Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers
Beacon Theatre
May 21, 2013
The swarthy, fiftyish man sitting next to me kept mumbling and sighing impatiently. With his brushstache, he resembled a short, squat, ethnic Mike Ditka as one of the Mario Brothers. We were both among the forty or so people gathered in a drab room to get ready for our “re-employment orientation.” It had come to this.
I was laid off in April, after having a steady job at an ad agency for fifteen years. I’d spent the previous five weeks looking for work, but nothing was happening on that front. A week before, I was sent a letter from the New York Department of Labor summoning me to this orientation.
The rotund black gentleman who greeted us reminded me of the great character actor, Gary Anthony Williams (probably best known for his work on Boston Legal and Weeds), but without his hilarious, distinctive twitchiness. Things immediately got off to an awkward start when he apologized for being a little late, as they were understaffed — which would make number one on a list of things you never say to a group of unemployed people. It was only just over a month for me, but God knows how long everyone else was out of work.
Annoyed expressions and harrumphs soon filled up the room, which seemed to symbolize the dreariness of the space and the reason why we were all there in the first place. The late-middle-aged blonde woman with a perfect, agitated Long Island accent proclaimed, “You’re saying this to forty people who are jobless. You could hire some of us!” The fortyish black woman sitting behind her added, “I could start right now!” More harrumphing soon followed, including from me. Not that I wanted to work there, but it was more in solidarity for those who did. It wasn’t so long ago that I had nothing in common with these people. Now we were all strangers united by something that had gone terribly wrong in our lives, and making wordless, angry noises.
Perhaps sensing the growing Altamont level of tension, he quickly corrected himself, saying that they were understaffed because a lot of the employees had been sick. This defused the situation somewhat, but his poor choice of words, and everyone in general just being pissed that they were there at all, created residual bad vibes that lingered like a produce section gone bad.
The entire experience lasted barely an hour, but you would’ve thought Super Mario Brother was watching the full director’s cut of Heaven’s Gate. The final ten minutes was comprised of perfectly valid questions everyone had. Each inquiry was met by Mario with exaggerated sighs, grimaces, and whispered “enoughs,” “holy shits,” and “marones.” Was this guy the same way at his last job (s)? Maybe Mario’s attitude caused his current predicament?
It was tempting to do my best Warren Oates in Stripes and say, “Lighten up, Francis,” but truth be told, at that point, I wanted to get out of there myself. Besides, everyone handles setbacks differently. Ultimately, he was frustrated. We all were.
What does all this have to do with Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers?
I would see them at the Beacon Theatre that evening (I’d gotten a ticket a few weeks before being laid off), and after awhile, being unemployed makes you feel like you’re in a Tom Petty song. “The Waiting,” “Even The Losers,” “Hurt,” “Don’t Do Me Like That,” and many other of his tunes deal with the fear and aggravation that comes when life sucker punches you.
“In a world that keeps on pushing me around, but I’ll stand my ground and I won’t back down.” We’ve all heard “I Won’t Back Down” so many times it’s easy to miss that the protagonist actually has the balls to acknowledge that he’s been screwed around with repeatedly. But he has enough self-respect that he’s gonna keep walking tall.
That’s what stands out about Petty’s writing. It expresses vulnerability while also bursting with defiance. Even in the song titles. A perfect example is “Fooled Again (I Don’t Like It),” one of his greatest. The title pretty much says it all, the key word being “again,” admitting that he’s been fooled before. While the words “I Don’t Like It” are enclosed in parentheses, there’s so much anger in Petty’s voice they may as well be wrapped in a fist.
That kind of fighting spirit was in abundance the night I saw them. For a long time, Petty and the Heartbreakers had focused on the hits, which is a complete waste of one of the better songbooks in the history of rock’n’roll, and a band that covers as much ground as Keith Hernandez did at first base.
But instead of filling arenas with the same old sounds, they decided to do a five-night residency at the Beacon Theatre (the first time they would ever play at this legendary venue) and explore their entire catalog, with some inspired covers thrown in. This was Petty Paradise, Pettypa (even the) looza.
“So You Want to Be a Rock’n’Roll Star” started the evening off as a nice tip of the cap to one of their biggest influences, the Byrds. Right out of the gate, Mike Campbell attacked his twelve string with some Middle Eastern flourishes. There was enough Paul Butterfield Blues Band circa “East-West” in there, that Campbell conjured up Roger McGuinn possessed by the spirit of Mike Bloomfield. Mike Campbell isn’t a name you usually hear when guitar heroes are discussed, but for two hours his playing invoked that indelible line from Death of a Salesman, “Attention, attention must finally be paid to such a person.”
“Love Is a Long Road” was good, but basically served as a genial hello to the Full Moon Fever portion of the crowd. Next was “Here Comes My Girl,” probably my all-time favorite Petty tune. Like the studio version, instead of what would normally be a guitar solo, the band builds up atmosphere with Campbell repeating a haunting melody that uses Benmont Tench’s misty “Booker T.” organ as a raft to get back to the verse. Petty didn’t do the “Watch her walk” mumble that precedes that section (which sounds more like “What’cha want”) but they expanded on the ending with Campbell getting shimmery tones from his axe, while the rest of the band provided the mid-tempo groove.
