Richard Marx And New Friends
On a sightly less serious or perhaps esoteric note than the tribulations of Brett Kavanaugh (http://theunfilteredpodcast.blogspot.com/2018/10/the-strange-case-of-brett-kavanaugh.html) and Vaclav Havel (http://theunfilteredpodcast.blogspot.com/2018/10/a-romanticists-revolution.html), I want to regale you with the story of how my otherwise placid Saturday burst with surprise and new experiences.
A few weeks ago, I was at Pizza Luce in Hopkins,MN doing some writing. I believe it was the "Love Letter To Literature" piece (http://theunfilteredpodcast.blogspot.com/2018/09/a-love-letter-on-literature-and-poetry.html) . Writing is never quite so joyous as when accompanied by an evening libation. Hemingway said to "write drunk and edit sober", so, following this injunction, I had the obligatory beer in hand.
Being the compulsively social person I am, I struck up a conversation with two lovely people who later introduced themselves as Mike and Maggie. "M&M", similarly lubricated by a glass of wine and beer, respectively, were wonderful conversationalists.
It was then that Keith Urban's hit #1 song, "Long Hot Summer" came on and filled any remaining void in the room and begged (at least I thought so) to be submitted as a talking point for the approbation of Mike and Maggie. I mentioned that the song was in fact co-written by my favorite singer Richard Marx (yes, the "Right Here Waiting" guy, yes the guy with the mullet) and I then proceed to (perhaps to their chagrin) give them an impromptu tour through the production and co-writing accomplishments of Mr. Marx through the last ten years.
My heart soared like a hawk when a random gentleman sat next to us said that Mr. Marx will in fact be performing at Fitzgerald Theater on November 3rd. It was Mike, I believe, who asked if we should go. I happily agreed.
When the evening approached, we met up at a Thai restaurant called Ruam Mit Thai,located just a block or so from Fitz. It was here I met Mike and Maggie's friend Carrie who had agreed to join us. We exchanged all the obligatory pleasantries (which in this case really was a pleasure) that are part and parcel with all new acquaintances while we waited for Mike and Maggie to arrive.
Once they did, we proceed to have what will surely go down as perhaps the worst dining experience I have ever had, culminating in the staff forgetting to put Carrie's order in and forcing her to wait 20 extra minutes after we had all received our food! It was quite disgraceful. Thus, they have incurred my wrath and displeasure which I may just express more fully in a later piece.
Anyway, we leave the restaurant and onto Fitzgerald we go. Upon arrival, I think I got a shot of adrenaline to my gut when I peered through the open door behind the bar that stands between the theater and the lobby and saw Mr. Marx's "band". Two guitars and 1 piano, accompanied by a projection screen that bore his face and social media tags.
The four of us took our seats and engaged in playful discussion with the fellow Marx admirers who had come to see him. One gentlemen in front of us (who was kind enough to take a picture of us), said he listened to Richard Marx while lifting when he was in High School on his Walkman. Perhaps, he dated himself more than he would have liked.
The lights dimmed and there was a wave of thunderous applause from an audience no doubt older than myself who had listened to Mr. Marx before I was even born.
There was a sizzle reel that came up on the aforementioned projection screen which chronicled not only Mr. Marx's own hits but, indeed the ones that he had written or co-wrote with other artists, such as "This I Promise You" (N'Sync), "To Where You Are" (Josh Groban) and many others.
The clip stops.
Then out he came.
I shall not soon forget the intoxicating combination of adrenaline, serotonin, and indeed juvenile euphoria not entirely dissimilar to that of a fangirl, that completely seized and overtook me.
He immediately reached for a sip of the martini that had been set up for him previously (libation seems to be a prerequisite of a kind in the performing of music as it is in the craft of writing), then commanding the guitar at his side went straight on to my favorite song of his , "Endless Summer Nights". Mr. Marx's voice was in absolute full-swing. That voice projected with the trademark rasp that I have come to know and love, but the sheer power of his voice is something I hadn't fully appreciated until seeing him that night.
He would then perform one of his newer songs (which he had "warned" us he would do) called"Turn Off The Night" before which he perched himself on his beautiful black piano and hypnotized us humble audience-goers with the revelation that he is going as strong as ever before in terms of sheer quality and emotional resonance. My own shameful admission is that I had never heard of this song before but have listened to it three times since that night just to give you an ideal of how charming the song was.
He also performed a masterclass in terms of audience interaction. My personal favorite moment was when somebody in the front row called on Mr. Marx to sing a Christmas song. A directive that was greeted with disagreement marked with a very slight tinge of hostility from the rest of the audience. Mr. Marx, in true form, said "it's barely freaking November and it looks like you've been outvoted". He did, however, regale us with a mesmerizing ten second teaser of "O Holy Night" and abruptly stopped to say, "that's all you get".
But, in my view, the true mark of charisma and confidence that he had and still has would best be exemplified by the following. He told the story of how when he was 12, his father (Dick Marx, who was himself a world-renowned jingle composer) took him to see Tony Bennett and Bennett stunned a young Marx by "unplugging", so to speak, and singing to the audience with no microphone.
Mr. Marx followed suite by unplugging and singing his 1989 hit "Angelia". Dear reader, I challenge you to recall a time when you were in a fully-packed house where it was so quiet, you may in fact be able to hear a pin drop. I had that experience for the first time yesterday. Not one word or noise from us in the audience as Mr. Marx magnetized the lot of us with nothing more than his voice and guitar, unaided by a microphone. Wow.
The last song that Mr.Marx sung was, of course, his most popular. The immortal 1989 ballad, "Right Here Waiting" on his guitar. At the close he asked us to join in and there we were. The whole audience and singer engaged in wonderful choral bliss.
With that, he thanked us for giving him the chance to play for us and bid us good night to the receipt of a standing ovation.
