All Aboard The Guilty Pleasure Express
This past spring, my wife and I stopped in Vegas for a couple of nights on the way home from Phoenix. We'd had a lovely visit with friends, but looked forward to a couple of "cutting loose" evenings at the Hard Rock Hotel. After a day by the pool sipping on $10 beers in cute little tiki cups, we showered and changed for a wild night out to see........
Train.
Yeah, I know. Not exactly what you might expect on this site after reading escapades of violence at Iron Maiden shows and Ozzfest shenanigans, but it was all that was really happening as far as rock and roll during our stay. We saw Chicago (the band) the night before at the MGM and they were actually pretty good, but I went mainly for my wife. This night, we'd see Train at a club inside the fairly new Palms Casino. The Palms is apparently the new hot spot for the young and beautiful to hang out and be seen. For instance, Huntington and Hart, the tattoo parlor featured in the reality show Inked can be found on the premises. It's a great casino; we didn't play there, but while waiting for the show to begin, we wandered around a bit and made plans to come back on our next trip through.
Add the fact that I was hit on twice at the bar while getting a couple of beers as Mary held our place in line. Either this 39 year old is holding up pretty well or those girls were pretty drunk. But who cares? Made me feel alright.
The show was held in a small venue that normally serves as a dance club. There was no opening act, which was fine with me. We did our usual routine of scouting out a good vantage point as this was a general admission standing room only show. Then we made some small talk with a couple that was from Vegas. The woman was a little tipsy and the husband was stone sober, which found him easily annoyed. They were very nice though, and we were relieved to be talking to "normal" people instead of a couple from the myriad of air-heads bumping into each other on the packed dance floor.
I had mediocre expectations of Train, so I figured I would be entertained enough to enjoy the show and not be too snarky. I've grown up quite a bit when it comes to criticizing acts based on my own merit system of qualifications of cool. In the past, I would sneer and poke fun at fans of pop or country, rap or whatever, turning up my nose while reveling in my own sense of lowbrow nobility. I don't know when I changed, but I'm glad I did. Even if I don't like something, I can appreciate the fact that someone does. Especially if they're into it.
The band came on and blazed through radio hits and fan favorites like Meet Virginia and Drops Of Jupiter. I was surprised at the musicianship I witnessed, even in songs I'd heard hundreds of times and deemed simple pop hits. Each player was engaged in the tunes and I enjoyed watching the interplay between them. Train fans know all the words to the songs. They smile wide and sway back and forth to the melodies. In time, I was doing the same. I had a dumb smile on my face until they blew my mind.
The familiar mandolin opening of Led Zeppelin's Going To California started and I looked over at Mary with my mouth wide open like Buckwheat from the Little Rascals. Not only did they play it, they nailed it. I was already impressed by the performance so far and at this point, Train had solidified some credibility with me. A few more originals later, they played Zep's What Is And What Should Never Be. Later, they pulled out Gallows Pole. I started wondering if it was Robert Plant's birthday or something. I also began to think that Train should do an all Zeppelin set sometime and release it officially.
Mary was making some small talk with a huge bouncer who was originally from Nigeria. This guy had arms the size of my waist, but was super nice. Mary pointed over to stage right and asked what the little area cordonned off was. He replied that it was a V.I.P. area and you needed a pass. He shrugged as if to say that he wished he could help us out, but then leaned in to Mary and said, "I can get you up front if you'd like". She checked in with me and I told her to go for it. She took our new lady friend by the hand and off they went. The husband and I raised our eyebrows and laughed as we watched people make way for our wives escorted by the bouncer we nicknamed Green Mile.
Mary and the wife stayed up front at the rail for a couple of songs, then returned to the husband and I. The bouncer had returned to his post near us after doing some rounds and I gave Mary a ten to tip him. She went over and discreetly put the folded bill in his hand. He thanked her and waved me and the other couple over. "How'd you fine folks like to see the show from the V.I.P. area?", he asked. We all nodded, smiling stupidly. He whisked us off into an oasis of sorts, away from the crush of youthful fans and into a lush bar with plenty of elbow room. It was seated directly to the side of the stage and we were no more that 5 feet from the performers. I was also relieved that the sound was still great at that angle. So we watched the rest of the show like big shots.
We left with a new appreciation of this band. Now I began to think that maybe I've overlooked other pop bands, pidgeon-holing them into the category of "shiny, overproduced, pablum for the masses". Train might be still just that, but I've been shown the other side by catching the live experience. They are a fine rock and roll band who are not ashamed of their pop sensibilities. We even purchased the entire Train catalog on CD (not all at once--we're not insane) and I actually listen voluntarily. I've sung She's On Fire in the shower more than once.
My name's Tony. Hi Tony. And...um....I'm a Train fan.
This recollection came to mind as I purchased tickets to see Train tomorrow night (10.06.06) at the Big Fresno Fair. My wife and I were on the fence, but started remembering how good the show in Vegas was and decided to go. I'll most likely see the Black Crowes' performance next week (10.11.06) at the Fair as well. On a "six degrees" note, Train bassist Johnny Colt was the original bass player for the Black Crowes.
