Where to begin, where to begin? Much to dig into on a wild Halloween, but may as well start at the beginning…
We woke up a little before 3am for our ride to the airport. Holy shit, that was early. 24 hours later I’d be back in bed. The entirety of that day, all twenty four tocks around the clock, felt like one show, a really good show, a piece of art, performance art. I bring it up a lot, but I am fascinated by the various ins-and-outs of a concert the art of livemusic beyond just the music. The lights and production, yes, but also the weird little details, the way an audience and a band interact, the way an audience behaves, the way pockets of energy in one part of a room will greatly affect the experience… all of it. There are no bad shows to me, because there is always something interesting to consider, the way it all fits together, it’s all awesome as far as I’m concerned. So that was my day yesterday, little bits of weirdness fitting together in ways that made the whole feel like a singular piece of art.
I mean, it started with our ride to the airport, a Super Shuttle driver who had no business driving a vehicle for a living. We literally had 5 very much too-near near misses on the expressway, what a weird way it would have been to die, not even 4 in the morning on Halloween. We survived, thankfully! Everything else was smooth, landed in New Orleans, made it to the hotel. Lunch at Cochon Butcher (my first time there) was divine, truth and transcendence between two pieces of bread. Delicious. After lunch we walked up to Frenchman’s to meet some friends and catch some music. I ended up catching 30–45 minutes of 4 different sets in 4 different rooms, completely different settings and styles, at one point dancing with some older folks to classic soul and rock tunes like it was a mid-afternoon wedding with no bride or groom, later sitting back and taking in some old time jazz country, a cheap happy-hour bottle of beer at each stop and a couple bucks in the bucket for the musicians. You want livemusic at nearly any hour of the day, New Orleans delivers? Time seemed to stand still, like I could have squeezed an infinity of music into my time bouncing around Frenchman. That was fun. Visiting a town where taking in the local culture literally means seeing as much music as possible (with a tasty bite and a drink in between) is very much up my alley, to say the least. Very fun afternoon, hopefully one or two more like it before the weekend is up.
We took our time getting over to the venue which is a good schlep from the center of town. We had to pick up our tickets at Will Call and my word, if ever the word “clusterfuck” could be used to describe a situation, it would be well served applied to the will call situation at the UNO Lakefront Arena 30 minutes after the doors opened on Halloween night, 2019. The feeling you get when, well over 30 minutes standing on a line that isn’t moving, what the fuck is going on at the actual ticket window which is still out of sight, when someone says they’re on the stage and then George Porter Jr. is playing with them and it’s still unclear you’re ever going to get to the front of that line. Well, my friends, let me tell you something, it ain’t right. It ain’t right at all. I will spare you the details of the clusterfuckness, but at that point I could only shrug and laugh and hope (unsuccessfully) that someone would come by with beers to help pass the time. Needless to say, the line did move, slowly and not-so-surely and, if I may, one more what the fuuuuuck?, we got our tickets, made it inside, 5 songs into the set. First set of 6 for the weekend, it was frustrating and missing songs due to other people’s incompetence sucks, but I’ll live.
Right after we got in and found our group, they kicked into Hatfield and, frankly, that whole shit was instantly forgotten and I was immediately into it, no trouble letting myself go, getting absorbed into the already heightened energy of the room. I had not been in the Lakefront Arena in over 15 years, Halloween 2000, I believe. More to the point, last night was the 20th anniversary of the Halloween 1999 shows, which The Squeeze and I attended a couple weeks after we were married, treating the trip to New Orleans as, more or less, our effective honeymoon. When these shows got announced it didn’t take us long to decide that we had to be there… and after an hour of linewaiting, and a long day of just about everything, we were there and about two chords into Hatfield I was absolutely there.
We caught the last 4 songs of the set and I’m betting, GPJ notwithstanding, that we caught the band well into its ascent to peak. Hatfield, All Time Low > Pilgrims, Knocking Round the Zoo. Those 4 songs pinged nearly everything I love about Widespread Panic, from the superlative songwriting (your favorite jamband wishes it had a song like Pilgrims, just absolutely sublime in every way, one of my absolute favorites) to the crunch headbanger All Time Low, which opened into a short meandering jam that flexed the band’s first set improvisational skills (A+ as always) and then a make-it-their-own cover to blow the energy off the room. During this stretch I thought back to a conversation I had with someone I was friends with in college, not a Panic lover, but an appreciator. He said that what he liked about WSP was their ability to do so much in so little time, little wasted energy building to an absolute frenzied peak. If you think about seeing bands that jam as watching a fireworks display, explosions of color and fanfare, brilliantly lighting up the sonic sky, well when Panic takes it there, it’s like one of those crazy videos where you’re watching the fireworks from a drone, a vantage that let’s you experience the entire explosive display from deep within, beginning to end, absolute crazy shreddiness. But man, I do love Pilgrims, glad I didn’t miss that.
