NYClog Stardate 021405

[Velvet]

Years ago me and Dave heard that Les Paul holds down a regular Monday night gig in NYC, and we both thought that would be a cool gig to check out. Of course we never got around to it, and we waited patiently to hear news of his passing so we could kick ourselves and say damn, we shoulda gone. Now that we both have a little more time on our hands, the oppourtunity was nigh, so when Dave called me a few months back and told me Les Paul was 89 years old, we made plans to get down there soon. So on Monday morning my alarm sounded at 6am, and by 7:30 Dave, Lara, my friend JP and I were on the highway, aimed at a nation at war.

We cruised the border; always a heart-warmer, and 700kms later we were in the Holland Tunnel eager to get lost in Manhatten, which is exactly what we did for the next 45 minutes or so. Soon we wrestled our way through traffic to Central Park, and after a quick twenty minute search for a parking spot we were out on the street walking in the cold rain with warm hearts.

Our first stop was the Dakota. Though I consider myself a big Beatles fan I can't touch JP, a veritable amatuer Beatleologist. We walked to the door and the four of us stood there in rain and melancholy, silently taking in the scene where 25 years earlier Mark David Chapman shot John Lennon in the back five times. There was the concierge booth that John dragged himself to. Sigh, and double sigh. What a tragedy it was that occured here.

We crossed the street and entered the park, visiting the small memorial area called Strawberry Fields. The Imagine circle that is marbled into the path had a single fresh rose placed in the centre, a beautiful small reminder that the man will be loved for much time to come. Another sigh.

We had planned our trip to coincide with the disply of the new Christo art installation entitled The Gates. Christo is the artist who does those big exhibits like wrapping the Taj Mahal in fabric and covering a series of Carribean islands with paper. His new piece is a series of 7,500 steel gates that cover over 20 miles of the park, each with a large saffron-coloured fabric panel draped to seven feet above the ground. The installation was 26 years in the planning, has no official opening and is free to all. So, we walked through some of the gates. I was impressed, and I thought it was quite beautiful, but really, it seems any Christo piece is best appreciated in the macro. Though I'm glad I was there, I think the inevitable coffee-table book will be more impressive than actually being there. Especially at dusk on a rainy day. As we were walking out of the park two locals were walking in, and in a perfect New York accent I overheard the lady express her (and likely most New Yorkers) opinion of the piece in the simple statement, "Nice bloody orange curtains."

With several hours to kill before the show, we sought parking near the venue and walked to Times Square. Taking in the enormity of it, JP mentioned that he could understand the locals view of the Christo piece as a bunch of boring curtains when they daily walk through this mass of visual and audio input without batting an eye. To us touristos the whole thing is pretty amazing though. We found a place to eat and spent two hours lounging in the restaurant waiting for our clothes to dry.

We arrived at the Iridium at 9:15 to line up for the 10pm show and took our place about a dozen people from the door. JP and I left Dave and Lara in line while we went to feed the meter. When we came back Dave and Lara were gone, there were many more people waiting to get in, and the line had broken down to a couple of indistinct lines and pockets of people hugging the doorway. The Man came out and told us all to line up a certain way and all hell began to break loose as people loudly started to complain that they were here before everybody else. The Man was taking no sh!t, and as politely and firmly as a high school principal about to lose his temper, he systematically put everyone who approched him in their place, both literally and figuratively. I took it as my oppourtunity to act. Leaving my place in line I approached The Man and explained that the four tickets I had ordered were in my name and that two of my friends were missing and presumably inside, but could I please check that they got in okay as their names weren't on the ticket order, eh. After a short consultation with the ticket guy The Man told me to get my friend outta the line and go in to find my other friends. It was with extreme joy that I walked outside, pointed at JP and indicated that he were to follow me in. The crowd was unpleased, which pleased this little touristo all the more. We go in, find Dave and Lara at the front table holding seats for us, and order a beer from the dramatically overpriced NYC menu.

