San Diego
Thursday, 2 August, 2007.
Three years and three months.
That’s how long it has been since Clay Aiken has appeared in a pop tour in the West. He’s been here in California twice since the Independent Tour in the spring of 2004, performing Christmas music in 2004 and again making a Joyful Noise --- two weeks after Halloween --- in 2005.
Except for his five song set on Jimmy Kimmel Live last September, I have not seen him in concert since November 2005, when he appeared as an angel who communicated a story through song, complete with actors and dancers and vignettes.
Twenty one months.
Too long.
Due to a last minute change of plans, I am driving down to San Diego alone this morning. (I’ll pick up my sister “Teach,” who is flying in from the Bay Area, at the airport when I arrive.) Without her lively conversation during the drive, I reach for my CD case for my favorite road trip music. What to listen to? Not A Thousand Different Ways --- I’m hearing those songs live tonight, after all. Maybe Greensboro NAT? Clay is never better than when he is “live,” so I have a special fondness for the concert clack.
I flip back through the discs a bit and see one I haven’t heard for at least a year--- Clay’s demos. I slip it into the slot and the sound makes me smile: it’s like looking back on an old friend growing up, knowing how far he will go. Here is the Vox in its inchoate form, somewhat naïve in interpretation and unpolished in performance, but breathtaking in its potential.
One thing strikes me: this is a gorgeous, though not fully developed, voice. Clay sounds so young. Well, I guess he was --- it’s been ten years since he recorded these tracks. Still, it’s awfully good to hear an early version of that gift, and compare it to how he has grown now. Even at 19, some of his interpretations were fantastic... (and some were not. *g*)
Ten hours later, now reunited and in our summer symphony dressy casuals, Teach and I enter the concert venue. The Embarcadero Marina Park, the setting for the San Diego concert, is truly beautiful. Surrounded by water (as Clay will note with mock trepidation) and with a soaring skyline as a backdrop, it is a surprisingly good place to listen to music. The acoustics will prove to be excellent from my seventh row center seat.
Waiting for the concert, I think back to the music that was the soundtrack for my drive… What a distance he has come, in his music and in his life.
It’s time. Jesse and Sean arrive on the stage, and Jesse tunes up the orchestra. The music starts, and Quiana takes her place, followed by Angela. It’s good to see them all. I am fond of Clay’s musical “family.”
And then… that remarkable voice reaches my ears before my eyes can capture him. Where will he enter? Stage right? Stage left? From the audience?
Now, look, there he is…
Unlike with some, there is no Aiken Fog for me: that dissipated when I had a chance to talk to Clay, person to person, three years ago. Instead, I smile, then I laugh, as if spotting an old and well-loved friend after too long apart. I see him clearly now.
Here he is: Clay Aiken, goofball and gorgeous man rolled into one, the snarky entertainer, the loving heart, the keen intellect and the singular talent --- all of a piece.
Ah, yes. Here you come again.
Clay’s dressed casually, wearing an outfit I’ve seen before, a black shirt with white pinstripes and jeans. He is no longer “built like a lamppost,” as I facetiously wrote in my first essay on this man and his music. Clay is now a “good-sized man,” as Jimmy Kimmel, a one-time foe turned friend, described him --- more substantial now, more mature in appearance, carrying well his quirky attractiveness.
Damn, he sounds good. Sometimes I forget just how incredible his voice is live and how consistently well he uses it. As he moves from "Here You Come Again" to "Everything I Have", I notice he sounds just a little bit tight on some of the high notes and transitions, as he sometimes does when he’s been off for several days. No big deal. This is where Clay’s talent as a song stylist takes over. (Watch his hands and face during the last verse of "Everything I Have": I suppose he could be thinking about Hot Pockets, but he appears for a moment to have lost himself in the song.) This man has grown exponentially in nuanced artistry from that long ago demo album, and his phrasing and his interpretation of the lyrics are excellent. He has such a beautiful instrument that I find myself silently saying, “Oh, listen to that” again and again.
After the comedy of “Guess the duet partner” at the beginning of "I Want to Know What Love Is" (it’s Quiana this time), I am reminded again of why Clay is one of my favorite soul singers. Time and again, some critic comes up with a ridiculous comparison to Barry Manilow (whose range, tone, timber and style is poles apart from Clay’s, not to mention his personal and musical background) instead of pointing to someone like Kenny Loggins, Timothy B. Schmitt or, especially, Steve Winwood, whose naturally soulful voices could be direct antecedents to many of the aspects of Clay’s voice.
Listen to how he riffs on the theme ---- that's derived from gospel, the African American church’s gift to music.
Listen to Quiana’s warm, honeyed alto, and then to how Clay supports her with his harmony.
And then the “battle” begins…
Listen to him dig deep down into his baritone range, then leap up to that high, pure tenor, soaring over, under and around her, as Quiana matches him note for note, two incredibly powerful and gifted singers at play.
And oh how they soar in song. Church, take me home! I have heard this style before: if it was Sunday morning, they’d be finding every aspect of the name of Jesus, turning two syllables into ten minutes of testimony. In a pop concert, it’s just flat out fun.
It makes me smile how Clay uses his mic stand during this song: he slides it across stage as he approaches Quiana, uses it to emphasize the melody, sets the mic back on it as he lets the music move through his body, takes it with him as he moves over to sing a bit with Angela, grabs it to punctuate the beat, and ends with it right back in front of his seat at center stage.
Every time I hear Clay sing in this fluid green-eyed soul style, I think that, since Clay was mandated an album of covers, I would have loved to hear him sing “Higher Love.”
Clay and Co. have settled in and are having fun now. He greets us, and talks a little bit about what they’ve been up to. He goes from the sunny "When I See You Smile", to the soul-inflected pop of "Everytime You Go Away" --- and then to the soaring anthem of “The West Wing.”
TV Medley. It’s a joy to watch Clay feel the music with his whole body. As he moves through this medley, he underscores a line with his impossibly long fingers, slaps his thigh to punctuate the beat, bobs his head, shifts his shoulders and stomps his big feet on the stage. How does he know this? Where did he learn to dance like George Jefferson, stirring up a riot of laughter even as I think, “Boy, that’s really good”?
It is both funny and eye-opening to see this man who says he can’t dance break out into such exuberant movement, “channeling Mother Jefferson,” being moved by the spirit --- comedic and impressive at the same time.
Yes, without a doubt, Clay Aiken can dance, in a style all his own.
He can improvise, too.
Here’s where Clay steps out into the unknown each night, in his ever-evolving banter sections, addressing the audience.
He’s observant --- so he plays with the idea of the venue’s table seating, with Angela and Quiana providing the call-and-response accompaniment.
“Are you okay?”
“Sometimes I get it in me.”
“You just let go, let God.”
“Let go and let God, yes.
That’s right.
“That time --- I was moving on that right then.”
“We felt it.”
“I think I hurt my back a little. I’m getting old.”
