The Eagles at the Fabulous Forum

Outside the beautiful new Fabulous Forum

The Fabulous Forum—the long-time home of the Lakers as well as “the” premier L.A. concert arena in the 1970s/80s—pretty much laid abandoned after the Lakers moved to Staples Center in 1999. For several years, the building served as an occasional church; then was purchased in 2012 by the Madison Square Garden Company, which spent millions to renovate it.

The once again “fabulous” Forum reopened last week, to rave reviews, as a concert-only venue. The quintessential California band, the Eagles—who, perhaps not so coincidentally, also opened downtown’s Nokia Theatre in 2007— was tapped to inaugurate the rejuvenated space. Three shows were added after the first three shows sold-out almost immediately. We saw the Eagles and the beautiful new Fabulous Forum last night.

We hadn’t been to the Forum since 1989, when we drove up from San Diego—where we lived at the time—to see Paul McCartney perform with Wings. In those days, the Forum was nothing more than a great big barn seating up to 18,000 concertgoers. We literally sat in the very last row at the top of the stadium and couldn’t see very well. But the sound was loud and I was happy just to be able to breathe the same smoke-filled air as the ex-Beatle.

Today the Forum is indeed quite fabulous. The lobby that rings the perimeter of the building is narrow and dimly lit, offering a clubby atmosphere to a venue that used to scream “sports stadium.” Refreshments are provided by several hip L.A. vendors, including La Brea Bakery, Pinks, and Culver City’s own Coolhaus. Inside the arena, the stage occupied a full third of the floorplan, making the space feel intimate despite an audience of thousands. And the sound was amazing—every note was audible above the general rock concert din. We no longer watch concerts from the last row and so had close seats to the right of the stage. They were almost perfect.

Our view of the stage (opening act)

Pink's hot dogs sold in the stands during intermission

The audience appeared to be 99% baby-boomers—in other words, people our age. The man sitting next to Tim joked that there were probably eight ambulances waiting outside, instead of the usual three or four, in case of emergency. It took a long while before the smell of marijuana wafted in our direction.

The Eagles were fabulous, too. Bandleaders Don Henley and Glenn Frey got things rolling by singing a couple of acoustical songs from their Desperado album, early work from their more folksy period. The concert then progressed through their discography, featuring every hit they ever recorded. With the exception of Joe Walsh, who was allowed to riff on his guitar, the vibe was mostly laid-back—in fact, one reviewer accused Frey and Henley of “loitering” on stage. Still, when the entire band was singing together in harmony, they sounded exactly like an angelic choir from heaven. It was glorious.

Amazingly, the Eagles had enough hit songs to fill three hours (with intermission), before ending on “Life in the Fast Lane.” And yet [spoiler alert!] they left three of their biggest songs for the encore. Nevertheless, people started to bail as soon as the main part of the concert was over. This is L.A., after all, where the fear of traffic trumps even the best concert experience.

“SERIOUSLY?” I asked the couple next to Tim, as they got up to go. “You’re leaving before hearing HOTEL CALIFORNIA?!!!”

And, sure enough, the first encore was “Hotel California,” perhaps the Eagles’ most famous song, followed by a few more, including my favorite, “Desperado.” I hardly noticed the traffic once we headed home.

Typical Eagles fans

The Rascals

I was 14 when I attended my first rock concert. It was 1968 and the venue was the Hollywood Bowl—back then, the only place in town to see large concerts. The headlining act was the Rascals, the #1 rock group at the time. My “date” was an older friend of the family, who I couldn’t stand. But he had a driver’s license and a car of his own, so I agreed to go with him. I was too young to see the Beatles play the Bowl in the early 1960s. I was not going to miss the Rascals.

Originally called the Young Rascals, the group started as an East Coast cover band that mostly played other people’s songs, like “Mustang Sally” and “Good Lovin’.” They also wore ridiculous Buster Brown outfits, for which they were probably most famous. (See Steven Van Zandt’s tribute below.) By the time I became a fan, the Rascals were singing their own songs and had abandoned their knickers.

The four band members—Eddie Brigati (vocals), Felix Cavaliere (keyboards), Gene Cornish (guitar), and Dino Danelli (drums)—went their separate ways in the early 1970s. Felix, in particular, achieved legendary status among rock aficionados who still mourned the loss of the Rascals, while Dino went on to become one of the greatest drummers in the history of rock-n-roll. Then, in 1988, everyone but Eddie reunited briefly for a national tour. Tim and I saw them at the old California Theater in San Diego. They played their hearts out, even though there were only about 100 people in the audience. Theirs was one of the best concerts I’ve ever seen.