Thus, one of the great Saturdays of my life was formed.
Thank you Mike, Maggie, and Carrie for your wonderful opportunism in offering me in the chance to go and I look forward to the next adventure.
A few weeks ago, I was at Pizza Luce in Hopkins,MN doing some writing. I believe it was the "Love Letter To Literature" piece (http://theunfilteredpodcast.blogspot.com/2018/09/a-love-letter-on-literature-and-poetry.html) . Writing is never quite so joyous as when accompanied by an evening libation. Hemingway said to "write drunk and edit sober", so, following this injunction, I had the obligatory beer in hand.
Being the compulsively social person I am, I struck up a conversation with two lovely people who later introduced themselves as Mike and Maggie. "M&M", similarly lubricated by a glass of wine and beer, respectively, were wonderful conversationalists.
It was then that Keith Urban's hit #1 song, "Long Hot Summer" came on and filled any remaining void in the room and begged (at least I thought so) to be submitted as a talking point for the approbation of Mike and Maggie. I mentioned that the song was in fact co-written by my favorite singer Richard Marx (yes, the "Right Here Waiting" guy, yes the guy with the mullet) and I then proceed to (perhaps to their chagrin) give them an impromptu tour through the production and co-writing accomplishments of Mr. Marx through the last ten years.
My heart soared like a hawk when a random gentleman sat next to us said that Mr. Marx will in fact be performing at Fitzgerald Theater on November 3rd. It was Mike, I believe, who asked if we should go. I happily agreed.
When the evening approached, we met up at a Thai restaurant called Ruam Mit Thai,located just a block or so from Fitz. It was here I met Mike and Maggie's friend Carrie who had agreed to join us. We exchanged all the obligatory pleasantries (which in this case really was a pleasure) that are part and parcel with all new acquaintances while we waited for Mike and Maggie to arrive.
Once they did, we proceed to have what will surely go down as perhaps the worst dining experience I have ever had, culminating in the staff forgetting to put Carrie's order in and forcing her to wait 20 extra minutes after we had all received our food! It was quite disgraceful. Thus, they have incurred my wrath and displeasure which I may just express more fully in a later piece.
Anyway, we leave the restaurant and onto Fitzgerald we go. Upon arrival, I think I got a shot of adrenaline to my gut when I peered through the open door behind the bar that stands between the theater and the lobby and saw Mr. Marx's "band". Two guitars and 1 piano, accompanied by a projection screen that bore his face and social media tags.
The four of us took our seats and engaged in playful discussion with the fellow Marx admirers who had come to see him. One gentlemen in front of us (who was kind enough to take a picture of us), said he listened to Richard Marx while lifting when he was in High School on his Walkman. Perhaps, he dated himself more than he would have liked.
The lights dimmed and there was a wave of thunderous applause from an audience no doubt older than myself who had listened to Mr. Marx before I was even born.
There was a sizzle reel that came up on the aforementioned projection screen which chronicled not only Mr. Marx's own hits but, indeed the ones that he had written or co-wrote with other artists, such as "This I Promise You" (N'Sync), "To Where You Are" (Josh Groban) and many others.
The clip stops.
Then out he came.
I shall not soon forget the intoxicating combination of adrenaline, serotonin, and indeed juvenile euphoria not entirely dissimilar to that of a fangirl, that completely seized and overtook me.
He immediately reached for a sip of the martini that had been set up for him previously (libation seems to be a prerequisite of a kind in the performing of music as it is in the craft of writing), then commanding the guitar at his side went straight on to my favorite song of his , "Endless Summer Nights". Mr. Marx's voice was in absolute full-swing. That voice projected with the trademark rasp that I have come to know and love, but the sheer power of his voice is something I hadn't fully appreciated until seeing him that night.
He would then perform one of his newer songs (which he had "warned" us he would do) called"Turn Off The Night" before which he perched himself on his beautiful black piano and hypnotized us humble audience-goers with the revelation that he is going as strong as ever before in terms of sheer quality and emotional resonance. My own shameful admission is that I had never heard of this song before but have listened to it three times since that night just to give you an ideal of how charming the song was.
He also performed a masterclass in terms of audience interaction. My personal favorite moment was when somebody in the front row called on Mr. Marx to sing a Christmas song. A directive that was greeted with disagreement marked with a very slight tinge of hostility from the rest of the audience. Mr. Marx, in true form, said "it's barely freaking November and it looks like you've been outvoted". He did, however, regale us with a mesmerizing ten second teaser of "O Holy Night" and abruptly stopped to say, "that's all you get".
But, in my view, the true mark of charisma and confidence that he had and still has would best be exemplified by the following. He told the story of how when he was 12, his father (Dick Marx, who was himself a world-renowned jingle composer) took him to see Tony Bennett and Bennett stunned a young Marx by "unplugging", so to speak, and singing to the audience with no microphone.
Mr. Marx followed suite by unplugging and singing his 1989 hit "Angelia". Dear reader, I challenge you to recall a time when you were in a fully-packed house where it was so quiet, you may in fact be able to hear a pin drop. I had that experience for the first time yesterday. Not one word or noise from us in the audience as Mr. Marx magnetized the lot of us with nothing more than his voice and guitar, unaided by a microphone. Wow.
The last song that Mr.Marx sung was, of course, his most popular. The immortal 1989 ballad, "Right Here Waiting" on his guitar. At the close he asked us to join in and there we were. The whole audience and singer engaged in wonderful choral bliss.
With that, he thanked us for giving him the chance to play for us and bid us good night to the receipt of a standing ovation.
Thus, one of the great Saturdays of my life was formed.
Thank you Mike, Maggie, and Carrie for your wonderful opportunism in offering me in the chance to go and I look forward to the next adventure.
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