Chuck Berry has had enough of people’s concern since he appeared to collapse onto a keyboard and couldn’t continue his Jan.1 show at Chicago’s Congress Theater.
“I just got a call from Pine Bluff, Ark.: ‘How do you feel?’” the 84-year-old rock ‘n’ roll pioneer recounted last week in a rare interview in the tiny backstage dressing room at Blueberry Hill, the St. Louis club where he has performed monthly since 1996. “I’ve been asked, oh, I guess, 600 times. Well, come on, that can get monotonous, you know.”
So what does he say to them?
“I want to say, ‘I feel like kicking butt,’” Berry said with a smile. “But I don’t. I say I’m OK. I just left the stage because I had to go somewhere. I turn it into a joke. Anybody that eats food does that.”
Well, regardless of whether the Berry health scare really was just a matter of his needing a bathroom break rather than suffering from exhaustion or other maladies after playing two New Year’s Eve shows in New York City, the mood in Blueberry Hill’s Duck Room was electric in anticipation of the singer-guitarist’s first stage appearance since then.
Berry said he has no intention of discontinuing these performances. “If they pay, I play,” he said, laughing while communicating his long-held ethos. But many fans felt a certain urgency to catch him now nonetheless.
Ean Christman, a blues guitarist, said he’d been saving money to see Berry eventually but decided he’d better make the drive up from Dallas this month. “When that thing happened Jan.1 in Chicago, I said I have to cash in my bottle caps,” Christman said. “There’s no more waiting.”
Nancy Elner, a nurse, flew in from Boston not even knowing whether she could get a ticket to the sold-out show. She decided to take the risk because “I don’t know how much longer he’s going to be playing.” (Someone at the bar had one spare ticket to sell.) Mike McCarthy, CEO of the St. Louis Blues hockey team, also was spurred to see Berry for the first time last Wednesday night.
“It’s on the St. Louis bucket list for sure,” he said.
“I think we’re about to see a great show tonight,” Blueberry Hill owner and Berry friend Joe Edwards said upon emerging from the dressing room. “It’s the first show of the new year. It’s the first show after Chicago. He just seems very buoyant and enthusiastic.”
As has been the case for decades, when Berry is on the road, he requires the promoter to supply a backing band for each show, and they usually hit the stage together with no rehearsal, the star not shy about expressing any displeasure. (He even feuded with one-time band leader Keith Richards for the1986 concert that became the film “Hail! Hail! Rock ‘n’ Roll.”) So it may not be surprising that Berry said that one of the problems in Chicago was his trio of hired guns.
“The band was bad,” he said. “The band was not in tune.” He also complained that one member didn’t know “Johnny B. Goode.”
Contacted in Chicago, pianist Vijay Tellis-Nayak said he and the drummer and bassist had been studying Berry’s set lists and rehearsing his songs together since October, but on stage there was no way they could keep up with Berry’s changing keys midsong or having his guitar out of tune. “I definitely would not say that there’s anything we could have done to salvage the situation in terms of knowing the songs better,” Tellis-Nayak said.
Berry’s St. Louis residency shows, in contrast, take place not in auditoriums that hold thousands but a basement room with a capacity of 340, and he plays with the same musicians month after month, year after year. Joining bassist Jim Marsala, keyboardist Bob Lohr and drummer Keith Robinson are two of Berry’s children: Charles Berry Jr. on guitar and Ingrid Berry Clay on harmonica and the occasional roof-raising lead vocal.
“It’s like being with the family at the Thanksgiving dinner, where everything is jovial and warm,” Clay said of being alongside her father and brother on stage.
At 10 p.m. sharp, Berry strolled onto the stage in a white captain’s hat, purple glittery shirt and slim charcoal slacks and announced, “Here we go again,” while the crowd stood and cheered. He kicked the band into a rickety version of his 1958 hit “Carol” before abruptly shifting to the lyrics of his 1956 hit “Roll Over Beethoven.”
