everybody cut, everybody cut
Enter the Danger Zone
Who we go see in concert says a lot about us.
If we’re constantly hanging out at vibrant venues like Doug Fir or The Woods to catch the latest greatest thing since the one that played there last week, it means we still have a pulse. We still care about unearthing some sliver of new inspiration.
If we prefer catching more established acts at the Roseland or Crystal, it means we still care, but just like finding a favorite brand of beer, we’ve settled. We like the comfort of familiar tunes with just enough edge to justify our tossled hair and second-hand clothes.
But what about willingly shelling out money to go see some relic of the late 70s-early 80s who looks like he’s been botoxed six ways to Sunday and has taken to penning New Age-y odes to the rain forest?
Well, that? That’s just awesome.
Kenny Loggins, one of the founding fathers of the yahct rock movement—the man behind totems of soft rock like "This Is It" and "What A Fool Believes", hits town tonight at the Schnitz and my inner child (the chubby one with a rat tail and bolo tie) is giddy. This guy soundtracked every iconic movie of our childhood: Caddyshack. Footloose. Top Gun. Over the Top. (You remember that one, right? Stallone as the semi-driving arm wrestler fighting for the love of his estranged son? No? Anybody?)
I’m not sure what this says about me besides the fact that i’m slipping. My ears have have gotten soft and flabby around the mid-section and that no amount of forearm tattoos can make up for this. Or maybe it just says that I’m comfortable in my own tastes. I stand firm and proud as a fan of the breezy grooves of yacht rock.
You’re right. It’s probably the former.
Anywho… Feather your hair, unbutton that top button, and let your chest fur fly. But first witness the majesty of the man below. The one standing in front of a rainbow in his bathrobe holding a scented candle:
More Monsters, please
And just to convince myself (I’ve given up trying to impress you) that I might actually still be cool, here’s a clip from my current favorite album, the Monsters of Folk’s self-titled debut. I would still like to kick the publicist who stiffed me on tickets when they played here recently in the shin. Great song. Great album. And garden gnomes!