May 3, 1971: Review -- John Sebastian and Mary Travers without their groups
Remember that John Sebastian show mentioned in the
story about the sound guys at KRC Associates? I saw it here in
May 3, 1971
Soulful Sebastian, Melancholy Mary
At a time when James Taylor is defining new levels of sadness
in us all, it seems like a long, hard way down from the innocent mid ‘60s.
What brought it home over the weekend was seeing two of the
people we were digging back then – John Sebastian and Mary Travers – both
working without the groups they found fame with, both out to establish some new
reality from the old memories.
Which was great for Sebastian. The guiding light of the
Lovin’ Spoonful conjured up all kinds of golden smiling nostalgia in
* * *
TIE-DYED and
triumphant, Sebastian radiated all the joy of his old group plus his own wide-open
love of life. Here’s a man who’s kept the faith. He can even say
Happier still was his pleasure at the acoustics as he soloed
the first song from his “Cheapo Cheapo Productions Presents” albums and three
oldies – “Lovin’ You,” “She’s a Lady” and “Darlin’ Be Home Soon.” (“ . . . See
beyond the houses of your eyes, it’s all right to shoot the moon . . .”)
Things have changed since “Cheapo Cheapo.” Pianist Paul
Harris is still with him, but Sebastian now has a full-fledged band. Kenny
Altman on bass and drummer Dallas Taylor of Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young
fame. A good rockin’ group.
The capacity crowd clapped hands, sang along and cried for
every Spoonful song it could think of. “Red-Eye Express” got a tremendous response.
And Sebastian didn’t hesitate to do some of his new stuff.
Not even a buzzing speaker could bring the show down. There
were rainbows all over everybody’s blues. Sebastian did a four-song encore to
standing ovations.
“I hope you people carry on,” he closed. After a show like
that, even the weather seems better.
* * *
FOR CONTRAST,
there was Mary Travers in half-full Kleinhans Saturday night. Without Peter and
Paul now and in her fifth solo appearance, she was a little stiff, a little
distant from the audience. She’d sing something and then there’d be this polite
applause, like at a recital.
Tall, blonde and beautiful, she was everything you’d expect
from a folksinging liberal in her 30s with an 11-year-old daughter.
It was hard to take at first, bur the evening developed into
a touching and personal portrait, backed quietly by piano, bass and two
guitars.
Still, that 1971 sadness clung to her. The new songs didn’t
bring you up, the social comment numbers stirred all that terrible rancid guilt
again and the spirit of the old songs seemed faded. When she finished, it was
raining.
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