On the subsequent “Memphis, Tennessee” and “School Day” he established a pattern of singing behind the beat yet still in rhythm, all while he banged out jagged, sometimes dissonant counterparts on his hollow-body Gibson, sometimes slapping the neck percussively. Yet just when you’d think the song was about to break down, it might kick into high gear, as if Berry had preserved his vigor for youthful shouts of “Hail, hail, rock ‘n’ roll!” and “Rock! Rock! Rock ‘n’ roll!”
Someone in the audience muttered that the show was like a roller coaster ride. A tightrope walk also might be an apt metaphor, or perhaps a loose-wheeled wagon whipping around a winding mountain road with no guardrails.
Berry’s memory and hearing aren’t what they used to be; backstage he acknowledged that he forgets lyrics, and he said, “Being in front of those amps for 50 years, my hearing is beginning to wiggle.”
His guitar strayed out of key and out of tune, and sometimes he got lost amid his poetically pile-driving lyrics.
But unlike when he was touring alone and playing with strangers, here he had a support team that could pull him back from the cliff. So when he faltered singing B.B. King’s blues song “Rock Me Baby,” Clay stepped up to deliver a ferocious purr to the sensuous lyrics, prompting her beaming father to pronounce, “Ain’t it good to have a daughter to help her old man out?”
And when Berry was clicking and his band could go full tilt, the results were thrilling, as on a blazing “Let It Rock,” and a finale of “Johnny B. Goode” that ended with about15 women from the audience dancing on either side of him.
When an audience member requested “Maybellene,” his rambunctious1955 single that kick-started his career and perhaps the entire genre of guitar-driven rock, Berry quipped, “You’re calling all these fast ones to see if I can still cut the mustard.”
He played it anyway, not at the original’s breakneck speed, but, hey, the guy is 84 years old. (Earlier, after telling the crowd his age, he launched into his most juvenile hit, “My Ding-A-Ling.”) He even crouched into position to do his trademark duck walk before standing back up and announcing, “I don’t want to fall, y’all!”
That line got a big laugh, yet during “Johnny B. Goode” he did duck-walk across the stage, prompting McCarthy in his seat to proclaim, “Holy (moly)! I can’t believe I just saw that! That’s royalty.”
“Is everybody happy?” Berry called out at the end of his hourlong set, and as loud and enthusiastic as the crowd’s response was, his own face indicated he was right there with them.
He really did feel like kicking butt after all.
Showing posts with label Chicago. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chicago. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Monday, January 24, 2011
Chicago Blackhawks: John Scott's Rock 'Em, Sock 'Em Routine Won't Produce Wins
A little over halfway into Sunday's game between the Chicago Blackhawks and the Philadelphia Flyers, something came to mind that reminded me of a popular toy of by-gone days.
Last Christmas, I bought my son a Rock 'Em, Sock 'Em Robots game (yes, they still make 'em). As we were putting it together, he asked me why he couldn't take the red and blue pugilistic warriors out of the ring and have them go into battle with his action figures and such.
"Because they just fight each other," I explained. "The blue robot just fights the red robot in front of it until one knocks the other one's block off."
In July, Chicago Blackhawks GM Stan Bowman got himself a red robot. His name is John Scott.
And it's becoming evident that this pick up has been a mistake.
John Scott has not produced in a way that has added anything to the Blackhawks this season. This isn't personal. I think he's been a stand up guy as far as recognizing what his role is in the NHL. The trouble is that the role he plays is a dying breed in the league and will continue to be unless the NHL ever rescinds the instigator rule.
Scott signed a two-year contract with the Hawks this summer. The organization brought the former member of the Minnesota Wild to Chicago under three assumptions:
1. We needed an enforcer.
2. John Scott was an enforcer.
3. John Scott was a defenseman.
So far none of those assumptions have proved to hold water.
