and rode the wave too long, face-planting into the arms of the yellow-jacketed security force in front of the stage. — Tim Davis
This article appears in Feb 15-21, 2002.
