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Jonathan Richman: The Eyes
Have It
Live at the Middle East, Cambridge, MA
Jonathan Richman is a
pretty normal looking kind of guy. Some might even call him
geeky. If you passed him in the street, sporting a black and
white horizontally striped shirt and a scruffy brown jacket,
you probably wouldn't say: "Oooh, there goes the godfather
of punk." You'd probably just think, "Another computer
programmer has found his way outside again."
And yet JoJo, as his
devotees call him, is indeed the musical sire of just about
any non-mainstream band that's stirred up dust in a garage
over the past 25 years, even if he doesn't like to be
associated with the "punk" movement (despite his intro for
the PBS "History of Rock & Roll" segment on just that
topic).
Suffice to say, in the
early '70s—the days of glam rock and arena
jerkoffs—JoJo took the essence of rock's pure mainline
energy, stripped it down to its emotional core, and with a
few guitar riffs, a slightly nasally voice and a very clever
turn of phrase, proved that you didn't have to have the sex
appeal of a Peter Frampton (debate that amongst yourselves)
or the musical chops of an Eric Clapton to get up on stage
and create something pretty damn meaningful. Twenty-five
years later, JoJo is still making meaningful, if simple,
music that touches the soul, makes you laugh and proves that
geeks can rock.
* * * *
*
10:05 p.m.
I walk into the upstairs room at the Middle East, normally
abuzz with feedback and talking. Tonight, you can hear a pin
drop. Jonathan is already on stage. Someone tells me this is
his third or fourth song. So much for the 10 p.m. start
time. I order a beer in a whisper-- intent fans around me
scowl in my direction as my change makes too noise on the
bar. Jonathan has just finished "Full-Time Daddy," a song
many people have been saying reflects his current marital
status--or lack thereof. Still, he seems quite upbeat as he
breaks into "The Fenway."
10:15 p.m.
I see empty space on the other side of the club. The room
only holds about a hundred people, and it looks like they
have all decided to stand directly in front of the stage in
one huge human wall. Nevertheless, I take the plunge into
the crowd, realizing I will never make it back to the bar
alive for the rest of the evening--it will be a small price
to pay. Jonathan is now doing "Plus One on the Guest List,"
yet another ode to his supposed singleness. This segues
nicely into "Give Paris One More Chance."
10:22 p.m.
A couple next to me have broken into a geeky little dance,
swinging their arms back and forth to the music, but their
feet don't keep up. He is definitely a computer programmer,
drawn like a moth to the flame. The crowd finally perks up a
bit for "Vincent Van Gogh." Until now, the applause had
merely been polite, and I wondered why Jonathan didn't tell
the crowd, "Hey, stop adoring me and enjoy yourselves." I
guess he decided to play some old crowd pleasers
instead--woo 'em that way.
10:28 p.m.
I become convinced JR is looking right at me. I know, I
know, everyone always thinks this, but I am able to catch
his eye more than once. Well, it's either me or the guy in
front of me with the goatee. Hmmm, Jonathan sure doesn't
look 44—nothing like a good DIY punk ethic to fight
wrinkles. Jonathan drops the mood down a few notches for
"They're Not Trying on the Dance Floor." He must have caught
sight of the uncoordinated couple next to me.
10:30 p.m.
As "Rooming House on Venice Beach" starts, the crowd gets
excited—they've really loosened up a lot, but I still
think a little remonstration from Jonathan wouldn't be
amiss. Oh great, now a guy sporting the requisite goatee is
standing right in front of me. JoJo can't see me
anymore—he'll never marry me at this rate. But
suddenly, he breaks into "Velvet Underground," and I really
don't care. I had never seen him do this song in concert
before. This was starting to feel special…
10:35 p.m.
The guy with the goatee goes to get a beer—Jonathan can
see me again. Now, at this point, I wish I had a witness
because I swear that he moved all the way over to the side
of the stage, stared in my direction and did an instrumental
version of "Blue Moon." Actually, I may not have been
entirely crazy for thinking this—I was standing near
the back under a light, pretty much away from anyone else.
During the song, several people turned to see who he was
looking at so intently. So he was obviously looking at
someone, and if it made me feel better to think that this
musical legend was indeed looking at me with those doleful
St. Bernard eyes, well, where was the harm?
10:43 p.m.
I come out of my swoon to find Jonathan halfway through "I
Was Dancing in the Lesbian Bar." At this point, he whips his
guitar from around his neck and starts to bump and grind the
dorkiest dance you've ever seen as drummer Tommy Larkins
lays down a groovin' backbeat. Now I know where the dancing
couple get if from.
10:45 p.m.
"Now it's time for me to tell all you girls to leave your
boyfriends...But Jonathan, he needs me... I know he does
dear, but don't you know that's because he's a musician?"
And so begins the amusing patter of what I wouldn't be
surprised was a verbatim account of a conversation Richman
might have had with his girlfriend/wife, oh, maybe a hundred
times. "Don't you remember, dear, how we used to go out into
the desert and throw Pepsi bottles at each other?" Such
whimsy reminds me of Robyn Hitchcock. In fact, during
Richman's childlike song period in the mid-'70s, he and
Hitchcock were probably consulting the same muse. This sad
tale of woe leads into Jonathan's encore, "You Can't Talk to
the Dude," and the autobiographical references are
unavoidable.
10:50 p.m.
The crowd won't let Jonathan leave the stage, so he does one
more, a few sweet, poignant lines sung in Spanish from his
1995 album, "You Must Ask the Heart." I am reassured when he
finishes with: "Don't worry, I don't know what it means,
either." Then he's gone.
11:00 p.m.
Actually, he's not. He's out at the main bar, talking to
some people, but mostly he's watching a baseball game on the
TV. I'm standing very near him, talking to a friend. He
catches my eye, yet again, and smiles at me. I smile back
but can't muster the courage to speak to him. I guess some
legends are better left unmet.
When I get home, karma
kicks in. I turn on the TV and what's on but Repo Man? Otto
(Emilio Estevez) is trying to pick up a girl, and what's on
his car radio? The infamous Burning Sensations' cover of
Richman's "Pablo Picasso." Yeah, girls can't resist him,
damn, you bet…
Originally posted on
SonicNet, April 3, 1996
Copyright 1996 Lisa M. Moore
May not be reproduced in whole or part without my written
permission.
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