ship without a rudder's like a ship without a rudder

I saw the Lemonheads last night, for the very first time.  It wasn't the real Lemonheads, but rather Evan Dando with a bassist and drummer... Still, it was as authentic as it's been for years now.  There is only one Lemonhead anymore.

I got into that band later than I should have, and even then I was only sixteen.  I moved to Boston at that age, and they had just become huge following the release of their fifth album, It's A Shame About Ray.  The first three things that I ever knew about them were:

1. They used to have two singers and songwriters, but the other guy (Ben Deily) had quit the band.
2. Juliana Hatfield was going out with the remaining lead singer dude, and scored a bunch of vocal spots on the album because of it.
3. That guy did tons of drugs.

I had just moved from Miami where I had spent the previous three or four years attending any punk, hardcore or rock show I was allowed to.  I owned way too many over-sized t-shirts for Krishna and straightedge bands, and an equal number of ill-fitting army fatigues.  I preferred safety to danger, structure to chaos and life to death.  Drugs scared the shit out of me.  They still do.  It might have been my first awareness of a musician I loved being an addict.  I dare say it was even before the grunge thing had turned so scarily dark.  Andy Wood of Mother Love Bone had died, but he was never that pivotal artist for me... And it was still a few years before Kurt would pass, and eventually Layne.  And anyway, those dudes were all the frickin' way over in Seattle.  We were in Boston, and this guy Evan was making truly great music right down the way, you know?  I remember that being an exciting time, like there was something happening and we were living through it.  For as many bands as I saw in Boston over the years I spent there, I never saw the Lemonheads.  We were all too young to get in to those shows when Ray was out.  We could see all ages shows at churches or Food Not Bombs rallies, but all the venues on Lansdowne St. were off limits.  Even the Middle East and T.T.'s were a toss up.  It all depended on the show.  But, you could guarantee that you were too young to get into shows where the principle song subject was getting fucked up.  So, I missed it.

I've been away from Boston for a while now, but have followed Evan's story here and there.  It's quite a story.  I don't need to tell it here, because it isn't mine to tell, but along the way he has made some incredible music.  He's also had some pretty ideal band mates in that catch-all band of his, not the least of which were Karl Alvarez and Bill Stevenson from my favorite band, the Descendents.  That line-up toured together about five years ago, and I cannot believe I missed it.  Sigh.  The tours are legendary for the dramas that occur, and so I wasn't sure what to expect last night.  This tour is supposed to be the celebration of the twentieth anniversary of Ray.  They've been advertising that the band will play the album in its entirety.  That almost happened.  Almost, but not quite.

I was the girl who got to the show before doors even opened last night.  After waiting for twenty years to hear these damn songs live, I was eager to be somewhere good during the set.  I had two hopes for the night: that Dando would show up, and that he would play 'Rudderless', my favorite song he ever did.  Seeing as how he's the front man for the band, and that song is on the album in question, one might presume that these were givens... And that person would be foolish to do so.

There were two opening bands, both of which are supporting the whole tour.  They were entertaining, and excited to be a part of the show.  But, let's face it, when you're all there to hear music that you've loved for an age, you just want to hear it already.  Evan took the stage solo at about 10 pm.  He played about a half a dozen songs like that, with just a Les Paul and sounded really true, for lack of a better word.  He sounded true.  The guys joined him after that and they started to play the album.  It kicked ass for all of two songs.  Two.  Then Evan claimed that he was losing his voice and couldn't play over all the noise of the band.  The next two songs were supposed to be the title track (and biggest hit of his catalog) and my song.  He capo'd up for 'Ray' so that he could sing it lower, and played it like it was just some song.  I suppose it is.  He started to play 'Rudderless' and then decided not to, for fear that he couldn't sing it.  My little gay heart cracked a bit, but I was committed to just letting the experience be what it was going to be.  After all, he'd shown up, hadn't he?

All told, he played for an hour and forty minutes.  That's a really long show.  People like Prince play sets like that.  Throughout the course of the night the band rejoined him for about six more songs and then let him finish alone.  He played most of the album that he was supposed to be honoring and just a whole lot of other music, some of which was his and some of which wasn't.  It wasn't all amazing, but a lot of it was, and it all went through me.  It left me with a lot to think about today.  Aside from the performance, here was an artist who played to an audience like we were all just hanging out in his living room.  He was oddly conversational and interested in what we all wanted to hear.  He accommodated what he could, and apologized for what he couldn't.  Yes, he was struggling with his voice, but he hung in there, and his guitar playing was great.  He remembered the words to roughly thirty-five songs, and I know that he didn't anticipate playing some of them.  Even before he went on stage, he was out in the room all night.  He watched both of the opening bands from the audience and was actively happy and engaged with what they were doing.  Who's like that anymore?

I have no idea what goes on with Evan Dando.  I don't know if he's still married, divorced, on drugs, sober, happy, murderous, Satanic or Baptist.  And I'm not sure I care.  The dude's a fellow traveler.  He wears Converse just like the rest of us, and is doing his thing, which happens to be writing really incredible pop songs.  I've learned a lot from him in this last twenty years on my own journey of trying to be a good musician who is, at the end of the day, true.  And, I continued to learn last night.  Even when it wasn't going well for him, he played through.  He smiled at the ground and swore aloud.  His beautiful chord progressions had the occasional "FUCK!" layered over them, and it was perfect.  It was exactly as it should have been.

And, the very last song he played was 'Rudderless'.
Thanks, Evan.

And thank you for listening,
buick audra

This isn't from last night, but it's lovely and you need to see it.