From: Wendy Lapides
Date sent: Tues, 14 Jan 2003
Subject: Fall River, MA Report
Fall River, Massachusetts 01/13/03
My husband John and I made the 20 minute drive from our house in R.I.
to Fall River, Mass. on Sunday night to see Our Boy. Fall River, once a
thriving industrial city, can now only be described as a tired old town.
We had never been to or heard of the Narrows Center for the Arts, but
following our Yahoomaps directions, we were not surprised to find
ourselves in a mainly deserted factory district down by the water.
We arrived about 7:15 for the 8:00 show, and waited outside in frigid
temps for the doors to open. I was happy to see that a line had begun to
form behind us, and from the bits and pieces of conversation that I heard,
the concert-goers seemed to be a group who had listened to Dan thirty
years ago, but hadn¹t kept up with his career.
When the doors finally opened, we traipsed en masse through dingy
stairwells, and up three flights of stairs. I had a vision of what it must
have been like being on the night shift at this factory -- who would have
guessed 100 years ago, what would be going on within these walls tonight!
The top floor of the building was divided in half length-wise -- one
side had artists¹ studios, the other, the theater. The platform stage was
back dropped by a view of the Braga Bridge, a sight much more majestic by
night than day. There were tables set up in front of the stage, and church
pews to the right and left. They served coffee and tea only--byob was
permitted. John and I grabbed a front row table a foot from the stage, on
the Lickettes side. The place filled quickly, and we figured there were
between 200 and 250 people. The scheduled show time came and went. Tension
and excitement mounted.
Finally, the band was announced, and had I been so inclined, I could
have touched each and every member as they ran out onto the stage. (I
*was* inclined but resisted). Dan wore black slacks and a shirt with dark
red stripes against a black background, which melted into one large black
stripe in the middle, and then back to stripes on the bottom. The
Lickettes, Robin and Susan, looked wonderful in black skirts and fishnet
stockings. Robin wore a red ruffled tank top and Susan, a gold lame, off
the shoulder number. The rest of the band consisted of Dave Bell on
guitar, Brian Godchaux on violin, and Paul Smith on bass. (Sorry boys --
besides Brian¹s hat, I didn¹t pay much attention to your outfits).
They opened with Canned Music, and went on to play Chattanooga Shoe
Shine Boy, Reelin¹ Down, Honeysuckle Rose, Blues for Dixie, I Scare
Myself, Barstool Boogie, How Can I miss You, That¹s the Smoke They¹re
Blowin¹, and Exactly Like You. A short intermission followed, (shirt
change for Dan) and they came back with Cowboy¹s Dream # 19, I¹ll see You
in my Dreams, Peach Pickin¹ Time in Georgia, ŚLong Come a Viper, Shootin¹
Straight, Evenin¹ Breeze, Capo on my Brain, By Hook or by Crook, Payday
Blues, and for the encore, (standing o) The Buzzard was Their Friend.
Dan treated us to all his tricks --yodeling, Dylanesque harmonica,
guitar slapping, dancing, drumming, long note-holding, and even a little
lead guitar. The girls were a pleasure to watch, with their table full of
tools of the percussion trade. They really seemed to be having a good
time, and everyone was appreciative of the audiences¹ enthusiasm.
My annual and much anticpated night of non-canned Dan was wonderful!