“Are you all right, do you want to sit down?”
“I think I need to, hold on.”
“Go sit down.”
“Didn’t you get the spirit --- TV does that. Even with these tables in front of you… you people are drinking, ain’t you? I feel like I need something right now… and I don’t even drink.
Sometimes these tables make people sit down the whole time.”
“Yeah.”
“Putting me to sleep, folks! Weezy just got up here on this stage and I channeled her. I channeled Mother Jefferson!”
“Mother Jefferson.”
“…these people on the sidewalk...”
(Screams from the side lawn.)
“They got the spirit in them, too --- ‘cause they don’t have tables and alcohol in front of them, that’s what it is. Did you have to pay for those seats?
“Don’t dance too much, ‘cause you will fall right in that water. They’re right up on the water! And you can’t swim? Oh, you can? Then I feel much better. Go on in.”
“Dive in.”
“Lord… Sometimes you get the better TV theme songs. Did you even know which one was ‘Who’s the Boss?’”
(Applause)
“Don’t lie.”
“Which one?”
(Someone from the audience shouts out the opening lines, getting it right.)
“Very nicely done. How many of these shows have you been to? Seventeen? See, ladies and gentlemen, this is how you get a good crowd at your shows. If you just bring the same three thousand people to every show, people think you’re popular. You can fool anybody! Bring ‘em everywhere. They’re not available --- hands off. Get your own three thousand!
“Okay, we’ll do another one, now that I’ve got my breath back.”
There are variations of this every night, but he’s so very good at playing the moment in this section.
That’s entertainment.
I’ve been looking forward to his performance of "These Open Arms". On paper, it’s a fairly generic power ballad, but from the first time I heard it, I wrote that it would be a very effective live song.
As he is wont to do, Clay brings a passion to the song, and it doesn’t come from wild gestures or shouting. There is an intensity to his demeanor, a sense of reflection on the series of questions in the lyrics, a commitment to love and support. As has sometimes been true in the past, Clay’s performance is much more than the song, elevating the moment to a high point in Act One.
WTLGD. I just love Quiana’s voice: arguably the most talented singer not to make the AI Top Twelve, she could wipe the floor with several of the winners and runners-up. I enjoy her in support and I look forward to hearing her solo every tour. I have never minded that she gets three or four minutes out of a two+ hour show: she’s worth the time and, speaking practically, her solos have served to provide Clay with a little breathing space in his extraordinarily demanding set list.
So I see how this decision was made: looking at the show as a whole, Quiana’s solo would provide a climactic, show-stopping moment to the first act and Clay would have another five minutes of rest before the second half of the show. I imagine he might have also thought that by leaving the stage during both Quiana’s and Angela’s solos, he wouldn’t distract from their moments.
When a significant number of people started leaving during Quiana’s performance, getting a head start on the bathroom and snack lines, he stayed right there on stage, moving to the music in the shadows, lending encouragement to his fellow artist and enjoying this stellar performance --- and the exodus ended.
I guess, in many cases, it hadn’t been necessary to walk out at all.
Second act, and into “Right Here Waiting.” This is not a favorite song of mine, in any incarnation, but I like some of the things that Clay does with it. Here, he treats his voice like a classic owner does his vehicle: he tries out how it handles, he opens up and goes full throttle and he downshifts to a smooth stop. Nicely done.
"Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word". I think back on the first time I heard Clay perform this song: at the Jimmy Kimmel Live mini-concert last fall, promoting ATDW. I was so glad to be there in that “first time” audience, listening to his beautiful rendition --- and laughing at that goofy cute face he made when he anticipated his cue and started singing too early. With some of those performances unreleased, I’m so glad someone got a little clack of that.
Tonight, something is ever so slightly off and the performance is good but not great. Still, I like the way Clay goes from plaintive to despairing to resigned in this interpretation. Three more nights to see him: I’ll take every performance for what it is and find what there is to appreciate in each of them.
Even including the remarkable "Lover All Alone", which will prove to be an important landmark in the development of his artistry, I believe Clay’s signature song has yet to be written. For now, after four years, the song that stands for Clay most in my mind is MOAM.
I remember that he fought for this song to be the title of his first album. I think about the standards he sets for himself, and how he has remained authentic in an industry based on illusion.
Then I just sit back and appreciate how he delivers this song.
I swear I can’t figure out why Clay ever sings a song sitting down. As he launches into MOAM, he starts to sway from side to side. He raises his shoulder on this phrase, and taps his foot against the rung of his chair on that one. He punches a lyric with his elegant hands, and strikes out the cadence of these words against the mic stand. He caresses the microphone as if it were the face of a lover… and then his voices just soars.
As the final notes fade, I’m thinking that Clay has never sung MOAM better than he has on this tour --- as an artist, as a performer and as a personal statement, this song says “Clay Aiken” to me.
Clay stands up and waves off the applause, introducing Jesse and then Sean, whose sister has come in from Dallas. Down front are some fans from Dallas, and when Clay asks if anyone is from San Diego, there’s lots of applause. He starts to tell about a fan in the Meet & Greet who he thought was from Canada because she said “Eh,” and as she starts to address him, he snarks, “Calm down, young lady. Last time I checked, my name was still on the ticket, not yours.” He’s cracked himself up with that one, and he smiles and says, “I’m kidding.”
Clay’s trying to make a point, so he turns to another fan --- he’s from Virginia.
“What’s on the top of the house?” Clay asks him.
“What house?” the man replies.
“Waddaya mean, ‘What house?’ A house! Any house!” As the laughter builds, Clay presses both palms to his forehead as though trying to push away the pain, and the laughs get even louder. God, he’s good at this.
“I’m going to go to somebody else, ‘cause that’s going to take you a while, I can tell.”
“Ma’am, what’s on the top of the house? Right, a roof.” (to rhyme with booth or tooth.) “Anybody else say it any different? Well, you say ‘rough’. I understand that you think you’re from San Diego, but I think someone fooled you. I think you might have been separated at birth from a Canadian, because you say ‘rough’…
She gave me directions today to tell that there’s some people in the audience that came all the way from Japan.
Where are they? I can’t see them…
And they’re apparently wearing, they’re fully dressed up in kimonos that they borrowed from the Benihana down the street. Oh, no, they’re real kimonos, you really wore them. Where are you, stand up? Oh, way in the back. Lord, you might as well have stayed in Japan for those seats! GoodNESS! Does the sound even make it back there? Oh, goodness… And there’s somebody else here from New Zealand, is that right?…
I hope you can hear back there. If you can, it’s because of Fern. Ladies and gentlemen, Fern Alvarez, he’s doing our sound, give him a round of applause. I’m sure you are able to hear, because he’s quite competent.”
And just as Clay says that, a helicopter flies over and drowns him out. Bwah.
He glances down, consulting the set list.
“I had to remember what song comes next. You take a week off and you forget things. Quiana, what do I usually talk about right here?”
