He loves life, folks, and he let it show
So yeah, all other dramatics aside, I got to see Jonathan Richman last weekend! It was amazing, you guys!
For some reason I never really imagined I’d actually get to see him perform live. I guess I just expected that he wouldn’t tour extensively, and even if he did he’d never come anywhere near Regina. I was prepared to drive all the way to Winnipeg (on a school night no less!) just to see him, but the late addition of a show in Saskatoon last Saturday night proved to be the perfect scheduling for me and my special lady.
If you’re new to the site we’ve talked about Richman before. The former lead singer for The Modern Lovers, a proto-punk band that never actually got around to releasing a proper record (their debut LP was cobbled together from demos) but showed all the promise in the world. Their track “Roadrunner” is an often-covered gem of the era, for example. Richman broke up the group before too long, reforming a new band under the name of Jonathan Richman and The Modern Lovers and drastically altering his sound. His music became primarily acoustic in nature, his lyrics moving even further toward the youthful exuberance that is his defining nature. It also marked the beginning of a remarkably consistent songwriting career that saw him tiptoe into latin, middle easter, and French music while still retaining his signature sound.
Appropriately enough we got a taste of all of that at the Saskatoon show. Well, ALMOST all of that.
Richman is a delightful performer. Much has been made about his quest for quiet, his penchant for playing as softly as possible while still being heard. He made that explicit to the Saskatoon audience immediately, partially because the size of the performance space at The Refinery confused him. He said it was just the right size to need a PA system but also nearly small enough that he didn’t need one. Throughout the show he wandered away from the microphone to sing and play more directly to the audience. It didn’t hurt the performance; he was right, we could hear him and drummer Tommy Larkins just fine without mics. At one point, however, he did pull the mic on Larkins’ kick drum back. I guess it was coming through a little too hot.
He clearly struggled with the necessity of the microphones. At the start of the show he and Larkins’ microphones and gear were pushed back ten or twelve feet from the tables at the front. He expressed concern, saying he didn’t like seated shows because they get too close to “an actual concert,” which he doesn’t care for. He was expecting people to come up and dance at the front and when they didn’t he dragged Larkins’ and his equipment closer to the nearest tables, bridging the gap between performer and audience. It made it feel more like the most talented friend at your party was pulling out your acoustic guitar and singing you some silly songs he wrote than a real show.
Actually though, that’s a bit of a misnomer. While Richman laid the foundation of his career with occasionally-silly numbers infused with the spirit of an adolescent boy his live set now is comprised mostly of decidedly grown-up ruminations on life, love, and society. Songs like “Her Beauty Not Of High Heels and Eye Shadow” and “Not So Much To Be Loved As To Love” are remarkably mature love songs, the former a paean to a decidedly contemporary woman, a story of ineffable attraction a younger man simply wouldn’t be capable of, the latter concerning a fully adult perspective on the importance of giving affection. “When We Refuse To Suffer” encourages the listener to recognize the importance of hardship and tribulation, seeing the upside and the learning opportunities in life’s more difficult moments.
As with many songs it also elicited a bit of a speech from Richman, who explained the (not much) deeper meaning of the tune and, making eye contact with everyone he could, implored the audience to take it to heart and live it each day. While he’s still a very funny and quirky person (qualities that bleed as much into his performance style and audience interaction as they do into his music) he also demands a kind of doe-eyed sympathy from the crowd; I suspect it has as much to do with his permanently hang-dog expression as it does with his legacy and songs.
His frequent speeches also came in the form of quick runs of Italian, Spanish, and French; for his non-English language songs he would often recite a key lyric before explaining exactly what it means in English and the sentiment underlying the song. A deft move, I suppose, ensuring that audience members that haven’t followed those tangents of his career will have more of a connection with the number.
Forming that connection is a vital part of his shows, it seems. While set lists posted on some fan sites show he plays some of his older numbers every once in a rare while that certainly wasn’t the case in Saskatoon; he seems to go out of his way to completely eschew his past. I think the oldest song he played was from 1998, going back just a quarter of the way into his catalogue. Once into the first of his three encores, Richman gave the audience a fairly extensive speech that I’m sure must be rather well-rehearsed by now about how a song is like bread; if it’s freshly baked and warm out of the oven it’s still appealing but if it’s been sitting on the counter for thirty years collecting dust you won’t want to touch it. Essentially: if he isn’t feeling a song anymore he damn sure isn’t going to play it. Shouted requests for everything from “Ice Cream Man” to “Roadrunner” (duh) to “Vincent Van Gogh” fell on unwelcoming ears, but the crowd didn’t seem terribly put out by it. How could you stay mad at such an affable fellow when he gives such a well-reasoned argument?
The nicest thing is that Richman doesn’t need to rest on his laurels. The highlight of the set was a new tune that must have stretched out at least eight minutes, a delightful story-song about how he used to frequent Harvard Square in Cambridge, Massachusetts while growing up. Sometimes his parents dropped him off, sometimes he would take the trolley, but regardless the hippies and artsy-types that held a kind of arts-based communion there during the 60s and 70s would always help “Show (him) the door to Bohemia.” It’s remarkably touching, honest, and illuminating; Richman admits to creating some pretentious poetry and also makes it easy to see where his journey to becoming the songwriter he is now and always has been really began. It’s amazing to think it took him this long to write it. To my knowledge it hasn’t been recorded yet and part of me hopes it won’t be. It seems like a song meant for the intimacy of live performance, a real piece of the artist’s soul that couldn’t possibly carry the same gravitas and tenderness it did on this particular Saturday night if it was shackled to tape for eternity.
If Richman thought the lack of dancing during the 90-minute show meant the crowd wasn’t appreciating as much as he might have expected I’m sure his mind was changed when the set ended. Richman and Larkins began to walk “off” the stage (behind a curtain), only to be urged back by a ravenously-applauding audience. That process was repeated twice more, with Richman registering a visible amount of shock. Saskatchewan may not make with the dancing, Jonathan, but that doesn’t mean we don’t love you.
Note: Below you’ll find three tunes Richman did play during the show and three I can only wish he played, a trio of his numerous songs about classical painters
Jonathan Richman - Her Mystery Not Of High Heels And Eye Shadow: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download Jonathan Richman - When We Refuse To Suffer: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download Jonathan Richman - Le Printemps des Amoureux est Venu [2:37m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download Jonathan Richman - Vincent Van Gogh: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download The Modern Lovers - Pablo Picasso: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download Jonathan Richman - No One Was Like Vermeer: Play Now | Play in Popup | DownloadOnce again: Jonathan Richman’s albums are available on the internet, sort of, even though he himself “does not participate in the internet at any level.” Check Vapor Records for links to physical purchases and iTunes seems to have the lot in digital.
