When I think of musically significant years in my life, 2003 is one year
that shines out especially clearly. That’s for two reasons. The first
is that 2003 was the year I finally got to see Simon and Garfunkel in
concert, thanks to their much-anticipated Old Friends
Tour. Those two have been a major part of my musical landscape since I
was seven, and given their rocky relationship, I wasn’t sure I’d ever
get to see them live. But see them I did, in October, and though I was
irritated that it was probably the most I’d ever paid for a concert and
the worst seats, even though I bought them in a presale, the show was
amazing, and I enjoyed anticipating and rehashing the tour with my
friends on Art Garfunkel’s message board.
The Internet also played a role in my other major musical obsession that year: American Idol,
then in its second season. As the show progressed into the semi-finals
and the Wild Card round, I found myself falling hard for a contestant by
the name of Clayton Aiken, and in those pre-YouTube days, I spent long
nights downloading the videos of his various appearances, both on the
show and off. I chatted with random fellow fans on one of his first
unofficial fan sites, and I held my breath every week to see whether he
would make the cut yet again. While I cheered on Clay, my best friend
Libbie rooted for Rickey Smith,
a gold-hearted guy whose favorite activities included singing to the
ducks in the park, but neither of us begrudged velvet-voiced Ruben
Studdard the crown he eventually claimed.
Over the past seven
years, we’ve continued to follow the progress of these young musicians,
particularly Clay. We caught the American Idols Live tour that summer,
and I saw Clay in concert three times after that, while Libbie and I
also managed to see and even meet Rickey here in Erie once. We’ve
followed their public appearances, with my grandparents often tipping me
off that Clay or Ruben was about to appear on a morning television
program. These marvelous entertainers have made their way into many of
our conversations, both online and off, and when Clay turns up in their
paper, they make a point of sending me the article. I also have Clay to
thank for introducing me to my friend Cynthia, who found me on MySpace
thanks to a mutual love of Clay and John Denver.
So these guys
have been a big part of my life for a while now, and by the time Libbie
and I went to see Clay and Ruben in concert yesterday, they felt like
“old friends” themselves. Certainly, their affection for one another,
apparent from their days as contestants, was a big part of their reason
for launching this particular tour, and their easy rapport with one
another was one of the most enjoyable aspects of the concert.
We went to see them in Chautauqua, NY, at the same amphitheater where I saw Peter, Paul and Mary
perform in 2006. The crowd this time was comparable, with few empty
spaces in the crowd and several fans who preferred to stand at the top
of the amphitheater rather than venturing down to find a seat. Whenever
it came time for one of the more upbeat numbers, these people on the
outskirts were always the first to get up and dance. Although we had a
long line ahead of us, it would seem that most of the first-comers were
in the Preferred Section, since we were able to get seats near the very
front of the General Section. We also arrived with plenty of time to go
up and peruse the souvenir stand, though this didn’t amount to much,
since the only items on sale were CDs and t-shirts. I had hoped to buy a
program, but I satisfied myself with a Chautauqua newspaper featuring
an article about the concert. I wouldn’t have minded a t-shirt, which
had nice photos of Ruben and Clay on the front and a list of tour dates
on the back, but ultimately I decided that I didn’t need to plunk down
another $30 when I already have three Clay shirts.
Even though
I didn’t buy anything, I’m glad I looked at the souvenirs when I did,
because if I’d planned on scoping that out during intermission, I would
have been out of luck. That’s because Ruben and Clay sang for a full two
hours without any break. Well, I should say without any break for us,
since backup singers Quiana Parler and Casey Thompson each had an
opportunity to shine as soloists while letting Ruben and Clay get off
the stage for a bit. Additionally, each of the headliners had a couple
of full-blown solo songs, so there was ample time for both of them to
rest their voices.
The concert began in a most entertaining fashion, as Ruben came out and launched into Flying Without Wings, his American Idol victory anthem, only to be pushed aside by Clay singing This is the Night, which would have been his
victory anthem had he won - though the vote was so close and the
subsequent album releases so comparably successful, it really felt more
as though Ruben and Clay had tied. For several minutes, they went back
and forth, finding more devious ways of relieving each other of the
spotlight. This good-natured bickering went on throughout the night.
The bulk of the show consisted of tributes to the 60s, the 70s, the 80s
and the 90s, with each decade largely represented by an expansive
medley. The downside to this was that we only got to hear greatly
truncated versions of several of the songs, and they came so rapidly
after each other that it was sometimes hard to adjust. Nonetheless, it
was a fun overview, and each decade also included full-length songs to
balance things out better.
Prior to the first medley, I
enjoyed Clay’s conclusion that Ruben’s 60s were a lot different from his
60s. After they had finished, I concluded that my 60s were quite
different from either of theirs, since they’d included no songs from the
folk movement, even folk-rockers like Simon and Garfunkel. What’s more,
not a single Beatles song was to be heard, though I wonder if that had
more to do with licensing issues. I hope so, because otherwise it seems
an egregious oversight. But the songs they did perform were a lot of
fun, from Elvis Presley’s Suspicious Minds and the Beach Boys’ Wouldn’t It Be Nice to the Turtles’ Happy Together and Roy Orbison’s Crying. Casey closed out the decade with a powerhouse performance of Aretha Franklin’s Natural Woman.
