Though undeniably accurate, "The Bridge School Benefit" is the worst name for a rock concert ever. The only sexy thing about it (besides giving publicity to the school, which deserves it), is that it sounds a lot better to skip out on helping a friend move or having dinner with your S.O.'s parents to attend a "benefit" than it does to admit you're going to smoke doobies and listen to the devil's music.
But for all its bad name-iness, and the fact that I hate the Shoreline Ampitheater (Am I too old to appreciate massive venues? Or have I been spoiled by intimate shows in good-music towns?), the 21st Annual Bridge School Benefit last Saturday was actually quite good.
It may seem like no surprise, given that Tom Waits was on the bill. But with great expectations comes the possibility for great disappointment, and I’m happy to report that Mr. Waits did not disappoint.
Good old Tom when he was, well, less old.
In fact, everyone performed as well as, if not better than, I expected. We missed Regina Spektor and were still finding our spots on the lawn when Tegan and Sara were finishing (both of whom stood in for no-shows Eddie Vedder and Flea). But My Morning Jacket was virtuosic – if a little boring – in that NPR sort of way. I was surprised to find I actually like John Mayer live, with his lovely, smooth voice and his fantastic cover of Tom Petty’s “Free Fallin’” (though I can never forget he’s slept with Jessica Simpson and, therefore, can never quite take him seriously). Even Neil Young, who I appreciate but secretly think sounds alike in all his songs, broke my heart with “Oh, Lonesome Me.”
And then there was Tom. Oh, Tom. Old. And strange, with his face all twisted up like he couldn’t figure out what was in his mouth and therefore couldn’t spit it out, and his posture the kind of awkward that can only be inherent and not dependent on actual insecurity. And with that gravelly voice that’s even better live than it is recorded. I’m sure the eerie light helped give the performance Tom’s characteristic circus-freak character, but it’s undeniable that most of the mood was thanks to his jaw-droppingly good lyrics and jaw-droppingly weird voice. Plus, I can’t think of better accompaniment for him than the Kronos Quartet (who, by the way, seem as normal as Tom Waits isn’t). (For those wondering, he played “Cold, cold ground,” “Something for Alice,” and “God’s Away on Business,” among other favorite-but-not-overplayed classics).
The breakout surprise (at least for me) was Jerry Lee Lewis, who hobbled to the piano and then wrestled musical flames and fury out of its keys with a passion that seemed like it should kill him (though I’m told he’s famous for doing even more, and was visibly subdued. Coulda fooled me.) Did I know I liked this music so much? I couldn’t remember. But his performance gave me more energy and plain old glee than anything I’d heard beforehand.
I regret that I have nothing to report on Metallica, as democracy determined that my group and I get out of the parking lot before the mass exodus, but I hear their acoustic set full of strange covers (Garbage? Dire Straits?) was uninspired and depressing anyway.
All in all, the concert really did have something for everybody – indie, classic, folk, metal (at least, theoretically), and whatever the hell you call Tom Waits. And so I’m not sorry that I braved the drive to Shoreline -- and the seven-dollar beers -- to see the concert. I mean, you know, the benefit.
Oh, and by the way, I'd have fantastic live photos to show you if I didn't actually see the whole show on a huge screen hanging above the lawn, which doesn't lend itself so well to photography. (What was that I was saying about massive venues again?) Instead, take another look at the best thing to ever come out of Pomona:
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