Last year, the entire band got back together again for Once Upon a Dream, a “bioconcert” that incorporates film clips, a narrative, and live performances by the Rascals. After playing on Broadway, the show is now touring the U.S., with a stop later this week at L.A.’s Greek Theater. The Grammy Museum hosted a very special interview event with the group, Monday night. Needless to say, it was historic. The woman sitting in front us burst into tears as soon as the guys took the stage.

Bob Santelli, executive director of the museum, conducted the interview in the sold-out 200-seat Clive Davis theater. They talked about the New Jersey music scene in the 1960s and how the Rascals evolved into one of the best blues/rock bands of its time. At one point, Santelli mentioned their Hollywood Bowl appearance in 1968 and asked the audience if anyone had been there. I was the only person who raised her hand.

“Did anyone see the Rascals play the Hollywood Bowl?” he asked again, as the houselights went up.

“ME!” I yelled, waving my hand. “I SAW THEM AT THE HOLLYWOOD BOWL!”

“How was the concert?” Santelli then asked, as all four Rascals peered my way.

“I was 14 and they played with Eric Burdon and the Animals . . .” 

“And Tommy James and the Shondells!” Eddie Bigati interjected, nodding his head.

“Yes, and the Shondells!” I echoed, suddenly remembering the third group I saw 45 years ago! “YOU GUYS WERE WONDERFUL!!”

After all the talking ended, the band took the stage and played four songs, plus an encore. They sounded phenomenal (see snippet below). I can hardly wait to see them again on Thursday at the Greek Theater.

"It's a Beautiful Morning" at the Grammy Museum

P.S. It's now Friday morning and I have a rock-n-roll hangover. The concert at the Greek was fabulous. My head is swimming in Rascals music.

On the way to our seats, we ran into two separate sets of friends. "I knew it was going to be nothing but old people here tonight!" one friend (our age) said, laughing.

A week ago, we would have worn shorts and tanktops. Last night, it was all sweatshirts and wool scarves. But it didn't matter. We loved the Rascals and they loved us right back. Like the song says, the concert was absolutely WONDERFUL!

When you are happy

Every place feels like home

'Cuz you're never alone.

There's much to be said

But it's all in your head.

IT'S WONDERFUL!

AIN'T IT GROOVY?

"It's Wonderful" (album cut) 

"How Can I be Sure?"—the show-stopper and the song

that made me a Rascals fan in 1968

One Night with Janis Joplin

I love larger-than-life personalities—especially women who are guided by their keen wits and emotions. Sometimes their lives end tragically; but when they’re at the top of their game, they are truly something amazing to behold.

As a kid, I was never a big fan of Janis Joplin—to my young ear, her songs seemed more filled with screeching than passion. Over the years, however, I’ve come to appreciate her bluesy delivery and raw pain. I became particularly fascinated by her after seeing the movie The Rose, a thinly-veiled fictional account of Joplin’s short life, starring Bette Midler, and Love, Janis, a terrific biographical play we saw in San Diego in 2002. Both cover the final days of her life before she overdosed on heroin at the age of 27.

There’s a new Joplin tribute being staged at the Pasadena Playhouse now until April 21: One Night with Janis Joplin. Less a play than a musical concert, it features an outstanding Mary Bridget Davies channeling Janis’s famous gravelly voice as if we were seeing her perform live in the late 1960s. Between songs, she interacts with the audience, telling stories about growing up in Port Arthur, Texas, where she learned to sing the Broadway show tunes her mother played over and over again. When she reminisces about her other musical influences—Bessie Smith, Etta James and Nina Simone—songstress extraordinaire Sabrina Elayne Carten emerges as the “Blues Singer,” providing more traditional versions of the songs, like “Tell Mama” and “Summertime,” Janis ultimately made her own. Right before the intermission, Davies and Carten (as Aretha Franklin), bring the house down with their rockin’ rendition of “Spirit in the Dark.”

