Richie Havens “On The Turning Away”

Five songs I’m looking forward to hearing again, in Newport.

I can’t say I had a ton of regard for the dehydrated Pink Floyd (no Waters). I mean, as my friend Brett said, “David Gilmour still knows how to play guitar,” but the music of “A Momentary Lapse Of Reason” seemed lacking to me, especially in the lyrical department.

But years later, I got turned around on the record, from a completely unexpected source.

I was in the wonderful town of Asheville, North Carolina, for their annual Bele Chere Festival. For a weekend, they close down several city blocks and put arts and crafts on the streets. And in each corner of the blocked off square, is a stage of live music.

I can’t remember whose idea it was to bop over to see Richie Havens. I don’t recall being a big fan or anything. But I appreciated that I was seeing a musical legend, and I knew he did some amazing covers of Beatles songs, so that was enough for me to stick through to the encore.

I knew the song from the first lyric. But I couldn’t place it.

Havens was doing this tune a capella, so there wasn’t a guitar melody that could jog the old sun-drenched brain pan. But I knew I knew the song.

It was a good 3/4ths over before I was finally able to recognize Pink Floyd’s “On The Turning Away.”

He was singing it, not like a Gilmour space-dirge. He approached the tune---with its lyrics about not turning a blind eye to the poor and marginalized---as a gospel song. And in that context, I got the song. I understood the song in an emotional way, in a way that moved me.

All credit to Gilmour for the point. All credit to Havens for making it.







Every year mvyradio heads down to Newport, to cover the Folk Festival. And every year has its share of anticipated performances. I thought I’d write this week about 5 songs I think I’ll hear in Newport, and what I’ll be thinking of as I hear them.

Vic Chesnutt “Sad Peter Pan”

I think this is the Vic Chesnutt I like the best. Not too much band, but not too too stripped either. A little melancholy, and little funny. Not too many folks can pull off a like like "I just want to be Aaron Neville." And I picture him on the record insert, in that green felt hat.

I saw Vic Chesnutt in concert, at the Grey Eagle in Asheville, North Carolina. Three things really stick out about the show, which was a co-bill with Kristen Hersh.

One was that she requested that song. They were both on stage for the whole show, each taking a turn singing a song, and part-way through the show, Vic turned to her and asked "What should I do next" and she was momentarily caught off-guard, but when she thought about it, she smiled and said "Do the 'pushing the paint around' song."

Vic Chesnutt is wheel-chair bound, due to injuries from a car accident, and he talked about it a bit from the stage, with easy humor, mentioning "I was drunk as a Coot." Who can say the word "Coot" in regular conversation? Whenever I hear the word "Coot" I think of Vic Chesnutt. Which is basically confined to times I watch Beverly Hillbillies reruns.

The third thing is that I remember what he looked like at the end of the show. After 90 minutes of being so at ease on-stage, telling stories and singing his songs, when I came time to exit the stage, he carefully wheeled himself off the small ramp, down past the front row of seats and off to the side of the stage behind a curtain. And because I was in the front row, I could see him back there, and I remember how small he looked. How, once he dropped his stage demeanor, he receded to someone smaller, less comfortable with himself. It was in his eyes.

And as much as I have romanticized a musicians life, I often wonder if that is really what it's like. If you truly get a high, a true happiness from performing, what are the other 22 hours of the day like?

Hear "Sad Peter Pan"