Had the pleasure of hearing a true folk legend and an icon of perhaps what used to be this past Saturday. Had mixed feelings about attending another ‘legends’ show being hugely disappointed in Dan Hicks and his Mail-it-in Licks. But, in the midst of the hoopla surrounding Woodstock 40 years gone and what this might mean to me, the interviews with Havens were always brisk, coherent (Slick, Crosby, Kornfield . . . take note!), and humorous. So, I went.
First, the venue -- Sanctuary Concerts (sanctuaryconcerts.org) are held, by and large, at a wonderful church in Chatham, NJ. They have been bounced around a bit, but have settled in nicely here. The evenings are down home (donated baked goods, coffee and tea at the breaks), comfortable and well staffed by volunteers who respect both the music and the site.
Richie’s guitarist Walter Parks, a worthy talent in his own right, opened and did a kind of dreamy, almost ethereal half hour of tunes. A guitarist’s guitarist to be sure, he had chops but the set lacked focus and could have been a touch livelier. We were all still in late stage tryptophan withdrawal. Parks has some swamp/roots/boogie leanings and more of that would have been on point. That or Mr. Coffee’s at the head of each pew. His band Swamp Cabbage is worth checking out.
Havens set was a pure delight. As close to magical as I am willing to concede. Opened with All Along the Watchtower and that was preceded by a wonderful shaggy dog story of a first meeting with Mr. Zimmerman as well as his difficulty committing the lyrics to memory. Havens called it “100 different movies”. Some originals from the new disc (the eerily titled “No One Left to Crown”) and beyond were handled superbly. It was here that Parks genius was the most disarming, backing up the Havens open tuning chord forms with non-stop fills, trills and accents.
Watching Havens mix story and song, both audience and performer being well aware of who had who, was like hearing old family stories recounted after a robustly satisfying meal. Heard a few before? Sure enough, but I would go back tonight for a second helping. The Village folk scene, Van Ronk, Odetta, Seeger, stickball in Brooklyn and even the Man of Steel were all on the menu. Havens led the audience through the Superman opening: “Look, up in the sky . . .” riffed on the disengagement going from DC to TV versions of Superman (“Why wasn’t his hair blue?”) and the not so apparently flawed “Truth, Justice, and the American Way.” (Shouldn’t the third principle be already self-contained in the first two?) Richie smiled slyly, letting that incongruous fact sink in.
Huge time pay off with the encore. After finishing the set with a little ditty entitled “Freedom” (he might find a niche with this one), followed by a big time karate kick (dude is close to 70, no?) Richie launched into a medley of Maggie’s Farm and Won’t Get Fooled Again. Emotionally charged, thematically similar, doing exactly what an encore is supposed to do they were both well played, lifting the crowd up in more ways than one.
Would you wait almost an hour to get a CD signed? We did (Christmas gifts) and had a wonderful visit with a legend in his own time. (Everyone signs CD’s right? Only mine says “friends forever” . . . I was totally blissed.) Havens had spoke of the New York City Board of Ed owing him perhaps thousands in confiscated comics over the years, I laughingly told him I would do what I could with my current employer, offering him 10 cents on the dollar, for now. He laughed long and loud at the prospect. We took a picture and off into the night.
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