Mega Detroit Weekend, part 2

I promised a Michael Shannon/Jason Narducy review and by God, I will deliver. I better damned well do it before I forget everything about it.

After examining our respective sunburns from the Tigers game and me taking a shower to remove the sweat of sitting in the hot sun for three hours, we hopped on the Woodward Avenue light rail and took it up to Mack Avenue. From there, we walked up Woodward and saw, across the avenue, the immaculately dressed beautiful people walking the red carpet and entering the Detroit Symphony Orchestra' gala season opener at venerable Orchestra Hall. It offered a contrast to the musical event we were attending.

Up another block or so we reached the Majestic Theater, former movie palace turned concert venue. It was the first time either of us had been to the Majestic. At this point, it dawned on me with rude unsparing clarity that I should have downloaded (uploaded?) the electronic tickets before we headed out. It took me about ten minutes of fumbling with the email sent by AXS and downloading (uploading?) their stupid app and creating a password while becoming increasingly angry and flustered before I FINALLY successfully got the tickets on my phone screen. By the time we got in the lobby, I was so shell-shocked from the experience that it took me another ten minutes or so to get my bearings.

Eventually, I was able to enjoy the wide, dark wood lobby of the Majestic and the bar that stretched the entire length of the back wall. We bought two "cocktails in a can" (mine was some lemony vodka thing) and waited for the doors to open at 7:00. 

Somehow, I always forget that "doors open at 7:00" never also means "show also starts at 7:00" or even "show starts at 7:30." It essentially means, "you will be standing and sitting for at least an hour or more...waiting." That said, I suppose the wait just builds excitement and anticipation, so when the show DOES start, you are bubbling over with enthusiasm. So when opener Bobcat Goldthwait hit the stage to deliver stand-up comedy, we were all more than ready to be entertained. I was never much of a Bobcat fan in the '80s when he was doing the screechy voice thing, but he's matured into a damned smart, self-deprecating, and insightful observer of this fucked up world we live in--(and no more screechy voice). He took some hilarious shots at Trump, MAGA, Jan 6ers, and Jerry Seinfeld, before finishing his set with a vocal rendition of the Village People's "YMCA" done U2 style. An amused Jason Narducy accompanied Bobcat on guitar. 

(I was happy that Bobcat's anti-Trump material received rousing applause).

It was about another 20 to 30 minutes until Michael Shannon, Jason Narducy (bass), Jon Wurster (drums), and the rest of the band took the stage. I had heard positive feedback about their previous R.E.M. tribute shows, but this exceeded my expectations. [I'm writing this on my phone and I'm at 15 percent. Better hurry up]. Not only did the band blast through Lifes Rich Pageant, but they played 19 more songs including an encore. Shannon, who has made an excellent career playing mostly weirdos and oddballs in movies and TV, has the perfect mix of slithery eccentricity in channeling Michael Stipe. The show didn't end until a bit after 11 PM, by which time I was physically exhausted and my feet felt like tenderized meat. We trudged to the trolley line and caught the last one of the night to our hotel on John R.

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