I did end up going to the Eric Johnson concert and I'm glad I did. EJ is unmissable, and for me, he's one of those artists who feel like family, like King's X, Van Halen or ELP. I can't describe it, it's just music that gets so deep into your blood that it feels like it was born in you, or you knew it before you heard it. Something like that. Anyway, I left for the Saban Theater at around 6:15pm. The night was doggone cold but the rain hadn't started, and there was very little traffic on the 405. I hadn't been down Wilshire Boulevard in ages, so it was fun to drive through the heart of Beverly Hills, with it's stylish white buildings. I found schtreet parking on La Cienega, saving me 15 bucks, and I was inside the Saban by 7:10. It's another one of those restored 1920s-era movie palaces, most of which are in Downtown L.A., but some, like this one, are on the outskirts. As mentioned in the last blog, I actually bought my ticket for this show in 2021, but the tour got canceled - twice. Eric Johnson's management said "tickets will be honored," so I held on to mine (gotta have a paper ticket; can't stand mobile ticketing), and lo and behold, they gave me an upgrade to the floor, an excellent seat about 20 rows back.
At first, nobody was in the joint, just a handful of people, and I wondered if Eric was gonna have to face a mere smattering of fans. "Maybe because of the weather," I thought. Folks slowly trickled in, but even by 7:50, just ten minutes before showtime, the place was half empty. Then all of a sudden the floodgates opened, and everyone arrived starting at about 7:55. It was the latest arriving audience I've ever seen. In the old days, fans would fill an arena an hour early, and would eventually be chanting for the band to hit the damn stage, already. The fans tonight were older. Many had white hair. I'd guess that I, at almost 63, was among the younger ones, though I did see sprinklings of 30 to 50 year-olds here and there, amidst the 1000 strong who finally filled every seat. But boy did they wait til the last minute. Maybe they were hanging in the lobby.
The show started at 8:06 with Eric and bassist extraordinaire Roscoe Beck playing an acoustic duet of 3 or 4 songs, with Roscoe on stand-up bass. Then the rest of the band (Wayne Salzmann II on drums, Dave Scher on keys, second guitar and percussion) joined in to complete the rest of the 42 minute acoustic set.
After a 25 minute intermission, the band returned for an electric set that lasted almost 90 minutes.
I'd like to tell you about the music but I can't because no words will suffice. And I'm not trying to do one of those OMG jaw-dropping things, but I just have no words. If you've ever seen Eric live, you'll know what I'm talking about, but then I've gotta add that he may have his best band ever, and that he himself just gets more advanced on guitar as the years and tours go by. Eric will be 69 this year, and the only one who can touch him on guitar is himself, and he keeps blowing himself off the stage with every tour. It's freaking unreal.
I was speechless during the show and I remain so. I first saw Eric on September 29, 1990 at the Irvine Meadows Amphitheater when he opened for Joe Satriani. After that, I didn't see him until April 1997, at the Key Club on the Sunset Strip, when I went with the late, great Dave Small. We were living at the Howard Johnson motel at the time, with my Dad, on Reseda Boogalord. Dave and I went to both of EJ's shows at the Key Club, which were part of his Venus Isle tour. When you talk about music getting so far into your blood that it feels like you were born with it, "Venus Isle" is among my desert island albums. I first heard it when Dave and I were on our way to the air show at Edwards in 1996. It's top-ten all time for me, and Eric has recently re-scaled the Venusian heights with his most recent releases, the counterpart mini-albums "The Book of Making" and "Yesterday Meets Today".
Staring around 2000, he began touring regularly, and I've seen him about every two years since then, many times at The Canyon in Agoura, but also at The Roxy, and The Grove of Anaheim. I'd have to go back to my journals and count, but I'd guess I've seen Eric Johnson at least a dozen times.
I can't overstate the effect his music has had on my life, because the effect surpasses being only musical. And as powerful as music is, as a force (some have said it's the second greatest power after love), it's quite a statement to say that an artist's music is even surpassed by it's life-effect on a fan.....
