It's a lesson we learn again and again: having expectations will generally hamper the event, and having none will almost always enhance the experience.I had not even been planning on seeing Page's show on Monday evening at the venue formerly known as Irving, and thus a last minute phone call and generous offer (merci beaucoup, Sir Scotland) prompted me to come into Manhattan to see what Page would offer up.
The first thing I noticed (and loved) was the small but healthy crowd, which made maneuvering the normally-packed main floor a breeze. The next thing I noticed (and loved) was the swirly, shiny announcement raining down from the lightboard... yes, Chris Kuroda was in the house and providing free flashbacks for anyone who had seen that other band Page used to play with back in the day.
With those two factors duly noted, I turned my attention to the man on the keys, did a swift check of his band (all new faces to me), and took in a set that included most of the new material from Page's latest album. Which translates to, I nodded my head, I danced a bit, I yawned once or twice (and truth be told, rolled my eyes a bit during Maid Marion... I mean, c'mon Page, 'I'm not marryin' Maid Marion'? I think you can do better than that...).
But just as I was starting to think the set was going to be nothing beyond 'a pleasant way to spend Monday evening', things got cookin' toward the end of the set. 'Beauty of a Broken Heart' crescendo-ed into a wonderfully aweseome bubble bath of yum, with a peak reminiscent of (yes) that other band Page played with back in the day. Perhaps it was simply a matter of the band members finding their groove, but it sure would be nice if more of Page's new material were engingeered for this kind of peak-potential, because it was truly ear-to-ear-grin great.
Once all that goodness had been unleashed, he closed the set with a song that I can't believe isn't covered more often, 'Monkey Man', and floored the already-jubilant crowd. And then, to cap off that fierce double-header, he encored with his jazzy gem, 'Cars, Trucks, Buses' and cemented the feel-good euphoria we all took home that night. Was I expecting to take home a loot bag of smiles? Hell, no. But I'm glad I went in with the sole intention of being mildly amused, as I left rooting for a musician with whom I felt I'd lost touch. Nice catching up with you, Mr. McConnell. Hope to see you again... soon.
