Alejandro Escovedo can kiss my ass

Pete Yorn--"Rock Crowd" (mp3)

If you go to concerts enough, eventually you play every audience role there is--person who can barely see show from nosebleed or obstructed-view seat, gushing fan, disinterested observer, front row aficianado, drunken asshole shouting out lyrics, sign-carrying fanatic, earplug-wearing oldie, dancer, sitter, romancer. Certainly, I have been them all. Tuesday night, at the Alejandro Escovedo concert, I added another one. I was chastised audience member, the bad kid in school called out by the teacher.

Here's what happened: about 6 songs into the set, Escovedo strapped on an acoustic guitar and said they were going to do some acoustic songs, to which I yelled, "I Got Drunk." (sorry, factcheckers, yes, I typed "I Got Drunk" here, but yes I shouted at the time, "I Was Drunk"--was probably thinking, when typing, of that great song, "I Got Loaded") For those not familiar with Escovedo's music, this was not a statement about my condition, but the name of one of his quieter songs. I was about 10 feet away; there were about 60 people in the audience. Escovedo responded, made eye contact with me, "I'm glad that you know the names of my songs, but we have a setlist up here that we're going by, so yelling out songs probably isn't going to do any good." Or something like that. A hush settled over the crowd. Some looked at me. Clearly, I had done something wrong.

Now, I'm not even a big fan. I enjoy most of Mr. Escovedo's songs that I've heard, mostly through my friend Nick and a couple of CDs I've owned for many years. The only reason I named that particular one is because the Troutking had been following Escovedo's setlists for weeks and that was on it, so when he started his acoustic set, knowing the song, I figured that would be one of the songs he'd play.

Allow me to interpret Mr. Escovedo's words to me. Translation A: Kindly shut the fuck up from here on out. Translation B: I'd appreciate it if the rest of you here didn't request any songs either, since we won't be playing them.

I think both translations are accurate, the second one being the more troubling. And that's even though I get the whole artist thing, troubled or otherwise. I know that there are plenty of musicians whom I greatly admire that play pre-arranged setlists, sometimes night after night.

When I saw the Stills-Young Band back in 1977, during Neil Young's acoustic set, people were yelling and talking, and he stopped playing. "I'm sorry, folks," he said. "I love music too much." And he walked offstage. And maybe you're thinking, 'Right on, Neil, you're making a great artistic statement' and maybe I'm thinking, 'Neil, you're playing to 15,000 stoned people in a hockey arena. Do you really expect silence?' I remember Bruce Springsteen, during an acoustic tour, telling people not to clap along because it will mess him up, or, telling Madison Square Garden "We need some quiet in here" when he starts "41 Shots." I remember seeing Canadian folksinger Murray McLauchlan at the Main Point and my brother requesting "Child's Song" and McLauchlan snapping back, "My father died, I don't play that one anymore." It's unfortunate, but when a performer implies that his or her own self-importance holds sway or that the audience has done something wrong, collectively or individually, it destroys the mood.

How dare I call for a song that he's not going to play? My enjoyment of Escovedo's show ended right then and there. He shamed me. For no good reason. Because I requested a song. Frankly, he ruined my night. Because I asked for a song.

There are other ways of handling a situation like this. God knows, I'm aware that fans shouting out songs can be annoying. I've been that fan. But why not defuse it with a simple, "Yeah, we were playing that a few weeks back, but our setlist has morphed a bit." Or placate: "Yeah, we might be able to get to that later." Or collect all the requests like Springsteen does. You only have to play one of them to satisfy the crowd. And then move on. Because, otherwise, if you're going to state so unequivocally that you don't want any audience interaction in your show, then you end up in the land of Queen--we will rock you; you will not rock us.

And, by the way, Alejandro, it ain't like you were playin' Quadrophenia or The Wall start to finish. Or in Madison Square Garden. Nope, 60 people in a club. People who knew your music and the many phases of your career. In a very intimate setting. How many other artists, in that setting, might actually play to the crowd a little, bust out obscure numbers that only the faithful would appreciate?

SIDEBAR: From a review of an Escovedo show 9 years ago: "The evening's quieter, darker songs were equally effective and appreciated. A fan's shouted request for "Pissed Off 2 A.M." yielded a riveting mid-show highlight, as Escovedo somehow succeeded with the ballad (autobiographical?) of a failed rock star who realizes he's "too old to
wear leather pants." Another compelling original was Escovedo's
heart-ripping, liquored-up stumble through "I Was Drunk."

You know, I do arrange a few playlists of my own, Mr. Escovedo. And what's been deleted from the Ipod won't be making it onto any of them.

A couple of closing thoughts: Escovedo played about 1 1/2 hours, was done by about 10:45, so it's not like an extra song or two straying from the setlist for the fans would have caused his bus to be late to the next show or that, like the Dead or Springsteen with their marathon concerts, he had given everything he had. Ninety minutes. And, a woman later in the show put the name of a song, "Sad and Dreamy," on a piece of paper with a twenty dollar bill and got the song played, or so my friends tell me. I had moved way off to the side by then, unwilling waste any more of my hearing.

Alejandro Escovedo could learn a thing from Pete Yorn and his good little song.