Quiana hesitates, then says, “We never really talk right here…but I will say…”
Clay swings around and says, “Ladies and gentlemen, the San Diego Symphony! Give it up for them!
“We talked about how that last song was from the very first album, Measure of A Man, which came out in 2003.
(Applause)
And… then we did a Christmas album.
(Applause)
And… then we took a loooooong time off.
(Boos)
You think that was long, wait ‘till the next time! You keep sitting down in those chairs, there ain’t gonna be another album out ‘till 2012!”
He’s really laughing, enjoying himself up there, and the audience laughs along...
“Those tables, they’ll do it to you every time! And that liquor?
This song we’re going to do right now came from the last album, A Thousand Different Ways. It kinda became our favorite song to perform live.”
Honestly, I would pay top dollar to spend two hours just listening to Clay talk. He’s just that entertaining.
As Clay begins “Without You,” I think of how his pure and beautiful ballad voice is one of Clay’s greatest assets, but the way it is perceived is one of his limitations. He has such a broad range, with wonderfully supported notes throughout. He brings pain and passion and heartache to this song, interpreting it in the way of a young man who has lost his first great love, as opposed to Nilsson’s world-weary take. "Without You" shows off Clay Aiken, Song Stylist --- but it is just one song in one style, not the sum total of what Clay Aiken can do. What a shame that, after mandating eight covers for Clay’s sophomore album, RCA chose to release yet another power ballad as ATDW’s first single, and one that it still in frequent rotation at that. No wonder so many people wrongly think that that is all Clay can do.
I sigh a little, but I still love what Clay does with this song.
“So, that’s all we do. MOAM in 2003. ATDW, 2006. Right, ‘06. We do a lot of ballads, folks, we sing a lot of slow songs. Maybe that’s all I can do…”
(Nooo!)
“Well, see, I considered that as a possibility. As we were putting these songs together, I don’t really know any fast songs and much less a fast song to sing with an orchestra. When you have people up here with strings and oboes and French horns and cellos and violas, it’s hard to find a song that goes fast, because they don’t write any fast songs for an orchestra, do they?
Who writes a song for an orchestras, a fast song?
Oh, you’re helping me…
Can you think of anyone who writes a fast song for an orchestra?
Just talk amongst yourselves for a second. Mozart? Chopanisky? Scandawitski? Anybody, anybody…
Wake up, folks! Could you pass some of your alcohol up here…
Bach? We were going to do our Bach medley, but I messed up at rehearsal this morning, so we can’t do it. I went to Jesse and I said, 'Jesse, we’re just not going to be able to do fast songs this show.'
We’ve got the "Everytime You Go Away" song, that’s kinda, that’s a little…No, it’s slow, let’s be honest.
We’ve got the TV Medley, some of them are fast. But really, we’re not going to be able to do any fast songs, because when you have an orchestra on stage, especially for a summer tour, Christmas maybe, but in the summer, you just can’t find any fast songs for orchestras.
But Jesse, as he always does, argued with me, and insisted that he knew better. Now it remains to be seen in many areas whether he does, but in this one he actually found one song that he thought we might be able to do fast, but the problem became that I forgot to learn all the words.
So what I’m gonna need from you this evening, I’m gonna need you to stand up and help me learn the words of this song. Cause they’re on the floor here, and I can read a few of them, like the ones that say…”
And he begins to sing TWYMMF.
Clay leans over, “reading” the lyrics, and then begins to prowl the stage as he gets into the song. He “forgets” the lyrics as he approaches the chorus, and holds his microphone out for help (as he mouths the words perfectly.) It’s a clever gimmick to get the audience involved, and it gets better.
He grabs a page off the stage floor, singing the words for a bit, then leans over and grabs another. He strikes a Michael Jackson “Victory” pose, arms flung wide, turns to Angela and laughingly asks, “Is this how I’m supposed to do it?”
Everyone is clapping, dancing and singing along, as Clay grooves along to the beat. Fun song, nice performance.
“So, really, the truth is, you can do fast songs with an orchestra --- Don’t sit down! Do you know how long it took us to get you up???!!!"
I love Mock-Bossy Clay, simmering with indignation and exasperation --- until the smile slips through, revealing the joke.
“It never fails, when they’ve got tables in front of them, every time, every single time they got tables in front of them, they feel like they’re in their own kitchen! We gotta pump Valium into the crowd just to get you people up off the seats. What, Valium’s not the right thing? Fine, I’m going home. Prozac, would that work better? Well, you obviously know a lot about drugs, San Diego, so please tell me which one to use.”
Caffeine.
Coffee.
Red Bull.
"You would think alcohol would work! 'Cause you know some men in this audience are saying, ‘There’s not enough alcohol in this city to get me through this show.’ And we know why, we know why, it’s okay, ‘cause I’m not that cool. No, I’ve been told this my entire life, I’m not going to argue it any more.
Ladies and gentlemen, I hate to break it to you, I hate to break it to you, but I’m not that cool."
(Audience yells protests)
"Don’t argue with me, I’m kinda dorky. It’s okay. Angela, we’ve been together for four years now…"
Yes, four years.
"…And it’s time to be honest. Can’t say nothing?"
You’re cool.
"How long have you known me, Quiana?"
Too long. (Her mic cuts out.)
"See that’s what happens when you say mean things, they turn the mic off! How long have we known each other?"
A long time.
"Let me interview you like I’m on my talk show. Quiana loves a talk show! OK, how long have we known each other?"
Five years. Lemme say hi to my mama!
"And in the time that we’ve known each other, have you ever known me to be cool?"
Uh, once.
"So I’m really not cool., but you know what? I think that in order to be cool I have found, when you turn on the radio --- ‘cause all those people on the radio, they’re cool. Oh, yes they are! They are the pinnacle of coolness. Whatta you call it?"
Off the chain.
Off the hook.
Fa-sheezy.
"They are the coolest, on the radio, that’s why I’m not there, I’m trying to tell you, because I’m not. But I’m gonna be cool before this night is over, I’ve decided.
Jesse, if we could just come up with some cool songs, some songs that are on the radio, the songs that the cool people sing, and use the wonderful San Diego Symphony to help me sing them…
The ladies, you can help me learn to dance a little bit, learn the moves, know the right moves just a bit…
I thought that if I could sing these cool songs that these people sing on the radio, so I said, ‘Jesse, find the coolest songs you can find…’ "
And then Clay Aiken starts to sing “Baby Got Back.”
I’m laughing so hard I can barely hear him.
Angela sings “Like A Virgin” while Clay and Quiana Vogue, and then shows Clay a few moves while Quiana launches into “Bills.” Once I get past the absurdity of the idea of Clay going urban, I notice that he’s gone from a herky-jerky lurch and now he’s got a nice rhythm going. Hmm, not bad at all.
