“I wish that I knew what I know now when I was younger,” sang Rod Stewart, halfway through Monday evening’s show inside HSBC Arena, while offering an interpretation of his old mate Ronnie Lane’s Faces track, “Ooh La La.” One felt obliged to tell Rod to flip that bit of wisdom around; we wish he knew now what he clearly knew when he was younger. Last evening’s gig inside HSBC Arena was bittersweet; sweet because Stewart, at 59, can still charm the pants off of just about anyone. Bitter because . . . well, it could’ve been so much more.
Rod Stewart emerged at the tail-end of the ’60s as English rock’s answer to the best R&B and Motown singers, stuffing up the upper echelons of the pop charts on this side of the pond. With the Jeff Beck Group, he created two of hard-and-heavy blues rock’s best albums – “Truth” and “Beck-Ola” – and helped pave the way for several generations of rock vocalists. With the Faces, he ruled the roost; that band’s sloppy-but-glorious rock ‘n’ roll will surely outlive everyone but the cockroaches and Dick Clark. Stewart’s earliest solo efforts, including the timeless “Every Picture Tells a Story,” are among the strongest of the ’70s. His ability to blend folk, Celtic melodies, and sweaty rock ‘n’ roll – part of which was due in no small part to the understated genius of guitarist and collaborator Ronnie Wood – made him wholly unique. And that voice . . . it was enough to make grown men weep, as if God had reached down and rubbed the finest of sandpapers on the man’s vocal chords.
Stewart’s artistic career train-wrecked around the time he released the dreadful disco in-joke “D’Ya Think I’m Sexy,” and it has never regained its sea legs. That said, seeing the man in concert has always been a hoot. He’s a born entertainer, ol’ Roderick is, and he knows how to split the difference between artistic excellence and tongue-in-cheek showmanship. Stewart stumbled upon a pot of gold when he released an album of American Songbook tunes a while back. The album sold in excess of 4 million copies, and another volume in the series followed shortly thereafter. Stewart had found a way to reach the portion of his audience that no longer went out to party, catch soccer balls, and rock out. He’d beaten both thyroid cancer and a career slump.
The tour Stewart launched in early February has been christened “From Maggie May To the Great American Songbook,” and it lives up to its name. Half the show rocked; half made me want to drink a martini and fall asleep. Looking half his age, Stewart hit the stage in a purple denim jacket and jeans, looking very much the tousled-hair rocker as he busted into his over-produced ’80s hit, “Forever Young.” Flanked by a crack band that included guitarist Jeff Golub, Stewart, for whatever reason, chose to concentrate on his ’80s hits, which were, for the most part, largely dreadful the first time around. The set list was pretty bad, but Stewart made it all seem like so much fun. His voice, a bit thinner following his cancer surgery, still emotes like few others in rock ‘n’ roll. His phrasing is wonderful, his onstage demeanor a pure delight. He sings with bountiful soul. That’s the only reason such second-rate material as “Rhythm Of My Heart,” “Young Turks,” and the Motown cover “This Old Heart Of Mine” still managed to sound inspired. It’s extremely clear that Stewart loves what he’s doing; this is no cynical ploy. And that counts for something.
When he dug deep for some of his most rocking tunes, no rationalizing was necessary. “Hot Legs,” “Ooh La La,” “You Wear It Well,” “Reason To Believe,” and especially a no-holds-barred take on the booze-fueled shuffle, “Stay With Me,” all kicked it, and kicked it hard. Stewart was having a blast, strutting like a peacock and offering every indication that he doesn’t take himself too seriously. It was charming, and despite the rather cheesy stuff that surrounded it, a rather smoking set of Rod rockers.
After intermission, Stewart came back in tux and tails, fronting his regular band with the addition of a nine-piece string section, a percussionist, and a swanky ’40s-era big-band stage set. “Someone To Watch Over Me,” “As Time Goes By,” “I’m in the Mood For Love,” “My Heart Stood Still” – these are all wonderful songs that others have sung much better than Stewart. He has little, if anything, to add to the ongoing conversation regarding the Great American Songbook. That said, Rod gave it his all, and at times, he added nuance and sophistication to his ever-present passion for this stuff. The crowd seemed to love it. Stewart, though, shouldn’t be doing this material. Of course, we are all supposed to bow down and kiss the ring of the great American composer from the “between the wars” period.
Here’s a thought: Let’s leave this material for a while, and move on. Nostalgia kills. Or at the very least, it amuses to death. Rod, we’re glad you enjoy singing those old standards. But we need you to rock. Hell, somebody’s gotta do it!
courtesy: Jeff Miers, Buffalo News
