We took a little time out this evening to enjoy the Eagles concert on NBC. It was great rock, skilled musicianship and splendid showmanship throughout.
The Eagles aren’t young, yet they exhibit all the energy and luster that catapulted their music to the top of charts time after time over two decades or more.
We noted a surprise, added bonus: the performers had microphones in front of them, but their faces weren’t obscured. And the singers didn’t appear to be trying to swallow their mikes whole. Bravo!
What a striking contrast with the current crop of of so-called pop entertainers, whose unintelligible noisemaking in combination with herky-jerky calisthenics is geared to the tastes of short-attention-span cases in grades 4 to 7.
Yes, we know; each generation must have its own music, preferably in a form that drives members of preceding generations up the wall. It doesn’t have to be good by any objective measure, just their own. We acknowledge, accept and regret that, all at the same time.
Memo to Britney Spears: We dare you to put on a dress, stand before a microphone, in a spotlight, and sing, say, “Someone to Watch Over Me” or “Since I Fell For You.” No workout routine, no squadron of strangely dressed and even more strangely choreographed Village People rejects gyrating in the background, no light show, no dry ice; just you, singing.
I don’t think Britney will take your dare. There is a divide between the lip synching, highly produced showpeople and the talented artists. I prefer Cheryl Crow myself.