Yesterday morning, we didn’t have to get up as early as usual on a Saturday morning, our farmers market day in Troy, NY. The night before, we stayed in Albany after dinner and a show with friends.
I got up early on my own and started writing in the hotel about the night before, the words flowing freely, words that were not kind or not very nice. By the time we pulled up to the farmer’s market, my phone must have been on the undo typing function and erased my post. I figured this was a sign, and I decided not to write about our experience until today.
I’ll start again and try to be honest and authentic, not mean. It was a disappointing night starting with a bad, under-par dinner at Dinosaur BBQ and ending with 3 hours of torturous, poor sound quality music.
I would rather someone pluck hair by hair out of my head and body for three hours than have to sit through that show again.
Look, I love all kinds of music genres and listen to music all the time, but this…oy vey! The show was held at the Troy Music Hall; Wikipedia calls it one of the country’s closest to perfect acoustical venues.
The venue was built in the late 1800s and is a beautiful masterpiece that takes you back in time. The venue was used in the HBO series shot back in May and June, called the Gilded Age. You can read all about it here.
As soon as we were seated, the opening act began. At first, I thought it was my hearing; then I realized it wasn’t just mine; it was the sound equipment. The vocals were drowned out by the musical instruments, which were two guitars.
I could not understand any of the lyrics because the vocals were muffled. I keep thinking, what the hell is the matter with the sound guy? Surely he could hear how bad it sounded? How could they fuck up acoustics in a close to perfect music hall?
The crowd’s energy level in the hall was non-existent; I tried to tune into the actual energy of the music hall to no avail. We were sitting under a big, black, negative, depressing cloud of sound. These two guys who were playing what I guess was folk music kept joking that they only had one happy song, which was called “Dark, dark, dark.” It sucked too.
At this point, both Marty and I couldn’t wait for their set to be over. They got a standing ovation, which was baffling to me. At this point, I never felt so out of place. A completely non/academic person, I would have felt more comfortable sitting in advanced college-level math or science class. I was a fish out of the water…a musical fish that understands musicality and sound. It was strange.
Lots of people didn’t come back after intermission. The two rows behind us were empty except for one couple behind me. The two guys sitting next to me dashed out in a flash. I thought to myself, “Oh no! What if the first act were who the people came to see and left?” I also thought maybe they hated it as much as I did.
Then the main act started. I told you I didn’t know anything about the artist Patty Griffin before going to the show. I should have done my homework and not have waited to be surprised. It was worse than the opening act. Today, just for the hell of it, I read past reviews before the pandemic; you wouldn’t know it was the same performer they were writing about.
The same sound equipment plagued Patty’s music as the opening performers. Her sound had no life and drowned everyone again in a sea of depression. Every single song sounded the same. I couldn’t understand one word she said. She was on stage for two hours.
What happened during the show is something that neither Marty nor I ever saw before at any event. Collectively, we’ve been to hundreds of shows but never saw so many people walk out of a performance. The woman sitting behind me kept whispering to the guy she was with, “This is so weird.” “Is there a new curfew we don’t know about?” “Why is everyone leaving?” I wanted to turn around and tell her it was because the show sucked, but instead, I kept my mouth shut just praying for the show to be over.
After her first song, 25 or so people exited the hall. After the second song, probably 50 more people left. Entire rows fled the scene. Song after song, people ran for their lives trying to get out of there. Some were laughing, and others had a look of panic like, “Get me the hell out of here and fast.” It was unbelievable, but I understood why they bolted.
Since we were invited to the show by our friend Martin, we were polite, sat in the now more than half-empty music hall pretending to clap after each miserable song. Martin wouldn’t have even know if we were polite because he was sleeping every time I looked 7 seats down from me. 😂
After the show, I thanked Martin for putting together a night with 8 friends. I know most of them felt like we did, but we didn’t hear them complain or bad mouth the show either.
When we left the music hall, it was raining cats and dogs; pouring ridiculously hard, and none of us had coats to keep us dry because it was in the 70s outside. We had an 8-minute walk to our vehicles. We were like drowned rats when we got into the van. Luckily, we only had a 10-minute drive to the hotel. Those guys had an hour car ride packed in like sardines and had to sit in wet clothes. Ick.
Despite all the disappointments that happened, it was still a nice night. It was an important night because Martin invited us to join him and we all went. The only person missing was my friend Eileen, Martin’s wife, who passed away at the beginning of the pandemic on March 30, 2020. This was the first real outing for him since she passed away.
I wore my butterfly necklace to represent Eileen; I could feel her energy with us; this was just a symbol paying tribute to her. Her celebration of life will finally be held on October 30, their wedding anniversary. How horrible it had to wait so long because of Covid.
After having the chance to rewrite my review of the evening, I honestly feel like my friend Eileen, who was maybe the kindest person I’ve ever met, hit that undo typing button. I can almost hear her say, “No, Julz, be nice.”
So, in the end, my post is like other posts I’ve written…honest and things people are afraid to say. I’m happy to have been to that beautiful music hall and an evening with friends. I just wish I remembered to pack a set of knitting needles to puncture my eardrums during the show. Sorry, Eileen, my beautiful butterfly friend, but this would have even gotten a chuckle out of you too.
I’ve been to some really bad concerts but none quite as bad as your adventure. A Tod Rundgren concert down in Boston a few years ago comes close. My previously beloved Tod put on a terrible show. It was beyond awful. Half the audience abandoned ship before it was over. We stuck it out. I stuffed kleenex in my ears. It didn’t help. At least the meal after was good.
Dylan a few years ago in Bridgeport CT when he had Wilco touring with him. The crowd was clearly there for Wilco, who put on a very decent show, but once the old guy took the stage and started “crooning” out (yes, I’m being sarcastic) yet another indecipherable new version of an old (formerly beloved) beloved from his catalog, the exodus began. There’s nothing than hearing a once great performer mangle his or her own song that you used to adore. I’ve seen Greg Brown do it and have yet to fully forgive him. Crikes, even his own wife Iris Dement refuses to sing with him because in her words, “you’re always changing things around.” tThe great exodus continued until my wife and I decided enough was enough and bolted early with nearly half the venue emptied.