Soon, Les Paul came out with his band, another guitarist, a bass player, and a piano player. He took his place atop a high stool and they started to play. It was immediately encouraging that the music was really good; nice to know we were gonna hear good music and not just see a legend try to keep it together. As they tore through standard after standard (How High The Moon, Sweet Georgia Brown, Autumn Leaves, Sunny Side Of The Street, Satin Doll, 'Round Midnight, Blue Skies, etc.) I couldn't stop thinking that I recognised the other guitar player, and it was driving me a bit nuts. At one point Les (who was very talky between songs and seemed to be having a great time) addressed a guy in the audience who had brought a guitar with him (obviously in hopes of getting it signed). "You play?" "Yeah, a little" "Well, why don't you get up here and play a song with us?" "Nah, I'll just embarrass myself." Man, he wouldn't have had to ask me twice, and if I had my guitar I would've yelled out that I'll get up with him. I didn't, so I didn't.

Les had some guests come play with him, first a fiddle player from Chicago, then a harmonica player that plays with Bo Diddley. They were pretty good but I was blown away by the last guest, who was a young guy from Jersey who tapdanced. Believe it or not, this guy tapdanced along with the band for three tunes and he was awesome.

After about 75 minutes or so Les bid us all good night and the band left the stage. The announcer said that Les was sorry but he would not be doing an autograph session this night. That was too bad, as Dave and I had both brought official Les Paul pickguards in hopes of getting Les to sign them. As we were getting ready to leave I noticed the other guitar player packing his gear so I went up and introduced myself. I told him I was sure I had seen him before and asked who else he played with. Turns out the guy plays and records with Keith Richards and some other notables. He asked where I was from and told me he met his first wife in Ottawa. A few more words and I thanked him and rejoined my party. But I just couldn't leave without meeting Les. I grabbed the pickguards and went back to the guitar player. "Excuse me, I have a big favour to ask..." "No problem buddy, just go on back" he said, motioning to the stage door. Cool.

I went in and there was a half-dozen or so people waiting to talk to Les and get pictures and autographs and such. I was last and when it came time for my turn I walked up and said "Les Paul" (I addressed him by his full name on purpose just so that for once in my life I could say Les Paul to a person and not to a guitar), "it was an honour for me and my friends to come down to NYC to hear you play tonight." "Sit down" he said, and I sat on the couch next to him. Sitting next to the man who invented reverb. Sitting next to the man who invented multi-track recording. Sitting next to the man who invented the electric guitar. Is there a more significant man alive in music? I shook his hand, the one that was mangled in a car accident years ago, the hand he instructed the doctors to reset in a shape that would allow him to still hold a guitar pick. I got the pickguards signed (To Todd Keep Picking Les Paul), and even got my ticket signed for JP. Wow.

I rejoined the group and paid the bill ($43, which included a $23 "table minimum not met" charge) and we got in the car, aimed ourselves towards home and drove, arriving 26 hours after we left, at 9:30am.

It was worth every mile.

For the record, the list of music gear notables I have met is now Les Paul, Paul Reed Smith, and Hartley Peavey. Too bad Leo has passed on.

[bradm]

As bummed as I am that I didn't go along ::, I'm exhilarated at reading the story. So with the signed (nay, dedicated, personalized, even) pickguard, does this mean you'll be starting to use a Les Paul?

Aloha,

Brad

[AD]

WOW.

That's awesome Todd, nice work. Sounds amazing.

AD

[Velvet]

Nah, the pickguard is going straight to ebay.

Just kidding, I'm getting it framed.

[bradm]

I now have a vision of that poor little pickguard being dragged off to pickguard jail by a couple of burly warden pickguards, screaming, "I've been framed!", while a Stratocaster pickguard, probably signed by one of the guys in Good Charlotte, looks on with a self-satisfied smug grin on its face...

Aloha,

Brad

[Freeker]

You've hiked the Inca Trail, been to Machu Picchu, chilled with some penguins, been engulfed in a Christo peice and now you've not only seen Les Paul perform but met the man himself in person...What's next?

Kudos to Belbers for holding true to his New Years resolution and really coming alive in 2005!!

[Velvet]

What's next? Lunch.

Staying alive in 2005.

[PassedOutGuy]

Nice one Todd... im definitely jealous of your year so far... keep on havin fun man!