He hits his stride on “1999,” relaxing into the end-of-the-world party atmosphere of the lyrics. I remember his version of “When Doves Cry” --- completely credible until he started to ham it up. Yes, ballad-singing Clay Aiken can do Prince.
He sings “She Thinks My Tractor’s Sexy” purely for comic effect, playing up a cartoon cowboy version of the double entendre in the lyrics. It’s fun, but I’ve hear the 19 year old “Clayton” sing a pure country version of “Not Supposed to Love You Anymore” --- a few years later, he could have been successful in that genre, had he so desired.
Angela purrs her way through “Oops, I Did It Again” while Quiana and Clay ham it up, and then “rap star” Aiken segues from “O.P.P.” to “Yeah”, the second song as well delivered as the first is hysterical. He could do catchy Top 40 if he wanted to (and if programmers and his label would lift the lid on the box they’ve nailed him into), but his instrument is just to fine not to encompass a broader range of styles.
Then Clay brings “SexyBack” in a performance strictly played for laughs. No, Clay Aiken isn’t Justin Timberlake, as he likes to remind us, but if I wasn’t busy dancing along to JT, I’d be cracking up at the absurdity of these lyrics.
He does a bit of line dancing to a broadly drawn “Achy Breaky Heart” and then either salutes or tweaks Paula Abdul with ”Opposites Attract.”
The big finale for these Cool Songs is “Beat It” and Clay brings energy and conviction to the lyrics. For all the faux-Jackson moves, he really sounds great. It’s a dynamic ending to a segment meant to tweak Clay’s image, but which also shows that he can handle a variety of materials.
But the comedian has materialized on the stage again: as Clay comes out of his cool trance, Q & A tell him to “own it!” He strikes a gangstah pose and tosses out a bit of hip hop lingo.
So, is Clay Aiken cool? He’s cool, because he doesn’t try so hard to be. He’s cool, because he’s comfortable in his skin and can make a crowd laugh by making fun of himself.
I think he’s the coolest dork on the planet --- or is that the dorkiest cool guy?
And somebody please give Clay Aiken some uptempo songs that suit his voice and compliment his talents! When he gets into this music and forgets to mock himself for not being cool, he pulls off many of these radio hits as well as anybody.
Angela’s solo is next, and I think how she has truly come into her own during this tour. I’ve enjoyed her voice in the past, save two or three notes at the very top of her range that are too forced for my taste, but with “Listen” she has turned in a series of near-flawless performances well worth the standing ovation she receives nightly.
I have waited eleven months for the next moment to arrive. Clay is going to sing "Lover All Alone", the song he wrote with David Foster, but first he explains a bit about how it came to be.
“When we were putting the last album together, my executive producer Jaymes Foster encouraged slash nagged slash insisted slash forced me to write a song. I don’t consider myself a songwriter, I’m just a singer. Her brother, on the other hand is one of the most prolific songwriters ever…David Foster.
She suggested that he write a song and give it to me and see what happens. So, one day we were in the studio and she said, ‘David, write a song that Clay can write the lyrics to.’ And I said, ‘Uhhhhhhhh…’ And he said OK, he’s churned them out for decades.
So he sat down at the piano. Five minutes later, he has a whole song written. A whole song in five minutes. Five minutes, that’s how long it’s taken me to tell this story! And he’s already written a song! And I thought, ‘Well, OK, I guess I’ll take it.’ And I took the CD home and believe it or not, it only took me five minutes --- and seven months --- to write the lyrics to this.”
I’ll be honest with you. As much as I love me some Clay Aiken, if I thought this song was just okay, I’d emphasize the positive of him starting to explore the art of songwriting and move on from there. If I thought it was good but unspectacular, I’d talk about this great first effort and discuss the importance of artistic growth and exploration.
But "Lover All Alone" is the best song that Clay Aiken has ever done, featuring some of the most sensitive and nuanced music that David Foster has written in years. The lyrics are plaintive but never maudlin, with several unexpected turns of phrase that are usually the hallmarks of much more experienced lyricists. Clay sings with a spareness of delivery, an emotional honesty that is simply heartbreaking, with the mournful cello playing in counterpoint to his voice, then changing to a duet partner, the perfect match to his tone.
As I sit in the silence as the song ends, I feel a mixture of joy and ineffable sadness. I do not know if these words are true to Clay’s life, but there have been times when they have been true to mine. But I am happy, because I am seeing in the finest voice of his generation a truly fine songwriter as well.
Thank you, Jaymes. Thank you, David.
And bravo, Clay.
The silence is broken with an absolute explosion of applause. Clay quickly waves it off, almost as if he doesn’t want to take too much credit. Well, Mr. Aiken, your song is the highlight of the show. Forgive me if I remain on my feet a few moments more.
It’s hard to leave the mood of the song, knowing that the show is about to end. Clay acknowledges all of the fans, the first-timers and those who are at their “second, third or fiftieth show with us. We see your faces in our bus windows, in our dreams, in our nightmares…”
He thanks Angela, Quiana, Jesse, and Sean, who is new to the family.
And then he dedicates "Because You Loved Me" to the fans --- “it’s our ‘thank you’ to you. Thank you so much for being here, drive home safely. We love you.”
“I’m everything I am, because you loved me.”
And then the sky lit up, a beautiful firework display that still could not hope to match the brilliance of the artist on the stage.
Damn, I wonder if he needed any lighting at all? *g*
And then, with a two finger salute, he was gone.
I loved this show --- except for the ding dang tables.
Clay was right: Being seated at a table changed the energy of the crowd, as did the always-in-motion waiters, as efficient and unobtrusive as they tried to be.
If I was going for a casual evening out, enjoying the company of my friends while listening to music, sipping wine and eating cheese and crackers, I’m sure I wouldn’t mind. But for me, Clay’s shows are more interactive than that. Even in a soft rock symphony setting, and certainly without singing along through every song or acting like I’m supposed to take part in the onstage banter (hate.that), there are times when getting up to dance, rising in a spontaneous ovation or singing a chorus at the artist’s request calls for freedom of movement. I felt oddly restricted by the presence of those tables.
I’d love to see Clay with the San Diego Symphony again one day: they are truly excellent musicians. But if there are going to be tables, I’d rather go see Brian Stokes Mitchell --- he kicked ass in “Ragtime,” but I didn’t feel the need to get up and dance. *g*
There were more adventures to follow, at Pala, at The Greek, and at Indio. My sister and I made our way to the car, bypassing everyone lining up for the busline fingertouch. I’ve met Clay before, and I felt blessed enough.
I am glad people line up to see him. I am glad he always knows we are still there. But four years ago, someone handed me a M&G pass, I got a picture and an autograph, and I made Clay laugh. Three years ago, an industry friend of mine who knows Clay walked me into a backstage friends-and-family-only gathering, and my sister and I shot the breeze with Clay for ten minutes, person to person. Late in 2004, as a member of the BAF Los Angeles gala committee, Clay grabbed us all up into a photo with him and Diane, gave me a handshake and a hug. What more could I want?