So, we came in late and I only got a quick read on the band’s costumes. We had a good spot overlooking the stage from the side of the arena, but I only had a cursory feel for what the costumes were: Jojo was in a car or a garage? Duane was in a wrestling ring, Dave was a line cook or something, JB some sort of swami or fortune teller? I didn’t think too much of it, frankly, I was thrown too quickly into something underway and didn’t have a great look at it. When the band returned for the second set, they played the Mighty Mouse theme over the PA and Sunny did that bit that Andy Kaufman famously did, lip synching only the “here I come to save the day!” part of the song. Weird. But I didn’t think much of it. No one had mentioned or talked about the band costumes to me, so I didn’t think there was anything special. Then the second set started up and at one point during a jam (I’ll get to the jams in a second), Jojo was turned to face our side and I quickly realized that he was dressed as Latka from Taxi, the Andy Kaufman character. Wait a minute, I thought, if Jojo is Andy Kaufman, why was Sunny doing the Mighty Mouse bit? And then, like when you finally get an Andy Kaufman bit, I actually got the costume… everyone on stage was dressed like a different Kaufman character or personality. I’d say I’m a casual Kaufman fan, but I saw “Man on the Moon” and knew most of his more famous material, the women’s wrestling thing, Taxi, Tonight Show appearances, etc. and when it snapped into place, the costume, this loving tribute, when I got it, it was really a warm feeling I got, like this is fucking brilliant. But really, I had no idea. I’m glad I got it at this point, because it made the rest of the set, particularly the end of the night, so incredibly satisfying. See, the thing is, Kaufman lived his life like it was one extended bit, a piece of performance art with personalities within personalities, a constant are you fucking with me? existence that was probably too brilliant and perfectly executed, down to the weirdest details, a life lived as an inside joke, but one with depth and warmth to go with the unmitigated genius. And to pair that with Widespread Panic, a WSP Halloween show, somehow felt like Andy Kaufman had orchestrated the night itself. Every detail of the night ended up coming into question — what songs were chosen to fit the “theme,” which were just random, and is anything “just random” anymore? I’ve seen some great gags, mostly from Phish, but the design and execution of this night, particularly for an insider band like Widespread, it was next level. I could write a long, long, long ways on this, but suffice it to say, it was fucking awesome.
Anyway, back to the show, because damn, the second set came out like a we’ve-only-begun firecracker. The improvisational centerpiece was a Surprise Valley > Jam (worth of separate label) > Arleen > Surprise Valley. The initial SV ignited the already ignited audience, unbelievably high energy. Man, I love being at a Panic show. Even up north in NYC they’re fun as fuck, but when you get the band in their element like on Halloween in NOLA, the energy in the room is fucking nuts. Last night I high-fived more people than I have all year previously, like genuine fuck yeah, well-deserved high fives and fist bumps from perfect strangers who were just so happy and having so much fun they just had to share it with whomever was in their general vicinity. It sounds cheesy, but it’s a wonderful thing. I got a bunch of those throughout the Surprise Valley jam, Jimmy Herring putting on a guitar display of dizzying heights, packing more into his solos than musical options on Frenchman St. Wow! Double wow! The jam left the typical Surprise Valley theme and went free-range for a bit, the band locked in as a unit, so very much clicked in like few bands can do. And when they find that critical mass, six guys operating as a single unit, a get-out-of-the-way bulldozer, that’s a force to be reckoned with.Triple wow! When they dropped into Arleen, decades of NOLA funk summoned like voodoo spirits, the place went berserk, total knocking-round-the-zoo dance party. At this point I really appreciated what a perfect venue the UNO Arena is, despite their serious Will Call deficiencies, that just right, Goldilocks size, intimate and cozy/cramped in the best way possible, totally general admission so that everyone in the room is more or less surrounded by their friends, a dank old basketball arena perfect for bonkers energy. This Arleen was shake ’em if you got ’em, so much fun. The jam zigged and zagged and then Schools bounced the “Flashlight” bass riff.. I think this was just a feeling-it move, doubt it was preplanned, but it was legit and the band responded, particularly Jojo, laying down a saucy P-Funk groove where once there was none. Very cool. A short drum-led interlude dropped the band back into the closing end of Surprise Valley and as good as everything had been up to that point, this was the peak jam of the night. On paper, it reads “Surprise Valley,” but Jimmy guided this thing to some amazing places, it really felt like a SV > Eyes of the World jam > Blue Sky jam > SV, and yes, maybe those songs all sound kind of similar, but these little movements felt distinct, and with Herring, who has effectively played with both the Dead (in some form) and the Allman Brothers (in some form), these passages felt so natural coming from his guitar. Damn good shit. I won’t blow-by-blow the entire set, but I will just say that, like Pilgrims, Holden Oversoul is absolutely a perfect bit of Panic, in my opinion, absolutely one of my favorite songs, one I could hear every time I see them. After Barstools and Dreamers, the song I’d request, if anyone asked for my opinion, So, yeah, I was happy they played it and danced my ass off accordingly. Spoonful was a nice surprise, I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before, and had this nice little solo-round-robin with Schools and Jojo and JB taking solos before Herring took his, which really launched the blues standard to some interesting places.
