Okay, Jeff, here’s my review of the Dwight Yoakam concert (Red Bluff, 9/21/06). I originally wrote it for the Dwight Yoakam message board, which is called the Lonesome Roads Hotel, or LRH. All right, all right, go ahead and pelt me with jokes about THAT – I can take it.
I realized as I watched the three-ring circus swirling before me that if I had to choose one word to summarize this show, it would be
DISTRACTIONS.
The show was to start at 7:30, so my friend Richard and I hurried to the fairgrounds to get a good seat. We sat fourth row back in the grandstand, dead center. The weather couldn’t have been more perfect at 6:30 (by 7:30 I was revising my assessment).
The first distraction was the audience. I grew up in the area, but I’ve rarely seen such a collection of characters. I had made a small paper sign that read LRH in huge black letters, to try to meet up with two women I’ve talked to on the Dwight Yoakam message board, Theresa and Susie. As the grandstands filled up I stood up and held up my sign for all to see. Blank stares. No LRH-ers around. Lots of curious folk, though. Instantly people were yelling, "What's LRH?"
I yelled back, "It stands for Lonesome Roads Hotel, and it's part of Dwight's web site. I'm looking for people who I know from there."
"You mean you met them ON-LINE?" one woman yelled back, looking skeptical. Okay, now I felt like a jerk. "Yeah," I answered, and sat down. Richard was laughing at me. "Stick with me, Richard, and you'll meet the weirdest people and look like the biggest fool," I told him. "Yeah, I know," he laughed.
An example of my ability to attract a freak show: before we even got to the grandstand I had an encounter with a very nice but very unusual guy while in line for a beer. He and his friend had just bought drinks, and while we waited, the man started talking to me. He looked homeless and smelled like the bottom of an ashtray. He said he was running for mayor of his town. He couldn't have been nicer, very friendly. Then he took a taste of his drink, and said, "Hey, this is good! Wanna taste?" Man, I didn't.
"No, thank you,' I said.
"No, it's really good, you gotta try it!" he said, handing it to me.
"No, really, thank you -- I don't care for rum," I said. He tried twice more to make me drink it. I think he was being friendly, but there was no way I was gonna drink from his straw.
Back inside the venue now – the next time I stood up with my LRH sign, an older man asked what I was doing. Everyone was looking at me, and I suddenly felt three years old. I tossed out a quick answer.
"I'm trying to meet somebody," I said, then instantly regretted it. The whole group of people behind me roared with laughter. There I was, standing on the seat holding a sign, with about 20 people laughing at me. Richard just looked straight ahead and wouldn't turn around, but he was laughing, too. "No no no! I mean, MEET UP WITH someone!" but it was too late.
So I sort of gave up on the sign. After that I was afraid to meet Theresa and Susie, in case they were plucked from the same shallow gene pool as the people in my section. I was pretty sure the girls were down among the arena crowd, anyway.
The second distraction was the opening act, Corinne West and The Posse, a local group. They were quite good, but they didn’t have enough energy to sway the crowd, who were well into their third beers by then.
The third distraction was the wind, which whipped up during the warm-up band and kept my hair firmly planted in front of my eyes. Because the concert was held at the outdoor arena where the world-famous Red Bluff Roundup rodeo happens, there’s a bed of soft dry dirt under the stage and the pricey seats, and things quickly degenerated into a Sahara dust storm. The funny thing is, all summer I was dreading sitting in 95 degree heat before the show started, sweating, with no breeze and lots of flies. Joke was on me! At least, no flies on ME. There were some people near me who I'm pretty sure brought their OWN flies.
The road crew were busy fussing with equipment on stage for quite a while, and I kept thinking, “Any minute the band will be out.” And then Dwight’s tour bus pulled up. It was quite a show watching the huge bus maneuver the arena gates to get behind the stage, and we realized it would still be a while before DY hit the stage.
Finally, a few minutes after nine o’clock, out came the band. Richard was betting that the delay was because Dwight was getting his hat superglued to his head for the show, but he lost that bet during “Together Again,” when the wind sent Dwight’s cowboy hat zinging across the stage. Dwight took it with good humor, though I couldn’t understand what he said because the audio was so poor. That, the sound, was the FOURTH distraction. I don’t know if Dwight was upset about the sound, because I didn’t see any real crankiness (he is known for getting cranky about bad sound during shows), but then we were way back in the bleachers. I do know I could barely understand the vocals, and spoken words were almost completely lost to me. There was wind noise in the mics, and feedback a few times, but if DY was upset I couldn’t see it.
The hat came off AGAIN during “Streets Of Bakersfield.” I think he made the audience promise to give it back to him should it fly off again, or he'd have to leave to go get another hat! At least, I think that's what he said. Anyway, if you have seen Dwight Yoakam, you know how much a part of his image his hat plays, and he’s rarely seen without it, probably because of a Male Pattern Baldness issue.
I have never seen so much stage activity at a concert on the part of a road crew. They were constantly handing off guitars for both Dwight and Eddie Perez, the lead guitarist. Oh, Eddie – I felt sorriest for him because, although he didn’t have a hat to lose, his hair is as long as mine, and I couldn’t see the paper in front of me for the whipping hair when I had to jot down a note. How Eddie ever played his guitar in such conditions is beyond me.
If I sound like I’m complaining I’m really not -- the guys were real troupers and the music was wonderful. The audience around us were very into the music, especially the drunk trio in front of us who tried to incite the crowd to chant “DOO-WIGHT! DOO-WIGHT!” They tried many times, but the people around us were unimpressed. “Dude, it’s DWIGHT! Not DOO-WIGHT!” someone yelled. Like I said, a distraction. Who could help but watch this little drama unfolding?
Also, I saw my first Dirty Cowboy Dancing that night. I looked for Patrick Swayze but he was nowhere in sight. There was an older guy really grinding on his swing partner, though.
The fifth distraction was the bus, of all things. For some reason I couldn’t imagine at the time it kept repositioning itself during the concert. When something that large is moving you can’t help but look at it. Will it hit that other car? Oooo, that was close. I found out later that Dwight was directing his crew to move the bus to make a wind break. They also stacked crates up on the north edge of the stage for the same reason.
I wanted to go down to the arena level when the Key Club kids left their gate posts, but the dust clouds were so bad down there that I knew I’d be asthmatic if I tried it. We could see the dust swirling in the spotlights like snow. Bleacher seats were the best. So we stayed put.
The encore, usually two songs, was cut to one. Dwight made it clear that “GOOD NIGHT” meant “WE AREN’T COMING BACK OUT FOR NOTHING, NO WAY, NO HOW,” and no one blamed him. I felt bad for the band, who were five lonely entertainers out there. There seemed to be no interaction between them on account of the wind, and they seemed kind of grim, like, “let’s just get through this and on to Oregon.”
If I could tell the band anything, I’d thank them for a wonderful evening of music, and for very professional and polished performances in the worst possible circumstances. They played a full 90 minutes in horrible wind, but never lost their cool. Even with all that going on I had a GREAT time, I’d go again, and I’d recommend the show to everyone. Just don’t hold up any signs.
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