“When The Time Comes” was the biggest surprise of the night. It opens Petty’s massively underrated second album You’re Gonna Get It! and mixes an ominous riff with a folky/power pop chorus. I figured they hadn’t played it in forever — meaning the mid-80’s. But afterwards, Petty mentioned that 1978 was the last time, when the album had first come out. Wow. To paraphrase another great Petty song, “I got lucky, babe.”
Booker T. & The MGs “Green Onions” was another exceptional cover, doubling as a showcase for keyboardist Benmont Tench, one of the masters of the instrument. Wearing his trademark dark blazer and a fedora, he looked like the President of the Leonard Cohen Fan Club. Campbell replicated Steve Cropper’s jagged leads, and quarterback Petty looked just happy to be there. It was such a faithful version you’d be forgiven to think you were at a sweaty club in the South around ’65 and not seeing one of the world’s most famous bands in the Upper West Side of Manhattan during the 21st century.
We remained in the South for “The Best of Everything,” a welcome obscurity from 1985’s Southern Accents. It showed off Campbell’s prodigious slide guitar skills and was also a reminder of just what an impressive balladeer Petty can be. A cover of Muddy Waters “I Just Want To Make Love To You” (written by Willie Dixon) was another Campbell slide guitar bonanza.
“A Woman In Love (It’s Not Me)” from 1981’s excellent Hard Promises proved a few things. First off, no one uses parentheses better than Tom Petty. It also showed how silly it was for them to not have played it in so long. Most rock songs start with rhythm guitar, then eventually there’s lead guitar, also known as a solo. This tune does the complete opposite. It immediately starts with Campbell’s instantly memorable wailing guitar melody, accurately capturing the feeling of rejection and setting up the classic first line, “She laughed in my face.”
And where there normally would be a solo, Campbell does a somber jangly rhythm to a mid-tempo groove, Tench’s organ neck and neck with the guitar, until Campbell and the rest of the band cede to him, with the organ cascading into the next verse. The solemn feeling from that section depicts loss as vividly as the lyrics. It’s almost like introspection you can dance to. Live, it hit all the same highs, but with the perspective of 30 years in the rear view mirror.
“Tweeter and the Monkey Man,” from the first Traveling Wilbury’s record, actually improved upon the original. It still had the same folky pleasantness juxtaposed with those darkly comic lyrics, but they added a Grateful Deadish section in the middle that suddenly turned the Beacon into Winterland ’77. The band settled into a psychedelic jam, Campbell’s liquidish leads invoking Jerry Garcia. Is there nothing this band can’t do?
A few songs later they made the Dead influence more explicit by performing “Friend of the Devil,” getting some of the biggest cheers of the night. Even more so than the previous Dead homage, Campbell’s performance was so completely Jerry it was like watching a séance. “Crawlin’ Back to You,” another stellar Petty ballad, had Campbell darting in and out of the song with some subtle, affecting leads. Phil Manzanera used to do the same thing with Roxy Music. In fact, it kind of sounded like Avalon-era Roxy, with some southern grit.
“It’s Good to Be King,” the title taken from History of the World: Part One by Mel Brooks (one of the funniest movies ever), just may have been the highlight amongst all the other highlights. This is another song that becomes a whole different beast when seen live. Despite the origin of the title, it deals with another down-on-their-luck character, someone daydreaming about a better, but unrealistic life. The epic guitar duel between Campbell and Petty increasingly got more intense, tapping at the anger and frustration (Petty’s bread and butter) boiling under the song’s resigned tone. It was also cool to see Petty take some leads, which he rarely does. Then again, when Mike Campbell’s in your band, why would you?
Tough act to follow, but “I Should Have Known It” kept up the intensity, especially the ass-kicking, Peter Green-era Fleetwood Mac rave-up at the end. It was the most recent song (from 2010’s Mojo) of the show, promising more good things to come.
The concert concluded with a quartet of hits. “Refugee” sounded just as urgent as it did in ’79, with the lyric “Everybody’s got to fight to be free” taking on a whole new meaning. “Runnin’ Down a Dream” is always a fine addition to any Petty set list. “Listen to Her Heart” is one of their most beloved songs, and deservedly so. It’s yet one more ditty that’s simultaneously tough/tender and no matter how many times you hear it, never gets old –particularly Campbell’s closing, chiming solo.
This extraordinary night of rock’n’roll ended with America’s other National Anthem, “American Girl.” Since 1976 it has provided the soundtrack to so many good times that when people were standing up and dancing you could tell that depending on their age, they were either celebrating their Fondue and Egg Chair past, or iPhone and Twitter present. No matter how old or young you are that killer funk breakdown in the middle will always get you.
Walking down the stairs some guy yelled “No more arenas for those guys, only theaters from now on!” What he said.
A morning/mourning of dread and self-loathing gave way to a night full of life, celebration and loud guitar. It had come to this.