It didn't take long to realize that Scott was not worthy of minutes at defense, as he has enough problems skating forward. The trouble has been compounded by thinking Scott could get on the ice as a wing. After all, he was an enforcer, and we needed an enforcer.
The problem is (and Sunday's contest is a clear example of this) that John Scott is not an enforcer. He is a fighter.
I cringed when Pat Foley and Eddie Olczyk talked about making a lineup change to accommodate the Flyers, even as the present lineup was finishing off a 4-1 win in Detroit Saturday afternoon. We've been rolling four lines lately, and everyone has been making a contribution. Why make a change?
In come the Flyers. Out goes Jack Skille. In comes Scott. The Hawks neutralize the fourth line for the duration of the game. Jake Dowell and Viktor Stalberg might as well be out there by themselves.
Now comes the really frustrating part.
There were two fights in the Hawks 4-1 loss. Bryan Bickell, who played a real physical game, dropped the gloves with Scott Hartnell in the first period. Then Daniel Carcillo came out to mess with the Hawks in the second period and someone decided to scrap. That player was...Dowell.
Where was Scott? He wasn't fighting because the only guy he was going to fight was Philly's fighter, Jody Shelly. Why? Because that's what Scott has done all season long. He is only going to face off against the other team's goon.
Just like the red robot.
He doesn't keep opposing goons from coming after our skill players. That would mean roughing them up in the flow of the game, and the big man simply is not able to do this. He doesn't deter most opponents. The only guy who has to worry about going up against him is the guy paid to fight anyway.
With the instigator rule, cementheads just can't maul someone to send a message or protect a teammate. Whether you think that's for better or worse, the fact is that the rule is in place. As a result, spontaneous fighting is a rarity in the league. Picking a fight these days is like trying to negotiate a prom date.
Scott doesn't even lead the Blackhawks in fights. Dowell, the action figure in my toy analogy, leads the team with eight. If you can't skate, can't defend and don't score, you'd better contribute with your fists. None of Scott's battles this year have been anything but a diversion from the hockey game Chicago was trying to win.
I concede that Scott is pretty adept at pounding the blue robot...er...I mean, opposing team's fighter. But his battles are fought only for the sake of fighting. They don't protect teammates. The Hawks are 3-4 in games in which Scott has dropped the gloves, so they don't guarantee victories.
Meanwhile, Chicago's depth has been compromised because of the roster spot taken up by a player who does not score or prevent goals.
Again, I don't blame this debacle on Scott. He strikes me as a hardworking guy who just wants a place in the NHL. Believe me, I respect the role he plays. Players of Scott's type have short shelf lives in pro hockey, because it's a tough job.
At the same time, Skille should not be sitting out games so that Scott can dance with the same cast of fighters with little benefit to the rest of the team. Nor should anyone else. The organization is making a mistake continuing to force a square peg into a round hole.
Last Christmas, I bought my son a Rock 'Em, Sock 'Em Robots game (yes, they still make 'em). As we were putting it together, he asked me why he couldn't take the red and blue pugilistic warriors out of the ring and have them go into battle with his action figures and such.
"Because they just fight each other," I explained. "The blue robot just fights the red robot in front of it until one knocks the other one's block off."
In July, Chicago Blackhawks GM Stan Bowman got himself a red robot. His name is John Scott.
And it's becoming evident that this pick up has been a mistake.
John Scott has not produced in a way that has added anything to the Blackhawks this season. This isn't personal. I think he's been a stand up guy as far as recognizing what his role is in the NHL. The trouble is that the role he plays is a dying breed in the league and will continue to be unless the NHL ever rescinds the instigator rule.
Scott signed a two-year contract with the Hawks this summer. The organization brought the former member of the Minnesota Wild to Chicago under three assumptions:
1. We needed an enforcer.
2. John Scott was an enforcer.
3. John Scott was a defenseman.
So far none of those assumptions have proved to hold water.
