Rich:
What a fantastic review!
Torrey
----- Original Message -----
From: "Rich Verson" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>
To: <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>
Sent: Saturday, May 19, 2001 11:39 AM
Subject: "WILD RIDE" - Concert Review, Chicago, May 18th
> (this is lengthy, but I want to be thorough! concert photos coming soon to
> the Doobfan website)
>
> -----------------------------------
>
> Chicago, May 18th, 2001
> Doobs to play a benefit for the Sacred Heart Schools of Chicago. Location:
a
> beautiful, huge (huge!) tent capable of holding 1,500, located at the
Finkl
> Steel Company in Chicagoıs Southport neighborhood. Weather is clear and
> cool; an absolutely gorgeous evening.
>
> The evening begins at 6:30, with dinner and drinks for 1,000 invited
guests.
> I didnıt pay the higher ticket price for dinner, opting for the donation
fee
> that gets me in at 8:30 for the silent and live auctions & concert.
>
> I pull in and give my car to the valet service thatıs been set up. Itıs 12
> bucks, but hey, itıs a benefit for a good cause (and the Doobs are all
about
> good causes.) Walking in to the registration area, I proceed to the
> Pre-registration table (thereıs also a Walk-In table). Kathy Fivelson from
> Sacred Heart is there. I spoke to her a few weeks earlier. We talk, sheıs
> very cool, and letıs me in early. The first area I walk through is full
of
> the silent auction items, autographed guitars and other memorabilia. I
shoot
> past and walk in to the main area of the tent, where 1,000 people are
seated
> having dinner. Heading up to check out the stage, I grab a beer, which is
> free. I grab two. In front of the stage are the live auction items, six
> guitars, signed by the Broıs, U2, Crosby Stills and Nash, Carlos Santana,
> The Eagles, and Bob Dylan. The only other people hanging out at the stage
> are two ladies who were at the Green Bay concert the night before. Right.
A
> couple hard-core fans to hang withSand they were great!
>
> Instrument check. Guy checks his keys. Keith checks his set, the girls
wave
> and he comes over with backstage passes, which heıd promised to them the
> night before. Jealously encompasses my body. ³Keith, Iıd like to get some
> pictures after the show for the Doobfan website.² ³No problem², he says.
> ³Come on back afterwards². Yes Sir. (I always follow orders.)
>
> Live auction begins around 8:45, and the guitars fetch between $3,000 and
> $6,000 apiece. Backstage, the corporate meet-and-greet is taking place
with
> the band, lined up for photos with a moving herd of guests. I can see Pat
> and Big Mike, shaking hands and smiling for the camera. At the
microphone,
> the school officials and organizers are doling out thank you's. And now,
> itıs show time.
>
> The chairperson of the event introduces the Broıs. The Harleys rev up,
nice
> and loud. Tommy begins playing as he walks on to the stage. Then the
drums.
> Pat is last on stage as Rockinı Down The Highway kicks out of the P.A.
> Still, there are only a handful of us up at the stage, until we start
> clapping and jumping around. Halfway into the song, the sea of people at
the
> stage is as deep as I could manage to see. And theyıre taking our lead. In
a
> matter of about 30 seconds, the place is jumping. No warm up. The crowd
went
> from ³Park² to fifth gear by the time the guitar solo kicked in. And it
> never stopped. ³Rockin² was followed by ³Jesus², which had me laughing to
> myself. (Good song for a Catholic school charity event!) ³Dangerous² is a
> song that the Broıs had kicked off with the last few times Iıd seen them.
> Tonight, it was further down the set list, but it was by far the best
> version Iıd ever heard. The acoustic and slide breaks were extended and
> KICKED BUTT. Tommy in particular was having fun during that, singing silly
> melodies that only we along the front of the stage could hear. And, of
> course, Johnıs slide needs no words.
>
> Guy was featured as heıs been done in recent shows, with a chord-based
tonal
> solo on ³Donıt Start Me Talking². Fabulous. Not a lot of fast, fancy
> finger work here, and Guy proves on this song that less is definitely
more.
> (Hey Guy, how about a keyboard clinic at convention for those of who play
> the 88ıs? And Iım serious!)
>
> I look around and wonder if I should snap a few photos. No one else is
> taking pictures except for the two official photographers who are standing
> next to me with their film and digital rigs. Screw it. Pat and John are in
> front of my nose, alone on stage, playing their acoustics. I whip out my
PhD
> camera (Push Here Dummy), and take two pictures. I am immediately scolded
> and threatened by the photographer next to me, and actually feel badly for
> possibly blinding Pat and John who bore the brunt of the electronic
assault
> I wielded. I pocket the camera.