I’d like to hang out with Clay, and argue and laugh and talk into the night. I’d like to have his number in my cell phone, and smile when I saw that secret number pop up on the display. I’d like to sit in the studio and watch him create magic.
But I know those things will never happen, so I treasure the moments I’ve had with him, and know I’ll take my place in the audience. If my sister and I not being there for a handshake gets him on the bus five seconds faster, well, that’s my little gift to him for all he’s given me.
Thanks, Clay. Good night and godspeed you on to Pala.
Pala
Friday, 3 August
Why would anyone attend more than one concert on a tour? I’ve done that for years with my favorite artists, seeing them two or three times when they appear here in this vast state. With the best of them, every show is different --- perhaps more often with Clay than with any one else I’ve ever seen.
Still, I expected Pala to be simply an “extra,” one more time I’d get to see Clay between my highly anticipated San Diego and Greek Theatre shows.
I was wrong.
Driving up from San Diego on a glorious, hot and sunny morning, my sister and I arrive at Pala and check into a hotel room that is absolutely gorgeous. Wow, nice place.
I wonder idly where Clay is, if he’s tucked away in a suite somewhere or hanging out in a green room. I smile, thinking there won’t be much chance of running into him in the casino! I’ve seen all kinds of stars in all kinds of public places, particularly in and around Los Angeles, but frenzy seems to rise up around Clay.
It’s not quite 1 PM. He’s probably sleeping, anyway.
We walk around a bit, checking out the layout. Looking through the wall of glass, we can see the concert lawn, set up for tonight’s entertainment. After grabbing a quick lunch, we decide to throw $20 away, so we enter the casino. Now, where are those nickel slots?
“Hey, you two!” comes a booming voice.
Oh, crap, what is it? I didn’t do anything!
It’s Jerome, walking over to say hi. The man has a memory like a steel trap: we haven’t seen him since a brief hello at Kimmel almost a year ago, but he asks Teach about her son (who is the same age as Jerome’s daughter), asks if we’re doing any projects for BAF, jokingly inquires if I’ve taken over Hollywood yet, and mentions a mutual acquaintance, who we will see tomorrow in Los Angeles. Not just faces, but details: no wonder he’s such an asset to Clay.
Flash forward to concert time: Teach and I don’t have seats together. Pala was so hard to buy for that we ended up with one ticket in the fourth row left and one ticket halfway back and in the center. Teach will start close, then I’ll take that seat for the second half.
It’s quite a warm evening, perfect for the lightweight linen I have on. The sun is descending, but there’s still plenty of light in the sky. I look around and notice the sage colored hills that surround the location. It’s going to be really beautiful tonight.
I sit and get ready for the low-key opening of "Here You Come Again". I’ve seen Clay rise through the mist, go on the hero’s journey from the back of a stadium, emerge from the Mother Ship and twice make a joyful noise, surrounded by children and Christmas trees. I like the excitement and the innovation, but this time there’s something I really enjoy about him simply strolling back into my life.
Clay’s dressed in a cream colored linen jacket, a pink and white striped shirt and jeans. (After a while, when he sits and crosses his legs, I see he’s wearing tan slip-ons --- and striped socks.) He seems relaxed and casual, playing with the song and holding one of the “here I gooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo”’s for about an hour and a half before throwing his head back and laughing. In this hot, dry desert air, his voice sounds just about perfect.
Next up are "Everything I Have" and "I Want to Know What Love Is", of course. (I’ve done a song-by-song recap, so I’ll move on.)
I’ve had a wonderful time at every Clay Aiken concert I’ve attended, but this night is special. Clay’s in great voice, the venue shines likes a jewel against the darkening sky and the atmosphere is energetic and fun.
It is about to get even better.
Clay takes a seat and greets the audience.
“Hello, Pala! Look at the energy out here this evening! It’s like it’s a different state from last night!"
They took away those tables.
"That’s what it is. Get rid of the tables, give people plenty of alcohol, let them drink it right here during the show… If you get ‘em drunk enough, it doesn’t matter how bad you are.”
It’s a PTA meeting.
"A what?"
PTA meeting --- party, talk and alcohol.
"Where do you come up with this crap? And some of them have had plenty of all of the above. Cause this is kind of a partying place, right? You went to the casino today, is that right, Quiana?"
Yes, I did.
"And how’d you do?"
I lost.
"How much did you lose?"
Thirty dollars.
"That’s a shame --- What? She’s lying? Did you lose more than $30.00?"
I lost like $30.95.
"How do you lose ninety-five cents?"
I don’t know, I don’t understand the slot machines, I just put the money in and I just keep pressing buttons.
Which one did you play? Angela asks.
Five cents.
I laugh loudly here. That's how I wasted my $20.00.
"You lost thirty dollars worth of nickels? Are you serious? Thirty dollars worth of nickels? How many nickels is that? That’s twenty nickels per dollar…"
But Jerome lost more than I did.
"Where’s Jerome? He’s done run away... Thirty dollars worth of nickels. Somebody do the math for me."
(Six hundred!)
"Six hundred nickels. In how long?"
I’d say under an hour.
“You put 600 nickels in that machine in less than an hour? They’re going to have you back all the time now. Forget Clay Aiken, we want the girl who spends the money! He takes it, she spends it!”
Laughter rings out from every corner and, looking across the stage, I see that the orchestra is highly amused, too, with several laughing out loud. Yes, he’s got them, too.
Clay turns to Angela.
“Did you go to the casino?”
No.
“Why not?”
When it comes to slot machines, I have bad luck.
“So does she, but she did anyway!”
Angela: But you won some back.
Quiana: But I lost it again!
Clay looks exasperated
"That's perfect. And you didn’t even have any alcohol."
None.
Angela hasn't been gambling, so Clay asks her, "What did you do today instead?"
I rested a little bit.
"You slept all day?"
No, not all day…
"Oh, I did."
Not like you.
That’s you.
"All. day."
Quiana’s trying to get Clay’s attention.
I have something to show you.
“You have something to show me. What?”
Up there. You see it?
“What about up there?” he says as he scans the hotel room windows that look down on the venue. “Oh, my lord…”
He’s spotted something in a window and, as he recognizes what it is, Clay breaks into an amazed and amused smile, laughter lighting his eyes.
One by one, members of the audience turn and look up, and an electric buzz of laughter starts spreading though the crowd.
High above the stage, looking down on the festivities, is artquest’s Flat Clay.
It’s been up there all day, ever since this morning.
“And what’s funny, you guys don’t know, but that’s Angela’s room. She carries me with her everywhere she goes. She just can’t get enough of me.”
Don’t believe it.
“Whose room is it? You carry that around everywhere you go?”
artquest answers: Everywhere.
“Why?”
artquest has fallen silent, so ncgurrl replies: ‘Cause you won’t go with us!
