"In '67 I was the dandy of Gamma Chi"

The first thing you'll notice upon arriving at the Jones Beach parking lot for Steely Dan are the breathtaking number of assholes. (If you take the bus from Freeport, as I did, you'll witness them squeeze their gargantuan inebriated frames into the aisle while blaming their spouses for making them late.)

You may begin to wonder what you've gotten yourself into. No way to blend in if you're under 45 and don't even have the good sense to wear a baseball cap. Are these people really into Steely Dan? Did I come on the wrong night and end up at the Foreigner Aerosmith show?

I was prepared for the army of Polo shirts tucked into Chino shorts. But I was taken aback by the rival mob of mustached, off-duty Long Island cops WHO CAME TO PART-AY. The Bush/Cheney '04 bumper stickers were also a troubling surprise.

I fought off an impulse to immediately sell my ticket and go home to watch The 400 Blows while plotting the Death of Freedom. This was The Dan, man. I reasoned that once the music kicked in I'd be able to transcend my godless Defeatocrat elitism and feel some sort of tolerance for these Uber Whities. (Who knows the html code for umlaut?)

Also, despite my earlier griping, it suddenly seemed a blessing in disguise that the venue served no booze. I'd at least be spared any grotesque tableaux of slimy lizards fornicating to the sounds of "Hey 19".

I submitted to the pat down and found my seat in time for most of Michael "Yacht Rock" McDonald's set. I'd pretty much forgotten about that guy, can you imagine? Well, all the tunes I'd cringed through on the classic rock stations of my back-seat youth came rushing back.

If you think you're not familiar with his work, think again. Hearken back to the maddening display TV's in The 40 Year Old Virgin.

Still nothing? These song titles alone are sure to ring a few sleazy-listening bells: "I Keep Forgettin" (WE'RE NOT IN LOVE ANYMORE!), "Minute by Minute", "What a Fool Belieeeeeeeeeeeves". AND THAT'S NOT ALL! THERE'S MORE! YOU'LL TAKE IT WITH A SMILE ON YOUR FACE!

And why? Well, for starters, it was an absolutely exquisite evening. A light FM breeze wafted in off the beach for our delight. Also, my oldest brother had secured great seats dead center, pretty much in the acoustic sweet spot. In fact, the sound was so good I actually caught my foot tapping during "Taking it to the Streets." (Tell no one.)

To his credit, McDonald chose one hell of a drummer, a sister who beat the skins senseless while simultaneously bringing the backup vocal soul. (Actually, I'd bet there were more black people on stage during his set than most audience members meet in a year.) It speaks volumes about their professionalism that they could keep McDonald's muzak from crushing my will to live.

But enough belly-aching. Last night was all about The Dan and their crack band: four piece brass section, keyboard, two guitars (Becker and Jon Herington, harmonium (Fagen), and two female back-up singers (the one on the left, Carolyn Leonhart, is unbearably... talented).

The Man on percussion deserves special attention: Keith Motherfunning Carlock, who tore more twists and turns than humanly possible into almost every song.

Is Steely Dan an acquired taste? Can't rightly say; I've always had a thing for them. (Might even be genetic.) Their songs evoke a strange, more-than-a-bit creepy milieu of shady characters and sketchy places that I like visiting (though I wouldn't want to live there, at least not without an assumed name and a halfway decent convertible.)

Fagen and Becker also seem like the type of "Artists" who might come out and refuse to indulge the audience with the old hits, while spending the bulk of a concert wanking on their new stuff. Quite the opposite. There wasn't a single tune from their solo projects last night. It was hit after hit after hit, AND I got my "Deacon Blues". Sample lyrics:

"I crawl like a viper through these suburban streets... Drink Scotch whiskey all night long and die behind the wheel."

Sitting beside me, a large solitary man with a flashlight took diligent notes on the set list. Unfortunately, he left before I could get his (mother's) phone number to follow up on the exact song order. But if you enjoy Mr. Steely, you'll like the looks of this: Bodhisattva, Dirty Work, Aja, Black Friday, Do It Again, Show Biz Kids, Deacon Blues, Peg, Hey 19, Green Earrings (would have preferred Haitian Divorce or Caves of Altamira, but they didn't consult me), Kid Charlemagne (YES.), FM, My Old School.

They invited McDonald out toward the end and let him cheese up a couple songs . I'm a big fan of Fagen's voice, it seems rich from a lifetime of snide remarks. Thankfully the smoove croons were displaced by the sardonic sneer in time for "My Old School." Guadalajara won't do.

Comments

[todd]

Thanks for warning us about the crowd at Jones Beach. I can't stress the importance of your fine work. But do me a favor: leave Foreigner out of this. I, for one, will never stop believing!

[Max Power]

The inference about Foreigner's fanbase was "inelegant" and has been amended. We regret the error and hope we can all agree on Aerosmith's inferiority.

[All-h]

Thanks unto Max.

[Dan]

I you all love!g