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Debbie and I went up to the Ram's Head Live in Baltimore last night to see Adam Duritz of Counting Crows play a benefit acoustic set. I won the tickets on 94.7 The Globe Classic Rock radio station a couple of weeks ago. I called and identified the name of the movie Oh Brother Where Art Thou ("What was the name of the movie starring George Clooney that had a bluegrass soundtrack produced by T-Bone Burnett?"). Yeah for Weazel.
The performance was awesome. The venue was so-so. And the crowd sucked.
The highlights:
- The show was a benefit for the Johns' Hopkins' Pediatric Epilepsy program. It was totally organized by some 40-somethings whose daughter was treated there after having some pretty scary seizures. The Harris' are doing good stuff, and raised $260,000 around the event. Check out The CarsonHarris Foundation for what they are doing.
- The concert was fabulous (what i could see/hear - more on that in the lowlights section of this post). It was Duritz and two former roommates - members of the band Lonestar - on acoustic guitar. They come out, with a wheelie Coleman cooler of beer, plunk down on the stage and proceed to play some very innovative versions of lots of Counting Crows songs, and quite a number of covers. They had planned a great somewhat Baltimore-themed set.
- Adam played a song from pre-CC days that he hasn't performed since 1989. It was from a band called The Himalayans, and the song was called "Save My Life." It was fun to hear.
- Sloppy drunk is never pretty. For the first half of the show we stood (there is no seating at Ram's Head) in the balcony. During the warm-up we staked out a place with a view. But the shit-faced couple to our right were so blotto that they morphed from taking about 4 feet of space to taking (to quote Debbie), "the space of five people" at the railing. Needless to say, for a short girl like me, that pretty much meant no seeing Adam. And then there was the stumbling, and American Idol-like performance by the guy, throughout the set, augmented by constant groping and making out. The spilling of a drink on the woman next to them was a nice touch. Did I mention he had a wedding ring and she did not. Jeez - take it somewhere else where you can drain the mini bar and perform your rendition of "Rain King" in private.
- So, we go downstairs to SEE and HEAR the show. Why do
people go to concerts in small, intimate venues, and then stand around talking throughout the show? Between the well-meaning, big swinging dick investment bankers who were sponsors, the "VIPs," and the partiers in the back, there was a constant drone of chatter during the show. Show some respect people. Go to a freakin' bar if you want to talk the whole time.