One Night with Janis Joplin is a fabulous show that’s well worth the drive to Pasadena (during rush hour!), even if you live on the westside. As I was walking into the theater last night, I looked around at the other audience members and thought, “Yikes! We baby-boomers are certainly getting old!” But, believe me, we all felt 45 years younger when we came out again two hours later.

Click here and here to read L.A. Times reviews of the play.

The real Janis at Woodstock

Hey! Hey!

Anyone familiar with this blog knows that I love the Beatles and always will. There was a brief period in the late 1960s, however, when my affection for the Fabs was rivaled by four other lads: The Monkees, the pop-rock group who (for any of you non-baby-boomers) had a prime-time TV show from 1966 until 1968.

The Monkees TV show was NBC’s response to the Beatles’ wildly popular movie A Hard Day’s Night. But unlike the Beatles, The Monkees group was specifically created for the TV show. Micky Dolenz, Davy Jones, Michael Nesmith, and Peter Tork all auditioned to become part of the band and, therefore, the show. They were supposed to be singers and actors, not musicians or songwriters.

Although they were derisively called “The Pre-Fab Four” by unkind critics, my sister and I loved The Monkees and their music. I especially adored Micky who, like John Lennon (still my favorite Beatle), was the group’s defacto leader. My sister liked Davy, the “cute one;” but then again, Paul McCartney was always her favorite Beatle, so no surprise there. Getting ready for the show every week, I would change into my best outfit—and maybe even wear a little lipstick—before sitting down to watch my heroes. I was 12 years old.

I’m not sure what happened to The Monkees after their TV show was canceled, but other things in my life became far more important. Then about 20 years ago, they played as part of an oldies concert following a Padres baseball game in San Diego. I tried to storm the stage, yelling “MICKY!! MICKY!!,” but, of course, wasn’t allowed onto the field. Fast-forward to 10 years ago when Micky and Davy began touring together and played a short set at Disney’s California Adventure theme park. I was much more restrained, but thrilled nonetheless to hear them sing their top-10 hits. I thought for sure they’d never play together again.

Not so! As soon as I read that Micky, Davy and Peter were appearing at the Greek Theatre this past weekend, I bought tickets for Tim and me. The majority of the audience was definitely within our demographic as middle-aged people sitting around us reminisced about their teen years. There was no opening act, so I wondered how The Monkees were going to fill a two-hour concert by themselves. Soon enough a large screen came to life, showing silly 1960s Monkees commercials for Kool-Aid and Kellogg’s cereal. Then, at 8:02PM, the back-up band started playing as the three Monkees emerged, singing “(Take the) Last Train to Clarksville,” while footage from the TV show was shown overhead. Suddenly we were all teenagers again! The audience went wild.

Micky, Davy and Peter looked great and, for the most part, sounded good. But most wonderful was the continuous feed of Monkees TV show footage screened at the back of the stage. The Monkees may never have been as talented as the Beatles, but they were certainly much more beautiful. No wonder I dressed up to watch them every Monday might.

The guys performed their greatest hits (and more!) for over 2 hours. By the end everyone was standing, singing and, yes, even crying. OK, I was the only one crying, but we all had a wonderful time.

Bridge School Concert

I’ve been a fan of rock legend Neil Young for more than three decades. I, of course, have always loved Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young, arguably the most popular of all the bands he’s played with. But it wasn’t until I heard his solo album Harvest in the late 1970s—many years after it had been released, by the way—that I became a huge fan. I have followed him ever since. We don’t always like all of his music, but Tim and I have seen him perform on stage countless times. Each concert is as youthful and as memorable as the one before, even though Young is now well into his 60s.

An outspoken liberal, Neil lives in northern California on a ranch close to where counter-culture author Ken Kesey once lived. For the past 24 years Neil and his wife Pegi have organized a benefit concert for the Bridge School, which Pegi helped found in the mid-1980s. The concert traditionally attracts megawatt artists, like Bruce Springstein, Paul McCartney, Brian Wilson, Sheryl Crowe, Jackson Browne, and The Who. The announcement of each year’s lineup is always highly anticipated. Although I’ve wanted to go forever, the thought of schlepping all the way up to Mountain View for a concert was never appealing. That is, until I opened the newspaper one morning last month and read that Buffalo Springfield, Young’s first band, was reuniting for this year’s Bridge School benefit. We had been wanting to visit Tim’s brother, who lives in Sebastopol, north of San Francisco, anyway, so we bought tickets to the concert and made plans to fly up on Saturday, even though all weather reports were predicting a wet weekend.

