Lyle Lovett
The Bass Hall in Fort Worth, Texas
September 3rd, 2004

Reviewed by Russell Bartholomee



Seeing Lyle Lovett at Fort Worth’s Bass Performance Hall was a religious experience.  I know, I know, that’s a terrible cliché.  But you’ll have to trust me on this one.  I honestly cannot think of a better phrase to describe this particular evening.

Much of this may be due to the setting itself.  The Bass Hall, a world-class opera house, was designed with celestial themes in mind.  The front entrance is flanked by imposing and magnificent three-story statues of angels blowing golden trumpets.  The domed ceiling inside is painted to perfectly resemble the sky, and is ringed by a painting of large angel feathers (You can see for yourself at www.basshall.com).  But even setting the heavenly surroundings aside, this evening of Lyle Lovett’s blend of gospel, blues, jazz, western swing, and (of course) country music was utterly divine.

Gospel tunes served as bookends to the more than two-dozen song set.  The first of these was “Pass Me Not,” a gospel standard (and one of the only songs Lovett played that he didn’t pen himself).  Its pleading prayer was answered in the last song, “I’m Going To The Place,” from Lovett’s latest record My Baby Don’t Tolerate.  While Lovett has written and performed gospel-tinged music before, the results have often been tongue-in-cheek (as in his classic “Church,” the second song of the night).  In the Bass Hall however, the tone set by these songs was positively worshipful. 

But I don’t want to give the impression that Lyle Lovett just played church songs all night.  His very generous (close to three hours) set included all but two songs from My Baby Don’t Tolerate, and a horde of hits and gems from his previous recordings.  Classics like “That’s Right (You’re Not From Texas),” “Good Intentions,” and “This Old Porch” (co-written by Robert Earl Keen) were interspersed throughout the evening.  The crowd was treated to almost a half-dozen songs from Pontiac alone, including the haunting title track and (what may be the quintessential Lyle Lovett song) “If I Had A Boat.”  And if I’m not mistaken, he played a song that has yet to be released (and as such, I’m not sure of the title).  It’s a lovely song expressing gratitude for his long career.  In the chorus, he sings, “…I’ve been up so long on this lucky star, it could be all downhill from here.”

I, for one, doubt it.  The newer material held up beautifully next to these crowd favorites, a reassuring indication that Lovett’s songwriting has remained as strong as ever over his twenty-year career.  Recent compositions like “San Antonio Girl” and the gorgeous “You Were Always There” (co-written by Victor Krauss) were every bit as effective live as anything else in the Lovett songbook.  Though his music encompasses a wide variety of styles, Lovett’s distinctive vocals, quirky lyrics and trademark finger-style picking remain the common threads that hold it all together.  Every one of these songs would work with Lovett playing them solo on his back porch.

Even so, they certainly benefited from the excellent musicianship of Lovett’s exceptional band.  The ten-member choir (The Shannon Sanders Singers) that accompanied the band on several tunes didn’t hurt things either.  All totaled, Lovett was often supported on stage by twenty musicians and singers.  Every one of them gave a virtuoso performance.  Having two guitars, piano, mandolin, bass, violin, cello, pedal steel, a drummer and a percussionist to accompany him, Lovett was able easily to move from one musical genre to the next.  Every player was on top of his game. 

This was especially evident in “Good Intentions.”  Every player took a solo, one flowing effortlessly into the next. You haven’t lived until you’ve heard jazz cello and violin.  There were outstanding performances by Victor Krauss on bass, Russ Kunkel on drums, Gene Elders on violin, Buck Reid on pedal steel, and Jeff White on mandolin.  Honestly, I could gush about all these guys; but there are ten of them, so I’ll spare you.

But I would be delinquent in my account if I did not give special attention to John Hagen’s cello playing.  Solid all night, Hagen brought the house down with an extended solo on “Wallisville Road.”  Making ethereal and otherworldly sounds, the likes of which I have never heard, Hagen transported the audience to the middle of the desert.  Painting wind, dust and tumbleweeds with every attack of the bow, it was the most mesmerizing moment of the entire night. 

Between songs, Lovett entertained the crowd with some of the best deadpan comic timing I’ve seen.  Charming, nervous and eager to please, Lovett dedicated a song to his truck, apologized for drinking too much water, and waxed rhapsodic about catching up with his TV viewing on the satellite system on the Big Bus, a mode of transportation he highly recommends we all try.  But it was in dedicating the encore to his mother—who was in the audience—that Lovett had the audience most securely in the palm of his hand.  The tune, “Family Reserve,” is a lush and melodious litany of those in his family that have passed away, including the way that they died.  Equal parts mournful remembrance and hopeful anticipation, the song was evidently inspired by seeing old home movies his parents had taken over the years.  Having closed the set with “I’m Going To The Place,” “Family Reserve” was a fitting cap to a perfect evening. 

“…We’re all going to be here forever
So Mama don’t you make such a stir.
Now put down that camera
And come on and join up
The last of the family reserve…”

Say amen.

Jump Back To Top

Van Morrison
Molson Amphitheatre in Toronto, Ontario, Canada
September 3rd, 2004

Reviewed by Amy Miller

“I want to sing this song for you
I want to lift your spirits high
And in my soul I want to feel
The beauty of the days gone by

The beauty of the days gone by
It brings a longing to my soul
To contemplate my own true self
And keep me young as I grow old” – “The Beauty Of The Days Gone By”, Van Morrison


Waiting in anticipation for Van Morrison to take the stage at the Molson Amphitheatre in Toronto, on a beautiful end-of-summer day, was a sold out crowd of mid 40 to 60 year old fans, longing for the “beauty of the days gone by.”  It was nice of Morrison to show up, as it seemed that he really didn’t want to be here and couldn’t wait to leave.

Song after song in a remarkably short 1 ½ hour set seemed to be on fast-forward.  “No Pain, No Gain”, “Days Like This”, “What’s My Line”, and “Back On Top” were all played flawlessly by Morrison’s jazz band.  This was not a rock ‘n’ roll evening, it was all jazz.  Perhaps if this were not a polite Canadian crowd, fans would have booed when Morrison decided to torture his “Moondance” and “Have I Told You Lately?”

Even after all these years, when most rock star’s voices have shown the age of time, Morrison’s sounded as we had all remembered it.  The only problem is that he changed his tune.  Once again on fast-forward, these ballads were turned into jazzed up, snap your fingers melodies.  If he had played these songs in the way that we had all remembered them, it would have at least balanced the evening.  Come on, what happened to the man who claims to “want to sing this song for you… want to lift your spirits high."

To add insult to injury, Morrison, known to be the shy performer, could have made an effort to at least acknowledge the presence of his audience, introduce his band, say hello, goodbye, thank you, piss off, smile, or at least say or do something to create a connection with an audience who had paid up to $120 per ticket to be there, and expected a lot more.  After all these years of supporting his albums, I would have liked to see something of the personality behind the celebrity.

The real (and perhaps only) highlight of the evening was when the concert ended and Morrison reluctantly sang two encores, which finally got the entire crowd, for the first time, onto its feet singing “Brown Eyed Girl” and “Gloria.”  Perhaps Morrison should have started with these songs to get the audience in the mood.  It was like foreplay without the sex.  While the audience screamed for more, the houselights came on, roadies started packing the instruments, and the limousine whisked Morrison away to the place he obviously preferred to be that night.

Jump Back To Top