Method of Modern Loving the Lord

Saw Hall & Oates last night at the Beacon, a really nice place for musicians to die. The show was actually great, and the backup band was tight -- the groove they laid down made me feel like I was floating over a field of happily flaccid dicks. But H&O also gave the backups room to shine: the sax guy, "Mr. Casual" -- big like Clarence Clemons, white like that guy who played the Area 51 scientist in Independence Day, old-school-purple-suited like a 1960s version of Prince -- spent as much time near the edge of the stage as the guitarist, a relaxed shredder who took every solo, leaving Oates with around 14 seconds of legit tearing-it-up time. The percussionist, who never stopped gyrating the whole show, was allowed to belt out Hall-shaming harmonies on "I Can't Go for That"; if a song was ever written about him, it would contain the line "He played his bongos with his tambourine". Also, at one point Hall tried to convince the audience to watch his New Year's show on TBS by saying "instead of watching the ball drop, you can watch my balls drop." Oates said "I'd like to be there for that." Really, he did.


The set list was all-hit, with only one post-'82 song ("Say it Isn't So", from Big Bam Boom, a smash album I distinctly remember a Dallas Times Herald critic arguing would end up being totally forgotten -- he was right, though the Times Herald suffered the same fate). Except: for their second encore, they played three Christmas songs: a version of "A Midnight Clear" that apparently contained some "obscure" verses, a number written by Robbie Robertson with the refrain "son of a carpenter..." (not nearly as catchy as "Private Eyes", the song everyone assumed they'd end on, since they hadn't played it, and they couldn't possibly finish up with another Xmas tune?), and the finale, "Jingle Bell Rock", which they've actually been doing at least since they recorded that goofy-ass video for it in the early 80s.

The random psychopath sitting next to us had literally said nothing but  "This is great, this is great, this is great" all night. He said it again, in triplicate, then left during the first Xmas number. My friend Brian, who was good enough to have gotten the tickets, said "I was expecting around 20% less Jesus".


And here's why I wasn't (explanation after the impressive picture gallery):

That was from two days before. I was walking through the East Village listening to the new LCD Soundsystem and successfully convincing myself I was post-ironic when I ran into a friend-of-a-friend. Then someone who turned out to be a close relative of an actress you've heard of walked up to us on the sidewalk and said "Hey, can I show you something?" The friend-of-a-friend quickly introduced me to the new guy, then said "I gotta run" and literally bolted, like he knew what was coming. The new guy proceeded to tell me the entire story of Jesus via this holy-rolling Rubix Cube.


So yeah, lately, I've been expecting 20% more Jesus.