It didn't take long to realize that Scott was not worthy of minutes at defense, as he has enough problems skating forward. The trouble has been compounded by thinking Scott could get on the ice as a wing. After all, he was an enforcer, and we needed an enforcer.
The problem is (and Sunday's contest is a clear example of this) that John Scott is not an enforcer. He is a fighter.
I cringed when Pat Foley and Eddie Olczyk talked about making a lineup change to accommodate the Flyers, even as the present lineup was finishing off a 4-1 win in Detroit Saturday afternoon. We've been rolling four lines lately, and everyone has been making a contribution. Why make a change?
In come the Flyers. Out goes Jack Skille. In comes Scott. The Hawks neutralize the fourth line for the duration of the game. Jake Dowell and Viktor Stalberg might as well be out there by themselves.
Now comes the really frustrating part.
There were two fights in the Hawks 4-1 loss. Bryan Bickell, who played a real physical game, dropped the gloves with Scott Hartnell in the first period. Then Daniel Carcillo came out to mess with the Hawks in the second period and someone decided to scrap. That player was...Dowell.
Where was Scott? He wasn't fighting because the only guy he was going to fight was Philly's fighter, Jody Shelly. Why? Because that's what Scott has done all season long. He is only going to face off against the other team's goon.
Just like the red robot.
He doesn't keep opposing goons from coming after our skill players. That would mean roughing them up in the flow of the game, and the big man simply is not able to do this. He doesn't deter most opponents. The only guy who has to worry about going up against him is the guy paid to fight anyway.
With the instigator rule, cementheads just can't maul someone to send a message or protect a teammate. Whether you think that's for better or worse, the fact is that the rule is in place. As a result, spontaneous fighting is a rarity in the league. Picking a fight these days is like trying to negotiate a prom date.
Scott doesn't even lead the Blackhawks in fights. Dowell, the action figure in my toy analogy, leads the team with eight. If you can't skate, can't defend and don't score, you'd better contribute with your fists. None of Scott's battles this year have been anything but a diversion from the hockey game Chicago was trying to win.
I concede that Scott is pretty adept at pounding the blue robot...er...I mean, opposing team's fighter. But his battles are fought only for the sake of fighting. They don't protect teammates. The Hawks are 3-4 in games in which Scott has dropped the gloves, so they don't guarantee victories.
Meanwhile, Chicago's depth has been compromised because of the roster spot taken up by a player who does not score or prevent goals.
Again, I don't blame this debacle on Scott. He strikes me as a hardworking guy who just wants a place in the NHL. Believe me, I respect the role he plays. Players of Scott's type have short shelf lives in pro hockey, because it's a tough job.
At the same time, Skille should not be sitting out games so that Scott can dance with the same cast of fighters with little benefit to the rest of the team. Nor should anyone else. The organization is making a mistake continuing to force a square peg into a round hole.
Jay Cutler Injury Backlash: Fans Burning His Jersey In Chicago, Twitter Lashing Out About Toughness
The way the NFC Championship Game ended could barely have been worse for Jay Cutler. His team finally got the ball moving on offense and rallied to a closer, valiant loss but only after he was forced to leave the game with injuries. That's the sort of scenario that gets fans thinking about burning Cutler's jersey.
That picture, from @brianvanarsdale, should tell us something about the reaction to Cutler's terrible day. I hope it's not the only thing we remember about Cutler's day, though — and I hope we learn something from it.
Searching for Cutler's name and "bitch" on Twitter finds a lot of people unimpressed with Cutler's toughness; searching Cutler and girl finds more folks lashing out.
This is the ugly side of football, the "ultimate man's sport": toughness is determined by people who are sitting on couches with laptops and iPads, and graded on a scale from man to woman that seems to have been codified in 1957 and untouched through the women's rights movement. And yet no one knows what's actually wrong with Cutler, or what he might have been risking by returning to the game.