The 60s led naturally into the 70s, where R&B and pop again
dominated, leaving no room for mellow singer-songwriters like John
Denver, Jim Croce, Don McLean or James Taylor, whose songs have often
been a part of Clay’s past concerts. Clay had two big solos during this
set: Still the One, which I’ve heard him sing before, and Barry Manilow’s Mandy,
which I haven’t. Both showcased his voice very well, while Ruben was
right at home with a Marvin Gaye medley and a flawless rendition of
Karen Carpenter’s Superstar, one of his signature Idol
performances. As with the other medleys, Clay and Ruben were onstage
together, along with Casey and Quiana, as the songs continued in rapid
succession, but for the most part they switched off on vocals, with only
a couple, like Earth, Wind and Fire’s rousing September, being genuine duets. The 70s gave Quiana her moment in the spotlight with Chaka Khan’s I’m Every Woman, the last full-blown solo of the night for either of the women.
The tribute to the 80s began with an entertaining, albeit slightly
overlong, sequence that involved “Pastor” Ruben, garbed in a white robe
and spoofing money-grubbing televangelists, receiving a sizable donation
from Clay’s mother to cure him of his inability to dance. Clay’s
supposed lack of rhythm was a running joke throughout the first half of
the concert, and this segment brought it to its natural conclusion.
Ruben and Clay both cite the church as a major factor in their musical
formation, an influence they explicitly noted last night since the
seating in the amphitheater is pews, so I didn’t take the bit to be
mean-spirited, but Libbie’s mom was a little uncomfortable with the
extent of the ribbing, and Libbie and I were both surprised that Clay,
so squeaky-clean the previous times we saw him, swore prominently a few
times throughout the evening, though the profanity was mild and mostly
used for comic emphasis.
Of all the banter of the evening, my
favorite probably occurred during the 80s set, when Clay and Ruben went
back and forth talking about what the 80s meant to them. As Clay rattled
off “macho” icons like MacGyver, Rambo, Mr. T and Rocky, Ruben
reminisced about Care Bears, Smurfs, Teddy Ruxpin and My Buddy dolls,
even singing the jingle for the latter. In the end, Clay won out,
though, launching into the medley with an adrenaline-packed rendition of
Survivor’s Eye of the Tiger, in which Ruben promptly joined in. Other songs included Toto’s Africa, Peter Cetera’s Glory of Love and Heart’s Alone, all of which were energetic, but it was Kenny Loggins’ Footloose that got everybody in the crowd up and dancing.
Ruben kicked off the 90s with an ultra-smooth rendition of Bryan Adams’ Everything I Do, which funnily enough was covered by Clay on his album A Thousand Different Ways. My favorite singers seem to gravitate toward this song; Ryan Kelly also sang it on Celtic Thunder’s It's Entertaiment. At this point, I’m inclined to award Ryan top honors by a whisker, but Ruben and Clay also interpret the song admirably.
The 90s quickly went from earnest to silly when Clay came out in Hammer
pants adorned with a gold chain and gave an enthusiastic performance of
Montell Jordan’s This Is How We Do It. Most of the songs in the
90s set were ripe with comedic possibilities, and Clay and Ruben got as
many laughs as they could out of such numbers as Billy Ray Cyrus’s Achy Breaky Heart, Hanson’s MMMBop, Ricky Martin’s Livin’ La Vida Loca and Sir Mix-a-Lot’s Baby Got Back. The concert ended rather abruptly with Boyz II Men and Mariah Carey’s One Sweet Day, the final song in the medley, but the four quickly returned for an encore of Dirty Dancing theme song Time of My Life, which felt much more like a concluding song and once again got everyone up out of their seats.
While Chautauqua tends to draw a slightly older audience, I saw people
of all ages in the crowd, ranging from young children to silver-haired
ladies who could boogie with the best of them. We ended up sitting just a
couple of rows behind one of my dad’s colleagues and his wife, and when
we bumped into them after the concert at the Refectory, a quaint ice
cream parlor in convenient proximity to the amphitheater, they told us
how much they had enjoyed the concert. While Libbie confessed
disappointment that Clay hadn’t sung Invisible, this tribute to
pop greats of the past seemed like a fitting way to honor some of Ruben
and Clay’s formative influences and give us a peek into pop history. In
many ways it reminded me of Clay’s Jukebox Tour, though that did include
a set from the 2000s, which allowed him to draw from some of his
contemporary recordings, while Ruben and Clay, aside from the opening
number, only went as far as the late 90s, which is long enough ago now
that many of the songs from that time invite nostalgia.
It’s
hard to believe that Clay and Ruben have both been in the business now
for close to a decade. Both of them have recorded several albums, and
judging by the enthusiasm of the crowd last night, there’s no reason to
think that they can’t continue to have lucrative careers. While they may
not dominate the charts these days, they continue to put out excellent
music appreciated by their ardent fans, and I suspect that these oddly
matched buddies will continue to cheerfully support each other long
after they have gone on to separate projects.
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