We landed in Oakland at 9:15AM. The sky was cloudy but dry. We congratulated ourselves for having such good fortune. By the time we got to Sebastopol, however, the skies had opened up, pouring down rain through the night and into the next day. The concert started at 2PM on Sunday.

We spent the night with friends in Bodega Bay and then left at 10AM to head south to Mountain View, where the outdoor Shoreline Amphitheater is located. The drive was harrowing. I am not the most adventurous driver even in the best of weather, so my brain was on major “red alert.” My biggest fear was crossing the Golden Gate Bridge at the height of the storm; but surprisingly the bridge ended up being the least scary stretch of all, even though (as you can tell from the photo) we could hardly to see the other side!

It took us nearly three hours to drive 100 miles, but when we arrived in Mountain View the sky was only partly cloudy. Could Neil Young possibly control the weather, too? We were ecstatic, though I took my rain parka along just in case. I also convinced Tim to buy a cheesy $5 parka when we were paying for our souvenir t-shirts. And, lucky, too, because about 30 minutes into the concert it started to rain and pretty much didn’t stop till we were back in the car several hours later.

The audience was fairly mixed: some young people, but mostly folks our age or even older. Tim was thrilled when a woman came up to him and said he looked like Mike Love of the Beach Boys, though I didn’t think that was much of a compliment!

The musical lineup was incredible: Kris Kristofferson, actor Jeff Bridges, country legend Ralph Stanley, Elvis Costello, Leon Russell, Elton John, Pearl Jam, and, of course, Neil Young and Buffalo Springfield. Bridges sang a couple of songs from his Oscar-winning movie Crazy Heart, while Stanley treated us to some old-time country standards, which drew a standing ovation. Tim was most moved by Kristofferson who, even though sounded kinda creaky, can still break your heart singing “Me and Bobby McGee.”

With all the rain and marijuana smoke in the air, we pretended we were at Woodstock, though we doubted garlic fries and pulled pork sandwiches were part of that particular outdoor festival!

The Bridge School concert is typically an acoustical event. Still, Elton John and Leon Russell, who just released a joint CD together, managed to rock the theater with their pianos and unplugged band. It was wonderful seeing the white-maned Leon pounding the keyboards after walking on stage using a cane. Elton, too, looked fabulous and sounded as good as the last time I’d seen him playing at his now historic Dodger Stadium concert in 1975. They brought the house down.

Russell and John were followed by Neil Young’s protégés Pearl Jam, whose music we don’t know, though they did open for Neil when he was touring in 1993. We went to that concert, but stood outside the arena until Pearl Jam was done because their music was just too damn loud. Playing acoustical, though, was much easier on the ears—so much so, I might even buy a couple of their songs on iTunes.

After a break, the stage was then set for Buffalo Springfield. We had by now been sitting in the on-again-off-again rain for six hours, but it was well worth the wait. Although the first couple of songs were a bit shaky, Stephen Stills, Richie Furay and Neil Young then launched into their biggest hit, “For What It’s Worth,” and we were suddenly transported back in time. The young woman in front of Tim turned around and asked him if Buffalo Springfield had originated that song. “YES!” he answered incredulously as I joyously sang along with the lyrics.

The set ended with “Bluebird,” another big Buffalo Springfield hit, before Neil, who had briefly played with many of the acts throughout the concert, invited all the performers back on-stage to join him in singing his anthem, “Keep on Rockin’ in the Free World!” The audience sang gloriously in unison. It was the perfect ending to an unforgettably phenomenal day. I can’t wait to see who Neil Young plays with next year.

October 2009

Did you ever have one of those months when you were too busy to breathe, let alone post blog updates. That’s our October! Here’s a thumbnail review of what we’ve been up to . . .

Cosmic Conjunction (10/4): The season of giving started early this year with a benefit concert on the lawn outside the Griffith Observatory. Wolfgang Puck provided dinner (honey-stung chicken with heirloom tomato and peach salad, potatoes, a corn Madelin, and red velvet cake), while we listened to music selected and conducted by Arthur B. Rubinstein, best known for directing various movie and TV soundtracks. The highlight was a new composition, fittingly called “Observations,” narrated by Leonard Nimoy. Hearing Mr. Spock relate the story of the birth of the cosmos, under a glorious harvest moon, was complete heaven on earth!

