BCE Blogs: BC Rocks

The Who Dat?

I think there's some sort of rule in this macro age of technology that says 5 minutes after an event, it's OLD NEWS. So it's crazy for me, a young buck champion of techno-journalism, to be writing 2 DAYS after the Super Bowl about the New Orleans Saints and The Who.

Oh, well. I've never been a fan of rules, anyway.

The only time I've visited New Orleans was when I was 14, the year my brother and I hopped a train there — by way of Houston — to Charlotte, N.C. to see our father. We were there only for one evening, but that traipse down Bourbon Street left a lasting impression on me, and at least a small corner of my heart has always been held for that city.

There was music everywhere on that sweaty July night, thick old blues and some rock popping out of the open doorways to every bar, through which went many party-hunters with plastic cups full of beer and Kentucky whiskey. And suggestive silhouettes in the windows ...

That's why I wept hard for the city during Katrina and still pray for them, and that is why I laughed hardily and slapped my table at the Ball Joint when Tracy Porter caught that interception and sped back 74 yards for the touchdown that demoralized those uppity Colts for the remainder of the game. Who Dat would win the Super Bowl and the entire city of New Orleans reveled.

The weight of that game for New Orleans put extra emphasis on the spectacle for the entire country, I think. That's why it was the most-watched TV program of all time. America was behind this underdog and everyone wanted to see the little guy bounce back by trouncing who many call the best quarterback in the league.

That's why The Who's Super Bowl performance was disappointing, to me.

Super Bowl concerts are important to music heads and rock history. For folks like me who are music junkies first and football fans second, the choice for the Super Bowl Halftime Show is usually more interesting than the teams that show up for the game.

The Who was a strong choice. A music legend for what promised to be a legendary game, in terms of Americana history. And paralleling the band "The Who" with the "Who Dat?" nickname given to Super Bowl first-timers the Saints was poetic. I'm a sucker for poetic. Also the band's rendition of its hit, "Who are you?" was quite fitting.

And the concert was good. Pete and Roger were at the tops of their games, still active and flashy even in getting old. The stage setup was amazing, especially the part near the end where the lights on that gizmo surrounding the platform where the band played suddenly showed a silhouetted guitarist seeming to mimic Townshend's signature windmill guitar strokes.

In any other setting, the concert would have been king-hell, but something very important was missing, I believe.

In most halftime shows, the stadium seats empty and the crowd rushes the field for a very intimate experience with the band. I'll never forget the Boss climbing all over people during his Super Bowl XLIII performance.

With The Who's massive stage getup, there was no room for people on the field. The Who were distant aliens who stepped out of their space ship for a quick chat via music. There was no connection to the audeince, and that left a big chunk in my heart. Because America is always connected for the Super Bowl, and with this year's underdog being the patron saints of our wounded city, we were even more together for this one. And music, the great uniter, should have been there to pull us together for a little flesh-on-flesh contact, and it wasn't.

Ah, well.

A terminal lack of a sense of humor

"Insanity is a terminal lack of a sense of humor."

I said that. Write it down.

When you can no longer laugh at yourself, you're in trouble. When things become so serious that they start to take over your every thought pattern, it's time to consider a quick injection of Lithium to even out the brain patterns and get yourself thinking clearly.

Very little in this world is worth falling to pieces over. Fret over things, sure, but just enough to understand the consequences and get things back in order, and then let it slide. Laugh about it as you take the next step toward regaining whatever foothold you lost ...

For example, look at the Tea Party fiascos. That's hilarious. A "party" founded as a raised middle finger to over-reaching, organized governing starting to implode because it lacks any organization. If the tea partiers could laugh at themselves instead of throwing stones at each other, they could ease the strain on their craniums long enough to get back to simply doing what they do instead of arguing about what they do. That thing is a marvelous counter-attack to Obama's trophy grassroots campaign but it's in danger of self-destruction because NOBODY'S LAUGHING.

The same is true in music. Look at those who have lasting power: The Beatles, The Stones, The Who, even U2 ... They're still around because they are able to walk the fine line rock 'n' roll struck between havoc and humor. These are the bands which tackle the most troubling social issues in our time but they remember that they are rock bands, the escape from all that mess, and they laugh in the face of trouble. The most impressive thing about rock 'n' roll is that it says, "The world sucks, but we're gonna have fun while we're going down."

For the most part, they don't shrug off responsibility — in fact, ol' Bono seems to take responsibility for every social injustice he can get his hands on — but they remember to celebrate even their successes and even in the face of failure, they celebrate being alive.

They never stop laughing, so they never stop going.

And woe to the bands (or politicians or anyone) who take themselves to seriously, place themselves on too high a pedestal and fall the farthest ...