Saw Elvis Costello last night at the Warfield. Probably the tenth time I've seen him play live. $270.00 (I sprang for tix for three) later, I'm not so sure it was worth it. I'm not really sure it woulda been worth $27, actually.
The setup was gawdawful -- what my friend Heretic called "fucking cruise-ship dinner seating". All tables, all seated. Room for about four rows of people standing in the front. Which means, I'm sure, that the venue sold lots more food and beer. And which also means that people were acting like they were at a dinner party, not a rock show.
We got there semi-early, following the usual Warfield strategy: get there around the time the doors open, grab a table, have bar food for dinner during the long wait, then sit or stand depending on the band, later. This time -- no long wait, everybody's sitting. Whoops.
So. Bad sign #1 was the all-seated, all sideways setup. Median age was maybe 45. Not a concert-going crowd. About three songs into the first set (Elvis and the Impostors did the thing where they "open" for themselves -- playing one full set, then coming back for another) three people get ushered to our table, chatting merrily. They sit. They keep talking. The get settled. They KEEP talking. I turn to them and say "hey, did you notice there's music playing over there? it's really cool -- you should listen to it". Which at least stuns them to an indignant murmur for a bit.
When the murmur doesn't subside, I get up and walk down to join the meager crowd standing up front. There's nothing but space by the stage -- I'm a few feet away from Elvis, and starting to enjoy myself. Or trying. The thing is, it looks like he's trying too. I know you've seen a performer and an audience really feed off each other -- that energy loop that just keeps building. This more like an lighter that just won't flame. He's singing, he's making eye contact with the standers, they're dancing and nodding and clapping. But mostly the poor bastard is playing to a chatting, munching, drinking dinner party. And it's just not the same. The energy level never rises, the songs are adequate but not inspired, and it's cool, but I can't help remembering past shows, where even in the upper upper balcony, I felt just bodily grabbed and lifted by the force and passion and energy of the band. Tonight, the songs are the same. The feeling is gone.
....
Other moments:
Security to kid blowing massive clouds of pot smoke: "Is that a joint?"
Kid: "uh...."
Security: "It's okay. As long as it's not tobacco."
....
Guy to Nattering Assholes behind him: "Can you please shut the fuck up?"
Nattering Assholes (leaning into his face): "No. What are you going to do about it?"
(That one ended 15 minutes later with Guy shoving one of the N.A.s in the chest, after they continued to harass him. And of course you know who got eighty-sixed.)
....
I found W and Rob again for the final encore, and we left together. Hoping the disappointment had been all my own, I volunteered something like "the crowd sucked, but Elvis was good."
Rob shook his head in disgust. "They completely phoned it in. I felt like I was in Vegas."
....
Damn.
Posted by Liz at May 4, 2007 11:13 AM