Alright, that was the good part, but now we get to the good part. They brought out Mike Mills (from R.E.M.), who played keys on the Lou Reed tune “Perfect Day,” which sort of summed up my 10/31/2019 pretty nicely, almost dying and line-not-moving be damned, it was pretty great! Then Mills moved to guitar (and backup vocals) as they played David Bowie’s “Star Man.” Now, they always will bust out new covers on Halloween and have been doing so since 1992, as long as I’ve been seeing this band, and they’re often just random awesome songs they want to play. I haven’t figured out just how Perfect Day and Star Man fit into the narrative of the night, were they just random or was there more to it? I don’t know, but they nailed them both. Bell really showed some extra juice in his ability to bend his voice to do justice to both Reed and Bowie one right after the other. Not a lot of bands can do that without blinking. Nice work, nice work. Then Mills moved to bass (keys to guitar to bass in three songs also very impressive!) and they played the REM song “Man on the Moon” while flashing little clips of Kaufman on the screen and the satisfaction of the night’s “gag” really put a smile on my face. The thing is, I don’t know how many people in the room were even aware of how everything tied together. There was one level where you didn’t need to appreciate all this shit, that it was just a great Panic show, like one Andy Kaufman SNL appearance might just make you laugh like any other comedian does, no extra context needed. But if you get it, even partially, well, the enjoyment is exponential. I was left wondering, did they come up with the whole AK tribute show and then ask Mills to join them in New Orleans (he’s played with them before, I’m pretty sure, but no other connection I can see), just so they could build up to Man on the Moon, the REM song about Andy Kaufman? Or did they somehow work backwards from that? Fun to think about, absolutely doesn’t matter. Did they do it because it was the 20th anniversary of our honeymoon, a perfect day itself? I doubt it, but who knows? And on its own Man on the Moon was an awesome cover, it’s the song I have in my head the next morning. And then, as Mills walked off, they dropped into a short moonshot version of Porch Song, where they sing “the man in the moon is a musician…” and I realized they went Star Man > Man On the Moon > “man in the moon… living the moon time” and I wondered even more, coffee-mug-in-Usual-Suspects style about everything that had proceeded. At this point, the show had been a brilliant bit of performance art and, as luck would have it, a pretty great Panic show, a very much first-of-three Panic show with some killer jams, a few personal all-time favorites and great new covers. And yet, the joke was still unfolding…
The encore had Duane Trucks take the bass, Sunny sitting behind the drum kit and Dave Schools sans instrument, walking around singing “I Trusted You,” which is just a song with that lyric sung over and over, angry punk rock style. Who wrote this song? Where did it come from? Where do you think? Holy shit, deep cut amazingness, check out Andy Kaufman singing I Trusted You. Bravo, bravo, brilliant. At this point, there was only one thing missing from the Andy Kaufman oeuvre, Tony Clifton. Naturally, they brought out “Tony Clifton” to sing, but not before someone came out and said that the next guest doesn’t want any smoking while he’s out there. It played out a bit like this clip here, actually (I think there was a lot of YouTube research done for this entire night, actually). And yes, Clifton came out and sang “Volare” just like in that video. Then he started to more or less insult the band, saying he only liked one song, started singing “Tacos,” a weird, rare old Panic jokey tune. And then the show ended in absolute legendary fashion. Someone “in the crowd” started heckling Clifton, Clifton barked back, the next thing you know there was someone on the stage, storming the band, security hopping up to grab them and the band rushing off stage, truly “frightened” by the interloper. The band left the stage, the lights came up. Show’s over. A guy next to me, the guy who had high fived me at least 3 separate times during Surprise Valley, this guy looks at me and says “are they fucking with us?” I mean, at this point I was very aware that a good percentage of the audience had no clue what had transpired in that encore or the entire night. I mean, they saw a great show, but maybe they missed the performance, a true Andy Kaufmanesque piece of brilliance, undeniable one of the coolest and most unique things I’ve seen at a concert. When those lights came up I knew it was over, people cheered hoping they’d come back, but I knew that was it…. the minute those lights came up, I laughed out loud. Legendary! Are they fucking with you? Yes, yes they are. And it worked. Surprise valley, indeed.
This has been long enough, but I have to add that it’s fucking cold in New Orleans, low 40’s when we got out, and there were no cars back to town. Just like the getting in part, the getting out part was so painfully clusterfucky I had no choice but to laugh. Perhaps a part of the whole joke, the whole day a participatory absurdist joke, highly entertaining. brilliant to the last. We made it back to town eventually, George Porter was sold out, but we didn’t really care… walked back to the hotel and were in bed almost 24 hours to the minute from when we had arisen. A perfect day.