Sports Museum (10/8): ESPN cosponsored a fundraiser at the Sports Museum of Los Angeles, so naturally we went even though we didn’t know much about the cause, Junior Achievement of Southern California, before entering the event. Turns out both the Junior Achievement, a volunteer-based organization that teaches kids financial literacy, and the Museum, a 32,000 square-foot facility that holds the largest private collection of sports memorabilia in the world, were fabulous. Plus we got to see basketball great Kareem Abdul Jabbar, who apparently just stopped by for a snack. He’s very tall! For more details, click here.

Cocktails at Union Station (10/10): One of Tim’s favorite food critics is Pulitzer Prize winner Jonathan Gold, columnist for the L.A. Weekly. We’re also big fans of Zócalo Public Square, a nonprofit that presents local lectures and screenings in an attempt to broaden civic discourse. Their programs are provocative and always free. To help support Zócalo, Jonathan Gold hosted a cocktail party fundraiser at Union Station, one of downtown L.A.’s most beautiful architectural landmarks. Catering the event were several of the city’s trendiest restaurants: Mozza, Cut, Church & State, Palate, Providence, The Gorbals, Comme Ça, and Rivera. Tim is more a beer man and I don’t drink alcohol at all, so the whole cocktail thing was lost on us. But we did pretty much get drunk on the food: pig burgers (yum!), bufala & alici salad, bacon-wrapped Matzo balls, tortilla florales, and butterscotch budino. Tim also tried the pork terrine with pickled shitake, clam fritters, tuna tartare, and steak tartare sliders—all of which are outside my particular (some would say “peculiar”) taste palate. The best part was sharing a small table with Kevin Roderick, author of two of our fave L.A. books, Wilshire Boulevard and The San Fernando Valley. We managed to talk to him quite normally without gushing like the two star-struck fans we were.

Hollyhock House (10/13): A few days later, we got the opportunity to attend a preview screening of Visual Acoustics, a new documentary about our architectural photography hero Julius Shulman. The movie was screened at Barnsdall Park in east Hollywood, site of Frank Lloyd Wright’s famous Hollyhock House. Although both of us have lived in Los Angeles almost our entire lives, neither of us had ever toured the Hollyhock House, so we were thrilled to see the film as well as one of Wright’s most famous L.A. masterpieces—and all on the same night. Built of concrete, the house was magnificent, if a bit sterile (typical FLW). The doc was wonderful, too, and made us even sadder that Julius had just recently passed away.

Actors' Gang benefit (10/17): Though Tim had by now declared “no more fundraisers!,” even he couldn’t resist half-price tickets to a Sarah Silverman and Tenacious D concert benefiting the Actors' Gang, a Culver City-based theatrical group directed by Oscar-winner Tim Robbins. The event was held at the intimate Ivy Station, a former trolley stop that now houses a 99-seat theater. It was quite the scene. Not only were we on the older end of the demographic spectrum, we also didn’t wear black, which is apparently the hip color for young concertgoers. I may not have been cool, but at least I didn’t roast (like everyone else!) in my pink summer dress. Tenacious D was outrageous. Led by insane comedic actor Jack Black, the two-person group performed hysterical heavy metal parodies on acoustic guitars, while most of the audience sang along. I loved every minute.

Paul Shaffer (10/21): Pianist extraordinaire Paul Shaffer has lots of stories to tell. As the former bandleader on Saturday Night Live and David Letterman’s musical director for the past 27 years, he’s met and played with almost every rock and pop star alive today, plus a few who are no longer living. On Wednesday, he made a stop at the Grammy Museum to recount some of the stories found in his new book, We’ll Be Here for the Rest of Our Lives: A Swingin’ Show-Biz Saga. We couldn’t resist seeing him. And lucky for us, too, because he was absolutely terrific—very funny and a brilliant raconteur. I can’t wait to read his book.

So that’s it so far. There are still five days left in October. Tim is hoping the Angels will make it into the World Series and I’ve got a big conference at the end of the week. But the really big news, which I’ll probably blog about next, is that, on top of everything else, we’re remodeling our garage! Stay tuned for news about the demolition later this week . . .

Rock 'n Roll Heaven

Just when I think we’re getting too old to go to any more rock concerts, a week like this one comes along and my faith in the restorative powers of music is renewed.