>
> By this time, the girls and I have our clap-and-sway routine down pat.
> Moving in rhythm with the guitar players and Mr. Russoıs choreographed
moves
> at center stage, the house is coming down and my voice is almost gone. And
> weıre about halfway through the set list. Can I survive this? Are you
> kidding? Tommy solos wildly in front of us, Pat takes over and jumps onto
a
> table in front of the stage and solos to the crowd in front of him. Weıve
> seen this before over the years. Give the Broıs a f---ing great crowd and
> youıll get your moneyıs worth. And they were clearly enjoying the hell out
> of it. This, my fellow Fan Club members, is but the appetizer to the main
> course at the HOB in Hollywierd next month.
>
> They finish with Long Train, and the two encore songs, China Grove and
LTTM.
> Trademark signature bow. Picks and sticks tossed into the crowd. And Keith
> comes over to us and personally hands each of the girls a pair of his
> signature sticks. I picked up my beer along with my composure and head
> behind the black velvet curtain with the girls. Backstage, Skylark is
> chatting with some personal friends and informs us that the rest of the
> Broıs are having a wash-up and changing into dryer clothes. I talk with
> Skylark and grab a photo with him. He goes back to his friends. Keith
> emerges first and chats with the girls and me. I grab a pic with him, too.
> The set is coming down, the trailers are loading up, and a lame DJ is
> entertaining whatıs left of the dwindling crowd. The band is now in a
> secluded area of the tent accessible only by a glass door thatıs guarded
by
> two black suit security guards. Keith tells us that they never eat dinner
> before a showSmakes them ³sluggish². So theyıre in the room feasting.
Tommy
> comes out in about 15 minutes, hanging by the door with a bag over his
> shoulder and is clearly looking for someone. We mosey over and have a
brief
> chat and get some pictures. The girls talk to him about tonightıs crowd,
> comparing these venues to staged shows like the sound staged Wildfire
studio
> benefit. Tommy tells us that theyıre leaving shortly; driving all night to
> Kentucky for a private affair Saturday night, then back to Chicago for a
> private affair Sunday night. J (Time for Rich to put his detective hat
> back on!) Tommy says his goodbyes, and disappears back into the private
> room. Soon, the remainder of the uneaten food is being brought out, and I
> quickly realized what was going on. There is a second private entrance
into
> that room, and the band has left or is leaving through the other door. I
> quickly corral one of the security guards for his assistance. He finally
> relents, and takes us outside to an area where the trucks are being
loaded,
> and a white van is waiting with its engine running. He tells us to wait,
and
> he walks over to talk with the driver. ³Theyıve left², he tells us.
> ³Impossible² I said. ³Thereıs still one van waiting here.² And I was
right.
> There were only two Doobs left, and John and Guy come walking down the
alley
> in the darkness between two buildings. We walk over and are immediately
> greeted by two of the nicest guys youıd ever met. Itıs like we were old
> friends. The girls immediately give hugs and kisses, and more hugs and
> kisses. (I shake hands, thank you very much.) After a minute or two, Guy
> pulls me aside and asks that I say something to John. So, during a lull in
> the conversation, I tell John that his playing tonight was exceptional. He
> thanks me and appreciates the comment. Then I say, ³But youıre no Eric
> Clapton². Well, he knew what was up. He looks at Guy and they both start
> laughing. And I started feeling like crap for saying thatSbut it was a
> harmless inside joke. One of the tour coordinators passes us in a hurry
and
> says sternly, ³12:30 departure, letıs go!² ³Itıs 12:30?² John says to no
> one in particular. ³OK², he says, ³but first we have to take a picture.²
> Cool. We snap the picture, theyıre in the van and the band is on their
way
> to their offsite motor homes for the trip to the land of bourbon and horse
> racing.
>
> The girls and I go back inside where the roadies are instructing the local
> union labor what-goes-where in the semiıs. All thatıs left on stage are
the
> aluminum frame drum risersSand Big Mikeıs set list, which turns out to be
> ³cemented² to the riser. I canıt budge itSso I take a picture of it
instead.
>
> The three of us are the last to walk through the gates of The Finkl Steel
> Company at 12:35a.m, followed by the semi trucks nipping at our heels. We
> exchange street and email addresses, looking forward to get-togethers at
> Doob concerts this summer in Milwaukee (July 7th, SummerFest) and Geneva,
IL
> (suburban Chicago, August 25th).
>
> Now, if I can only find out where they are in Chicago Sunday nightS
>
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