Chuck Berry - Nov. 14, 2012

I have more crap than I need; so for my 50th birthday I asked for (and got) experiences, including tickets to the monthly Chuck Berry concert at the Duck Room at Blueberry Hill here in St. Louis. Though my friend Dan tells me otherwise, I had not seen him before and, as he is 86, figured I'd better before he (or I, being an actuary and an old one now, I am well aware of joint survivorship issues) dies.

Between big name shows, gigs I've played, friend's shows, recitals etc., I've been to thousands of concerts in my life.

This was unique.

Chuck hit the stage a little before 10:00 after a competent but uninspiring opening act with a six-piece band that included son, Charles Jr. on guitar, and daughter Ingrid on harp (and a mean harp player she is too) and vocals. As Chuck wound up his Gibson ES-335, I immediately noticed something was wrong. There's no nice way to put this:

Chuck Berry, c. 2012, is bad.

And that's OK. (If you want a more generous review, see this month's Rolling Stone for his show in Cleveland). The voice is still there and his timing is impeccable, but, whether it is age or deafness, Chuck would often be a half-step off on guitar and not notice it (or worse, start tuning the guitar when he did). Occasionally those 86-year old fingers that taught generations of guitarists how to play rock 'n' roll would simply refuse to behave and earn a sad look from the Father of Rock 'n' Roll.

Every now and then though, it would all come together. Leaning against a pole at the corner of the stage, Berry ripped into "Around and Around" and a window into 1959 opened up for an entire verse, only to close again as he drifted up the neck.

His kids watched him like a hawk, gently guiding him when he got lost in the lyrics or the arrangement and always treating him with love and dignity. But make no mistake: he was Dad and, more importantly, he was Chuck Berry.

The crowd loved him.

Genuinely. They were on their feet after every song and despite the flaws, were having a great time seeing the legend. You can see what made the man a star beyond his voice and guitar chops. In his mid-80's he still has the stage presence and charisma of his youth, even managing about four steps of a duck-walk, not so low to the ground anymore, across one corner of the stage.

I don't think what I saw from the audience was self-delusion or pity. I think it was grace. Grace from an audience, some of whom are losing a step or two themselves, for a man who is being himself right up to the end and putting it out there for all to see. To paraphrase: growing old and playing guitar on stage is not for sissies.

Because, despite the fact that he has a criminal and civil record that would put many modern rappers to shame, we love Chuck Berry. We love him for being from St. Louis. We love him for bringing rock 'n' roll to white kids. We love him for a catalog of great American music. We love him for being a cranky SOB that wants to do thing his way without coming off as a spoiled prima donna. That I am hesitant about writing this review for fear that it might come to his attention and hurt his feelings should say something about the respect we as fans and musicians have for the man.

As you leave the Duck Room, next to the stairs is a black-and-white picture of Berry in his duck-walking prime.

Chuck, if you do read this, I want you to know that that's the man everyone saw on stage Wednesday night.

Rock of Ages

Ever wonder what happened to that little hottie from Steely Dan's "Hey Nineteen" that had no idea who Aretha Franklin was? Well she's 51 now. (For the record, I was 18 in 1980 and, thanks to the "Blues Brothers", damn well knew who she was.)

Other name-checked song subjects haven't fared much better:

Stevie Nicks's protagonist is on "The Edge of 48" (1981)

Kiss's "Christine Sixteen" is sharing her 51st birthday with Steely Dan's chanteuse (1977)

Alice Cooper probably sounds even more confused and conflicted singing "I'm 60" (1970)

Chuck Berry (who I hope to see next Wednesday - hang in there Chuck!) is now paying homage to "Sweet Little 70". (1958)

. . . and top of the heap, Jimmy Buffett's Pirate is now looking at 78. (1974)

It could be worse. The man who sang "When I'm 64" hit that milestone six years ago, but sadly two of his band-mates didn't make it past 40 and 58 respectively.