And that's all I can really tell you. I'm glad I went, even though I probably won't be going to lots of concerts in the future, just because my life has taken a major-league turn, and I only have so much energy left to focus. But one concert I'll never miss is an Eric Johnson concert. If you've seen him live, you'll know why. ////
So that's my EJ review, written when I got home last night. I should add that he played a total of 2 hours and ten minutes, and that the lengthy, improvised guitar intro to "Cliffs of Dover" was by itself worth the price of admission. One thing that stands out about Eric, besides the staggering dexterity and musicality of his lead runs, is his tonal palette. He gets more colors out of his guitar than any player I've heard. At any rate, I'm glad the concert was last night, because tonight's weather would've been no fun to drive in.
I have one movie review of a film watched several days ago, one heck of a good spy thriller from MGM England called "Dead Man's Evidence"(1962). You've gotta pay attention on this one, so bring your scorecard or notepad or whatever works best. As it opens, a man with binoculars looks out on a Dublin beach, watching two women who've just discovered a washed-up dead body. One covers it with her coat, and both run away to call the police. The man with the binoculars walks away, and we cut to the offices of Brrrrittish Intelligence, where the Chief is briefing Agent "David Baxter" (Conrad Phillips). BI has obtained coroner's photographs that show the dead man was wearing a scuba suit. "We think he was one of our frogmen," says the Chief, "and a probable double agent." He's deduced this by a signet ring on one hand of the body, which is otherwise unidentifiable from being in the water.
Agent Baxter thinks it was a man he once worked with on a significant case, and promises a return on the chief's investment : "I'll get to the bottom of this, sir, and if it's not him, I'll find him and bring him back."
Well, get ready. You'll wind up needing (and wanting) to watch it for yourself, because I'm never gonna be able to give you all the details. When agent Baxter arrives in Dublin, he goes straight to the morgue where the body was taken. The coroner's assistant accepts his bribe, but then won't let him view the body. "That's weird", you're thinking, and then the local police supervisor gives him back his bribe money, but still won't permit an inquiry. Possibly, it's because Baxter hasn't identified himself as British Intelligence. He's posing as an insurance investigator, and he's competing for the truth with a very dogged reporter named "Paul Kay" (Alex MacIntosh) who remembers him from an overseas case and does indeed know he's BI, but promises to keep it a secret.
Kay has a female photographer named "Gay Clifford" (Veronica Hurst), who - we learn early on - is a contact of the man with the binoculars from the start of the movie. But who is he? Some kind of crime boss, and she a corrupt newswoman? We don't know, but Agent Baxter is going to get to the bottom of the case, that much you can be sure of. He locates one of the women who discovered the body on the beach, again identifying himself as an insurance investigator. "I'm interested in a signet ring on the left hand of the body. Did you notice it?" She seems nervous and kind of airheaded. "I'm sorry, I don't recall a ring. I was in shock from the way the poor man looked."
At one point, Baxter sneaks into the morgue, still trying to have a look at the body, only to have Kay the reporter surprise him. In between all of this, there are party scenes and social gatherings in which - every single time - drinks are offered and shared. I challenge you to find a "drinkier" movie. This one could serve as an advertisement for Jameson's Irish Whisky.
We eventually find out more about the dead frogman on the beach, and we're gonna hear more from the man with the binoculars, as well as Gay Clifford the photog. You've gotta be super-tight to write a schript with this much detail and fit it into 64 minutes. It's as good as a 007 flick, without the spectacular action scenes but it's got everything else, especially plot-upon-plot, and snappy, repartee dialogue from every character. Two Huge Thumbs Up for "Dead Man's Evidence". The picture is razor sharp. ////
That's all I've got for now. My blogging music is "Black Noise" by FM, my late night is the Tamerlane Opera by Handel. I'll be glad when Winter is over and I send you Tons of Love as always.
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
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