We might not learn about that, either, thanks to the NFL's notoriously secretive injury culture, which guards information about maladies like state secrets, lest players be seen as less tough or valuable or teams be seen as heartless machines. Could Cutler, who reportedly left with a knee injury, have also sustained a concussion? Could his knee injury be worse than anyone knows?
We as fans tend to lionize athletes who exhibit "toughness" above and beyond their peers despite having little clue what those players go through to play. Yes, players ripped Cutler today, but the Bears have had his back, with Cutler saying he wanted to keep playing but the team wouldn't let him.
It's probably already too late for Cutler's reputation on this day; things calcify pretty quickly when Caleb Hanie plays well while you sit on the sidelines. But in the days and weeks to come, I hope that we take some time to figure out what was wrong with Jay Cutler today — and reflect on whether we were wrong to judge him as harshly or as quickly as we did.
That picture, from @brianvanarsdale, should tell us something about the reaction to Cutler's terrible day. I hope it's not the only thing we remember about Cutler's day, though — and I hope we learn something from it.
Searching for Cutler's name and "bitch" on Twitter finds a lot of people unimpressed with Cutler's toughness; searching Cutler and girl finds more folks lashing out.
This is the ugly side of football, the "ultimate man's sport": toughness is determined by people who are sitting on couches with laptops and iPads, and graded on a scale from man to woman that seems to have been codified in 1957 and untouched through the women's rights movement. And yet no one knows what's actually wrong with Cutler, or what he might have been risking by returning to the game.
We might not learn about that, either, thanks to the NFL's notoriously secretive injury culture, which guards information about maladies like state secrets, lest players be seen as less tough or valuable or teams be seen as heartless machines. Could Cutler, who reportedly left with a knee injury, have also sustained a concussion? Could his knee injury be worse than anyone knows?
We as fans tend to lionize athletes who exhibit "toughness" above and beyond their peers despite having little clue what those players go through to play. Yes, players ripped Cutler today, but the Bears have had his back, with Cutler saying he wanted to keep playing but the team wouldn't let him.
It's probably already too late for Cutler's reputation on this day; things calcify pretty quickly when Caleb Hanie plays well while you sit on the sidelines. But in the days and weeks to come, I hope that we take some time to figure out what was wrong with Jay Cutler today — and reflect on whether we were wrong to judge him as harshly or as quickly as we did.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Packers-Bears NFC Championship Fueling Chicago's Hate-O-Meter
Those famous SNL skits about Chicago sports fans are true to life: everything in the Windy City really does go back to the Chicago Bears. Last weekend in Chicago sports synergy the Chicago Blackhawks' designated national anthem singer got the call-up to Soldier Field.
This time around even the poor Charlotte Bobcats, who are owned by Chicago legend Michael Jordan, became nothing but pawns in the great NFC Championship war when they stopped by to play the Bulls
When a free throw late in the first half, attempted by a 15-24 team in a midseason basketball game, becomes Ten Seconds Hate fodder, you know your town is taking its football game seriously enough. Just be glad they didn't have to break out the Photoshop of Aaron Rodgers crushing a human face forever. Chicago has always been at war with Seattle Green Bay.
Considering this is one of the biggest games in the history of the NFL's most-storied rivalry, it's no surprise that median ticket prices were nearing quadruple digits at one point.
This time around even the poor Charlotte Bobcats, who are owned by Chicago legend Michael Jordan, became nothing but pawns in the great NFC Championship war when they stopped by to play the Bulls
When a free throw late in the first half, attempted by a 15-24 team in a midseason basketball game, becomes Ten Seconds Hate fodder, you know your town is taking its football game seriously enough. Just be glad they didn't have to break out the Photoshop of Aaron Rodgers crushing a human face forever. Chicago has always been at war with Seattle Green Bay.
Considering this is one of the biggest games in the history of the NFL's most-storied rivalry, it's no surprise that median ticket prices were nearing quadruple digits at one point.
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