“How do you get it in the car? What do you do, just stick me on the roof?”
ncgurrl: You fold up.
“Oh, you fold me in half! Fold me in half. I don’t even get the respect… And throw me in the trunk!”
The entire place is just alive with laughter.
“We could probably save money on tours that way. We could fold you in half and throw you in the trunk.”
Wait a minute.
“We should shut up before we get ourselves in trouble and sing another song. How’bout that?”
Let’s do that.
It’s hard to pull back from the hilarity, but as Clay’s clear, rich voice rings out, I stifle the laughter and sit back to enjoy "When I See You Smile".
He gets to the words:
“There’s no way of breaking free
Then I see you reach for me…”
And he gestures up lovingly to Flat Clay, and the audience just breaks up.
He’s singing beautifully, really delivering the lyrics, but time after time he turns to serenade his cardboard doppelganger.
“One look at you, baby, can make everything alright…”
Is Clay the funniest singer in the world, or the comedian with the very best voice?
Certainly he’ll let this go. He sings a bit more, then moved by the passionate lyric, stands up and delivers the song right to the window above him.
Quiana adds her harmony, sounding terrific, and then they both turn dramatically to sing to Flat Clay.
At this point, the audience is paralyzed with laughter. How does he do this? How does he find just the right touch, deliver the perfect clever quip, turn away from the joke to sing with excellent command and stunning interpretation, and then return to an even funnier punchline?
I keep saying to myself, “Oh, Lord, this is unbelievable. I’m so glad I’m here. I am so glad I’m here.”
And on it went, with each moment better than the last.
.....
Second half, and it’s time for me to move forward. My sister and I stand to the side, reliving all of the funny moments and remarking on how “on” Clay is tonight, in every aspect of his performance. It’s one of those nights where the gap is closed between Artist and Audience, and it seems as though Clay is singing to and chatting with everyone there personally.
I’m looking forward to watching him perform "Lover All Alone" from up close. It is an intimate moment in public and, though I don’t know if the sentiment is close to Clay’s heart or completely the product of his imagination, after nearly a year the song moves me every single time I hear it.
It is so difficult to capture all that this song is: the spare and vulnerable vocal, the elegantly simple music, the yearning cello, the heartbreakingly intimate lyrics.
I want to hold on to this evening, but it is almost over. Clay’s giving the final acknowledgements, and he gives “another thank you to you, for those of you who have been to every single show we’ve ever done in our entire lives. I honestly believe if we sold tickets to the bathroom, some of these people would show up.
"We see you, and we know who you are, and we appreciate you so much, and we appreciate you even if it's your first time at one of these catastrophes..."
Yes, there is laughter right through to the end.
Clay looks around, making eye contact from time to time as he continues.
A memory strikes my mind. I’ve seen it remarked that Clay sometimes plays to people he recognizes, and in my own experience, that is true. During the AI2 tour, a stranger gave me her meet and greet bracelet in San Jose, and I snarked on Clay and made him laugh. At that concert, he spotted my sister and me in the audience, and played to us several times during the concert.
There was speculation at the time that Clay knew sign language, so at one point when he looked my way, I held up my hand in the sign for “I love you.” Clay signed it back to me, then touched the sign to his heart --- there’s not a word for word translation from American Sign Language, but that’s a way of adding a degree --- “very much.”
I got such a kick out of that, but in those early days I never found any video or photograph of that moment. It doesn’t really matter, as it lives on in my memory, but it would have been nice thing to have.
I drift back to the present as Clay begins “Because You Loved Me.”
Walking as he sings, Clay comes over to my side of the stage. There is no one in front of me, I must be at least six inches taller than the people around me and Clay is only ten feet away. He looks in my direction --- and, thinking about the words of the song, I put my hand up above my head in the “I love you” sign.
“Lifted me up when I couldn’t reach…”
In a fluid movement, Clay signs “I love you” back --- and then a fan approached him with flowers. The moment was gone in an instant --- but this time half a dozen clack gatherers captured it.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart. [/famewhore moment]
Curtain down on another evening of music and love and laughter.
As always, thank you, Clay.
See you in Los Angeles.
Postscript:
I didn’t see this gesture mentioned in other Pala recaps and I almost didn’t bring it up at all. But when I thought about it, it was not about Clay and me (I am sure I appeared as little more than an outline to him) --- it was an acknowledgement of the circle of love between Artist and Fan.
Here I am, with a successful career doing something I love, because of you and you and you --- and all of you.
Because you loved me.
Los Angeles
Saturday, 4 August
[Here are a few impressions, though I really wish I could have found time to write a full recap for this show!]
It has become a habit that when my sister and I are both in Los Angeles, we get together with a married couple who are our real life friends, and that is how we spend a sunny and lovely Saturday afternoon. We relax in their lovely backyard, enjoying a view of the mountains, and catch up while eating a delicious homemade lunch. Among the myriad aspects of their lives and personalities is their love and appreciation for Clay, so he’s just a passing part of a lively and interesting conversation. Our friends are also entertaining out-of-state guests, so it is fun to meet new people, enjoy the stories of their lives and listen to their points-of-view.
Two hours later, filled up with good food and great company, we head off in a three car caravan to the Greek.
The Greek Theatre is one of my favorite venues anywhere in the world. I’ve enjoyed many memorable shows there, some by legends and some by artists who have gone on to become legendary. I was thrilled when I learned that Clay would play there.
Our three little groups sit in different rows: my sister and I directly in the center, about fifteen rows back, our friends are two rows ahead and their guests are in seats near the front and to the right. We spend some time before the show waving to each other and posing for pictures --- the husband loves to record everything and has shared some funny and touching shots through the years.
I look around and notice that the first two sections and the wings on both sides appear full, though there are a number of empty seats farther back. Four shows within a couple hundred miles of each other killed the chance for a sell-out, because people from the Inland Empire to the east and the counties of Orange and San Diego and points south had shorter commutes as well.
It also doesn’t help that one of the biggest AC stations in the country, right here in Los Angeles, hasn’t played a thing from a CD that is a perfect fit for their playlist. Oh, well, I’ll save that rant for another day.
I forget it all when the lights dim and the music starts to play.
It’s a really good feeling to hear Clay in great voice as he strides out singing "Here You Come Again", taking possession of that legendary stage like he owns the place. He looks good, too, in a tan jacket, black shirt and darks jeans, and sporting his neo-Beatles haircut. Angela and Quiana are dressed up for the occasion, wearing pretty blouses and full skirts and looking lovely. I smile thinking how classy this whole affair seems, and wonder how long it will be before Clay pierces the veil of formality with some of his priceless humor.
Not yet.
Clay launches into "Everything I Have", and I shake my head listening to him. This is freaking gorgeous, so intimate and tender, a timeless love song. This is Clay Aiken, Classic Ballad Singer, and as much as I enjoy him rocking out a bit, I can’t help feeling thrilled to be in the presence of such an extraordinary Voice.