As part of being named “Employee of the Month,” Tim was given two free tickets to any sports or cultural event of his choice. I was secretly hoping he’d pick the Neil Young concert, but he went with Bruce Springsteen instead, mostly because we had never seen him in concert and Tim thought we probably should at least once in our lifetime. The deal was sweetened when Springsteen’s bandmate Little Steven Van Zandt, who played Silvio on “The Sopranos,” came to the radio station and gave out passes to a meet-and-greet he was hosting before the show.

The concert was held at the L.A. Sports Arena, perhaps best known as the site of the 1960 Democratic national convention. When Tim reminded me that the Arena would probably soon be demolished, I groused, “But this is where JFK was nominated, for cryin’ out loud! IT’S HISTORIC!!”

But, yeah, the building has certainly seen better days. It was grungy and, by today’s standards, relatively small. The seats were nothing more than folding chairs bolted into cement. We had general admission tickets “on the floor,” which meant we got to stand for the entire concert.

Traffic was worse than usual due to an accident that had closed the 405 freeway all day, so we practically had to run from the parking lot in order to make the meet-and-greet on time. Little Steve was there, wearing his signature bandana while glad-handing the fans. This was definitely a “jeans and t-shirt” kind of crowd—“working class” concertgoers that Springsteen is famous for. The line to meet Steven was too long, so we just looked at him from afar and then went to claim our spots on the Arena floor.

The concert was phenomenal. Springsteen plays with such energy that I thought every song was the final song of the evening. At one point, I turned to Tim and said, “I can’t believe you and Bruce are the same age!” We slunk out at 11PM, exhausted as people stomped and hooted for the band to come out and play yet another encore.

Meanwhile, a couple of miles up the road on the very same night, our perennial favorite Neil Young was entertaining folks at the Nokia theater, downtown L.A.’s newest concert venue located across the street from the Staples Center. Obviously we couldn’t be in two places at once, so I was very interested to read the L.A. Times review of the show on Thursday. The reviewer loved it, of course.

Luckily for me, Young was returning to the Nokia on Friday, so I called Tim immediately. “We HAVE to see Neil Young in concert!” I implored. “Can you PLEASE get tickets through your connections?!”

The show was sold-out and Tim’s contact had the day off, so he went to a broker, StubHub, instead and found us good seats in the orchestra. We couldn’t get them until two hours before the show.

Because there was also a basketball game that night, we decided to leave obscenely early. I picked-up Tim at work at 4:30PM and then headed east on surface streets. Not only did we arrive downtown in plenty of time, but we were also able to find a free parking spot on the street! I may be willing to pay hundreds of dollars for a concert ticket, but I refuse to pay $20 for parking—the ultimate highway robbery.

With time to kill, we decided to eat at the Liberty Grill, two blocks from the theater and the Staples Center, where the game was being played. We had fun trying to guess where the other guests were going after dinner. A group of three men in their 30s, eating ribs and burgers: basketball game. An old hippie couple wearing their best tie-died t-shirts: Neil Young concert!

We then walked ten long blocks to StubHub (I wasn’t about to give up my primo parking spot!) to pick-up our tickets. There we met three very young college kids who were hoping to nab last minute basketball seats. They had no idea who Neil Young is! We got back to the Nokia a half-hour before show time.

We’ve seen Neil Young many times before, including last year’s fabulous Hollywood Bowl concert with Crosby, Stills and Nash, but we’ve never seen him quite like this. For the first half of the show, he ambled onstage alone and sang several songs, accompanied by an harmonica and either one of eight guitars, which were set-up around his chair, or one of two pianos. Some of the songs were well-known, but many sounded like he had just written them the night before. He didn’t engage much with the audience—but, then again, he didn’t need to because his music said it all. I was very moved and amazed.

After a brief intermission, Neil, who had (quite frankly) looked fairly doddering during the acoustic set, returned to the stage with members of his old band Crazy Horse and suddenly transformed himself into the rock legend we all know and adore. Playing electric guitar, he pounded his way through classic songs and new as he lumbered around the stage like a big kid. He almost ruined the night by indulging in a 20-minute solo that everyone but us loved—good grief, we ARE getting old!—but redeemed himself during the encore by playing “Cinnamon Girl” and “Tonight’s the Night.” I was so ecstatic that I don’t even remember walking the five blocks to our car.

11/4