Train.
Yeah, I know. Not exactly what you might expect on this site after reading escapades of violence at Iron Maiden shows and Ozzfest shenanigans, but it was all that was really happening as far as rock and roll during our stay. We saw Chicago (the band) the night before at the MGM and they were actually pretty good, but I went mainly for my wife. This night, we'd see Train at a club inside the fairly new Palms Casino. The Palms is apparently the new hot spot for the young and beautiful to hang out and be seen. For instance, Huntington and Hart, the tattoo parlor featured in the reality show Inked can be found on the premises. It's a great casino; we didn't play there, but while waiting for the show to begin, we wandered around a bit and made plans to come back on our next trip through.
Add the fact that I was hit on twice at the bar while getting a couple of beers as Mary held our place in line. Either this 39 year old is holding up pretty well or those girls were pretty drunk. But who cares? Made me feel alright.
The show was held in a small venue that normally serves as a dance club. There was no opening act, which was fine with me. We did our usual routine of scouting out a good vantage point as this was a general admission standing room only show. Then we made some small talk with a couple that was from Vegas. The woman was a little tipsy and the husband was stone sober, which found him easily annoyed. They were very nice though, and we were relieved to be talking to "normal" people instead of a couple from the myriad of air-heads bumping into each other on the packed dance floor.
I had mediocre expectations of Train, so I figured I would be entertained enough to enjoy the show and not be too snarky. I've grown up quite a bit when it comes to criticizing acts based on my own merit system of qualifications of cool. In the past, I would sneer and poke fun at fans of pop or country, rap or whatever, turning up my nose while reveling in my own sense of lowbrow nobility. I don't know when I changed, but I'm glad I did. Even if I don't like something, I can appreciate the fact that someone does. Especially if they're into it.
The band came on and blazed through radio hits and fan favorites like Meet Virginia and Drops Of Jupiter. I was surprised at the musicianship I witnessed, even in songs I'd heard hundreds of times and deemed simple pop hits. Each player was engaged in the tunes and I enjoyed watching the interplay between them. Train fans know all the words to the songs. They smile wide and sway back and forth to the melodies. In time, I was doing the same. I had a dumb smile on my face until they blew my mind.
The familiar mandolin opening of Led Zeppelin's Going To California started and I looked over at Mary with my mouth wide open like Buckwheat from the Little Rascals. Not only did they play it, they nailed it. I was already impressed by the performance so far and at this point, Train had solidified some credibility with me. A few more originals later, they played Zep's What Is And What Should Never Be. Later, they pulled out Gallows Pole. I started wondering if it was Robert Plant's birthday or something. I also began to think that Train should do an all Zeppelin set sometime and release it officially.
Mary was making some small talk with a huge bouncer who was originally from Nigeria. This guy had arms the size of my waist, but was super nice. Mary pointed over to stage right and asked what the little area cordonned off was. He replied that it was a V.I.P. area and you needed a pass. He shrugged as if to say that he wished he could help us out, but then leaned in to Mary and said, "I can get you up front if you'd like". She checked in with me and I told her to go for it. She took our new lady friend by the hand and off they went. The husband and I raised our eyebrows and laughed as we watched people make way for our wives escorted by the bouncer we nicknamed Green Mile.
Mary and the wife stayed up front at the rail for a couple of songs, then returned to the husband and I. The bouncer had returned to his post near us after doing some rounds and I gave Mary a ten to tip him. She went over and discreetly put the folded bill in his hand. He thanked her and waved me and the other couple over. "How'd you fine folks like to see the show from the V.I.P. area?", he asked. We all nodded, smiling stupidly. He whisked us off into an oasis of sorts, away from the crush of youthful fans and into a lush bar with plenty of elbow room. It was seated directly to the side of the stage and we were no more that 5 feet from the performers. I was also relieved that the sound was still great at that angle. So we watched the rest of the show like big shots.
We left with a new appreciation of this band. Now I began to think that maybe I've overlooked other pop bands, pidgeon-holing them into the category of "shiny, overproduced, pablum for the masses". Train might be still just that, but I've been shown the other side by catching the live experience. They are a fine rock and roll band who are not ashamed of their pop sensibilities. We even purchased the entire Train catalog on CD (not all at once--we're not insane) and I actually listen voluntarily. I've sung She's On Fire in the shower more than once.
My name's Tony. Hi Tony. And...um....I'm a Train fan.
This recollection came to mind as I purchased tickets to see Train tomorrow night (10.06.06) at the Big Fresno Fair. My wife and I were on the fence, but started remembering how good the show in Vegas was and decided to go. I'll most likely see the Black Crowes' performance next week (10.11.06) at the Fair as well. On a "six degrees" note, Train bassist Johnny Colt was the original bass player for the Black Crowes.
posted by Tony at 12:49 PM
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