It’s a warm night, so Clay grabs a bottle of liquid sugar --- er, Vitamin Water --- and chugs it, making faces as he beings "I Want to Know What Love Is". Angela begins her part of the duet, and Clay stands up and prowls the stage in a slink, approaching her like a panther seeking a mate.
They’re getting playful now, as though both are determined to blow the other off their feet. Their voices swoop and soar and intertwine, and as Clay gets closer, Angela reaches a hand out and pushes him back. That’s not going to stop him: he continues this mating call of a song, easing his way closer and closer to her. It’s funny and sexy at the same time.
The song ends, and now Clay’s all hurt and indignant over the push.
“That was wrong. She hit me and I was sleeping!”
No comment. (Quiana gets the reference, and so does much of the crowd.)
“I’m very upset with the pushing! Your son’s here, your family’s here! Isn’t your daddy a preacher? Did he teach you to push people like that?
Angela: Ummm hmmm. (Perfectly underplayed.)
Clay just busts up.
You gotta defend yourself somehow.
“Like I’m such a threat!”
He turns to the audience.
“Is it hot out here?”
(Cries of “Take your jacket off!” getting louder and louder.)
“Good Lord, this ain’t the Spearmint Rhino, folks!”
(BWAH, that’s a strip club with signs along every Southern California freeway. Clay must have seen them from the bus. I think. *g*)
“This is a family show! Lord, half of you are married! Goodness, it is so hot out here.
Last night… we were a ways away in Pala, and it was nowhere near as hot there!”
It was hotter there.
“Maybe the audience was blowing more at us. Could you do that please? They were drunk last night, so we could smell their alcohol. We like drunk audiences. If you want to get plastered… Half the men in the audience are already starting to go there anyway.”
He strikes the aggrieved husband pose:
“’How can anybody get through this crap… Listen, listen… Barry Manilow. She drags me everywhere!’”
He spends a bit of time making fun of Quiana losing money at Pala, a nickel at a time, but finds something new when she mentions that Sean the drummer won money.
“Sean McDaniel on the drums. I hafta move because he’s kind of small. You won a hundred dollars? So I don’t have to pay you this week. That’s perfect! I should do casinos more often!”
Angela acknowledges her family: there are a lot of them, since they are local. Clay’s beaming with pride, saying that she’s really talented, and I imagine her family feels the same.
I find it fascinating to watch the casual command that Clay has on stage, to listen to the relaxed and conversational tone of the banter, as fresh as if he is saying it for the first time --- there’s a basic structure, but he is very good at improvising, and it is really impressive how often much of the banter is spontaneous and new.
As the theme of “The West Wing” starts up, I wonder how the TV medley will play here, knowing that there are probably a few members of the audience that work television and film. Clay handles the banter and the well-known themes like a master --- it’s a fitting and fun interlude, and there is something very fitting about hearing these songs in the city where so many of these shows were filmed.
That’s entertainment.
In this city where so much of popular entertainment is produced, we are treated to Clay Aiken, Entertainer, on display tonight. I wonder if there are any producers in the audience who think that all of Clay’s lightning-fast quips are scripted, or if they realize what a natural he is. Though I personally hope Clay doesn’t go the talk show route for another decade (except for an occasional guest host spot on ‘Kimmel’ *g*), I’ve seen more than enough to let me know that he would be very good at it.
Facing an unfamiliar audience, never knowing what might happen that he’ll need to address, being bright enough to find the humor in a casual remark and knowing how to mine every laugh out of the situation?
Live television --- and performance like tonight’s --- are like walking a high wire without a net.
I love being here to see Clay strike out across that wire, with no concern that he won’t make it to the other side.
He’s fearless like that.
He’s teasing Quiana for not hitting the high note in the “All in the Family” theme, saying that you can tell no one’s lip synching. He quips that it’s almost time for a break and he’s about ready to go get some of that alcohol himself, and he doesn’t even drink. He shimmies and shakes like a man having the DTs and gets another laugh.
And then he launches into a powerful and passionate version of "These Open Arms", delivering every word with utter conviction.
No problem, all in a day’s work.
Tonight, the first act feels like it lasted five minutes. There is so much to take in, so much vocal talent to appreciate, so many jokes that elicit soul-deep laughter.
The second act feels even shorter.
“Measure of A Man” is especially strong tonight, one of his best renditions ever. I watch Clay up there, completely in command. He might not care for L.A., but he is at home on stage at The Greek.
What else can I write about?
The hilarious “Guess who’s coming to dinner” bit, flirting with Angela while waving to her minister father, or Clay yelling “Don’t kill me, dad!” when he grabs Angela during “Baby Got Back”?
The expert delivery of The Classics Medley, part mocking and part mastery?
The raw emotion of "Lover All Alone", performed for the first time in the area where the idea of it was born?
Or Clay signing “Thank you” during "Because You Loved Me", with thousands of colored glowsticks waving to the beat?
I hold on to the last image of him tonight: a smile of deep satisfaction, a wave, a salute --- and then he is gone.
It was the show I would have wished for Clay, for his first time playing The Greek Theatre. He was just wonderful, in excellent voice, displaying perfect comic timing.
The Entertainer.
And, oh, how the crowd loved him.
The only thing I want for Clay the next time he plays The Greek Theatre can be summed up in two words:
“Sold Out.”
Indio
Sunday, 5 August
Perhaps it is the desert heat that marks a summer evening in southern California, and likely it is the casino setting, but I never thought that a summer symphony tour would bring out so many drunken… er, exuberant Clay Aiken fans. Tonight’s concert in Indio is my last of the tour, but I have not needed any liquid refreshments to relax and enjoy the show.
The venue looks like a college basketball court, but at least it’s not sweltering inside. Though the sun is close to setting, outside it is just plain HOT. Ever heard the expression “100 degrees in the shade”? That would feel like a cold snap, compared to the weather in Indio.
As at Pala, many of the prime seats front and center are taken by the Native American tribal councils who manage these casinos, with seats set aside for the high rollers who are emptying their pockets in the casinos. Tonight our seats are good, in the ninth row on the right hand side, just a couple of seats in from the aisle. As the lights dim, I look mournfully at an entire row of barren real estate, six rows back and right in the center. I consider trying to talk my way in with my (probably fake) Cherokee roots, but I don’t look the part. Thank goodness the tribe and the gamblers filled up all the rest.
Hey, there’s Clay! He’s starting in the audience tonight, strolling up the aisle until he’s just a few feet away from me. He is so close that I can hear his “bare” voice --- cool. Jerome moves swiftly to follow him, and if anyone thinks of trying a physical duet with Clay in that aisle, there’s no doubt that Jerome will quickly tap out the back beat on their noggins.
I settle down (as does he) for "Everything I Have". Okay, call me a big old romantic mess, but I have really come to love this song. Clay’s had a few moments of hoarseness during these shows, and I notice he’s swallowing a bit between verses, but he’s just shattering me with the vulnerability and the emotional accessibility of these words.
