The Fitz (Garrison Keillor's home theater) is a wonderful place for a concert like this. Anywhere on the main floor is intimate and feels up-close and personal.
I was not disappointed.
The first bit of fun is naturally the crowd. A group that comes to see someone like Arlo has to be a little, well, different. Arlo has been around for over 40 years (which he loves to make fun of.) He goes back to an era that is better in memory than perhaps it was in person. He certainly gets into that in the concert, of course.
There were those in the audience who were obviously hippies and former hippies, gray long-hairs and once gray and once long hair. Some of us even looked respectable. But you knew that under many of us was someone that would be surprised as we are that this is still going on, still attractive, still calling us from some depth of our past. There were probably a hundred different reasons for being there- memories, lost thoughts, or perhaps even fulfilled dreams.
There were younger ones, too. Some looked perplexed at why a parent would want them to be there. Some looked out of place; others could have come from the 60s themselves. There some with canes and walkers and wheelchairs. There was one who looked like an escapee from a Z Z Top concert.
But we were there for this 2 set solo show from someone as close to history as we can get.
Arlo Guthrie.
An almost magical name for many. Mystical. Arlo would probably cringe at that. But he represents something that hasn't died from those days. He represents the voice of hope and peace, the voice of protest and change, the voice of fun and grace. He has never beed the Big Star like Dylan, for example. But he has had something that Dylan never had- and never will. Personality and rapport with the audience. Dylan's a music god; Arlo is the musical everyman, one of us who appears as surprised as we would if we were there on stage after 40 years as he is.
In that may be nostalgia. It may also be way of getting in touch with our own past and aging melding together into who we are today. But it is also a moment that maybe, just maybe, the world is a place where we can still have fun while also doing what needs to be done.
Arlo is probably the consummate storyteller-songwriter. He blends them together so well we sat and waited for the stories with as much anticipation as the songs. If he hadn't stopped in the middle of This Land is Your Land we would have been just as disappointed as if he hadn't sung it. Likewise with the stories of remembering Leadbelly or searching for his grave in Lousiana or reminiscences of Woodstock along with modern stories of meeting Secret Service agents in an airport or his rambling about writing songs with a pen that catches them as they float by. I laughed more and deeper than I often do as his stories touched many funny places.
Then there's his still plaintive voice. When he sings his father's songs you can hear the echoes of that unmatched voice. But it is still Arlo's voice - charming, haunting, carrying over the audience with a sense of simpatico as they say in Spanish.
There's an aging to it, of course. It is edgier now, more down-to-earth than ever before. It has aged well. The late-teen young adult of Alice's Restaurant and others of the first 20-years is still there. That fun naive sound. But the world-smarts come through. He sings Leadbelly and we know he has grown into it.
He is singing for us, in our name and for our sake. He gets the smile, a grin at a personal joke or the pleasure of just being there singing for us. That only makes his voice more graceful.
A friend recently used the word grace to explain Arlo's popularity and presence. It was the word I had searched for over the years. It is the right word. I don't know how much of what Arlo shows is an act and how much is really him, the Arlo I would love to sit down and just spend time visiting with. (Arlo- if you are reading this, please note the request.)
I can go on for a long time about Arlo. He still represents to me what many of us in our generation still hope and pray for. But he does it with the humility of one who knows that it is more important to do the small things that work for peace than for the big things that only a few can do. He reminds us that doing good is not an option and that we can and should have fun while we do it.
And in the end, never take yourself too damn serious.
Arlo- thanks. Don't lose it. We still need you.