“If I could be the perfect man in your eyes
I would give all I have to be a part of your life
I could promise the world, but it’s out of my hands
I can only give you everything I have…”
They could just be words to him, but it is the work of the artist to convince me of the truth of what he conveys.
I believe him.
Clay is hot --- and, no, I am not just stating the obvious.
He is hot. HOT. HAAAAAAAAWT.
He stretches the word into such a raspy, guttural sound that it hurts my throat.
Unlike the Los Angeles area, which is semi-arid, Indio is in the desert and is just plain arid. Today it was 104 degrees, extreme enough to become fodder for Clay’s banter.
“Indians like it hot!” someone yells out. There’s a ripple of laughter.
Clay’s quick. “Well, this white boy doesn’t!”
Angela: This black girl doesn’t either.
The hoots of laughter ring down from all around, and the tribal group shows their appreciation. Clay says they’ll probably run him off, but tonight Clay’s a hit on the rez.
Throughout the TV Medley, the entire arena is on their feet, dancing, singing and yelling out to Clay. During the slower numbers, the NJU listen and applaud with appreciation, but when the tempo turns up, there’s no way to distinguish between fan and casual listener. He’s got everyone in his hip pocket tonight.
Once again, “Measure of A Man” is a highlight of the evening. I have appreciated this song since I heard the very first snippet: in addition to how wells he works it vocally and the story of how he stood up to a very powerful man in expressing his desire to use this title for his first CD, MOAM speaks to me about Clay’s integrity. It’s fascinating to me that, after three years, Clay is performing this song with more power and passion than ever. He has grown so much as an artist, and no doubt he’s learned many lessons about what it takes to remain true to one’s self in a competitive and sometimes ruthless industry.
Some of the orchestra members have been with Clay on previous nights, and at least one of them has been paying attention to the banter. Clay launches into his “No fast songs for orchestra” banter, and the cellist hands him a CD. It’s called 367 Fast Songs for Orchestras, a title that makes Clay laugh --- but not nearly as hard as he laughs when he opens the jewel case and sees that it is empty. It makes me feel good to know that the orchestra is having as much fun as the audience, and that they recognize Clay’s first-rate musicianship --- even when he pretends that singing is his hobby.
It’s been a rowdy crowd, with lots of yelling between the songs, so I’m a bit tense as "Lover All Alone" begins. This is a song that demands to be listened to, not used as background music for audience participation.
Clay begins to sing, and suddenly there is not a sound in the room except for his exquisite voice, a lonely piano and the plaintive sound of a cello.
For now, this is the last time I will hear this song, and I don’t want it to end… but there’s the coda:
Maybe I’ve convinced myself I’ve really been in love
But I’ve been wrong… all along.
And everyone there seems to understand what he means, as cheers rise and rise, and then grow even louder. I hate to let it go, but I’ve received the gift of four remarkable performances.
It feels like the show has just begun, but Clay is finishing "Because You Loved Me", and doing the final acknowledgements, listing the players one by one.
And finally…
“I’m Clay Aiken. Good night!”
He snaps a salute, signs “Thank you” once, twice, and then he is gone.
In the end, it doesn’t matter to me any more how Clay came to record these songs. He cannot control everything in his professional life, but this show, this tour belongs to him. On the stage, Clay is totally in command.
It is where he belongs.
Early in his career, I referred to Clay’s singular voice as a “blue moon wonder,” something marvelous and rare. I have seen him in concert whenever I could, but I have had to miss two tours that didn’t make it out West.
After nearly two years without seeing a Clay Aiken show, I have seen this summer symphony tour four times in four days, and come away with memories I will never be able to summarize in a recap. There are things I will write about, other memories I’ll smile when I recall and a few moments I’ll hold close to my heart.
But getting to see Clay Aiken, right here in my home state of California?
That’s the biggest blue moon wonder of them all. *g*
Safe journey, and come back soon, Clay.
I slipped behind the wheel of the car, knowing that the next destination would be home.
“That sure went by fast,” I said.
Teach sat for a minute before replying, “It always does…Too bad we couldn’t have seen him one more time.”
“Well,” I said, as I turned the key in the ignition, “we have five days. That should be plenty of time to make it to Cary!”
Postscript:
To my ears, Jesse’s orchestrations are superb. I think he is a serious talent and I am very glad that he continues to bring his impressive skills to Clay’s tours. As much as I enjoy S’von (especially on the pop tours), Jesse has become an able and affable member of the family.
Thanks, Jesse.
Quiana, always a stellar performer, has become a wonderful comedic foil for Clay, alternating from the Gracie Allen innocent to the long-suffering sister. With a quiet and more introspective solo than before, I was able to appreciate different aspects of her remarkable voice --- and, Lord, did she make me laugh.
Thanks, Quiana.
Angela has shone during this tour. She’s been given the perfect song for her in “Listen”, and I have never heard her sound better than she has this summer. And I just love the chemistry between Angela and Clay: part sly flirtation, part playful aggravation, part “How much will she let me get away with?” (as seen in the Indio slap-and-tickle fest), it’s sexy, but never raunchy.
Thanks, Angela.
And welcome and thanks to Sean as well for his able support. Though I never know who will appear on the next tour, I appreciated his musicianship.
It’s a hoot and a half to see this “family” on stage and, musically, it is entirely rewarding and often inspiring.
Now please bring back Andy and Daniel. *g*
Perhaps it is because I have worked for years as part of a crew in support of the headliners; perhaps it is because my brother is one of the “nameless, faceless” studio and concert supporting musicians whose talent and dedication allow the star to shine, but I deeply appreciate each and every person on the stage and behind the scenes at these “Clay Aiken catastrophes.” For me, they augment his artistry and they aid in his growth as a performer.
He wouldn’t be “Clay Aiken” without them.
I started this road trip of seeing Clay in California by listening to his demo albums. All those years ago, Clay sang that there is more to this life, and even if one is not talking about religion, indeed there is.
There is more than platinum albums and number one singles, as exciting as they are.
There is far, far more than fan wars and haters and parasites --- almost anything is more than that.
There is more than a label boss who lacks vision, more than program directors paralyzed by the format, more than deejays parroting the contemptuous phrase du jour.
More.
There are the simple blessings discovered --- or appreciated anew --- that are part of my journey.
There is my sister, my friend, my indispensable Clay companion since “Take.”
There are the people I’ve met on this journey, whose generosity to me and whose loving support of Clay have been a blessing to my life since the Summer of 2003, when I clicked a link that said “forum” and found a truly remarkable community of fans. As I am around less and less frequently, please accept my deepest gratitude to each and every one of you.
There is Clay and his Music, and the places that it takes me.
Thank you, Clay.
More to this life?
Oh, yes--- and Clay Aiken is a truly loved part of the More.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment