My friend Steve is an interesting boy.
Steve and I were comically mismatched roommates in college, he being the Felix and I the Oscar. Steve went off to Denmark for a study abroad and came back talking about this amazing girl he met there. We all rolled our eyes, of course. Oh yeah, a boy from Missouri and a Danish girl half a planet away. That's gonna work.
I recounted that story during my toast at their wedding two years ago.
For obvious, Denmark-based reasons, I don't get to see Steve very often. So I was really happy that he decided to turn a business trip to the States into a longer visit, including a few days in Chicago.
So during a nice dinner on Wednesday, Steve, Cille (the wife), her parents, my lady friend and I decided to meet up at Howl at the Moon on Thursday. And this makes part two of The Concert Project.
For those who haven't been, Howl at the Moon is a chain piano bar with a twist - two pianos. I've been at Chicago's Hubbard Street location once before and found the "dueling pianos" made a raucous, fun time too toe-tapping to be anything less than awesome. The last time I was there.
This time, not so much.
I mean, the piano players were very talented, not missing a beat or a step no matter what people requested. Musically, they were great. In terms of dealing with the crowd, eh. People skills like Nixon.
Maybe the way the one piano player kept expecting big laughs by replacing random words in the songs with "horny" or "horniness." And kept trying it even after it didn't get laughs the first few times.
Maybe it was the way the other one seemed to get really pissed off that we didn't, as she put it, "go apeshit," when she started playing "American Pie."
She got so mad she cut the song short, making an announcement to that effect, as if we weren't worthy of her piano rendition of a 1970s one-hit wonder song about the violent, flaming deaths of more talented musicians.
It was "Cougar Night," meaning women 35 and older got in free, as did men with valid college IDs. Luckily my grad school ID hasn't expired yet, even though I finished up in December. That five dollar cover would have broken me, I tell ya what.
Once inside, we decided that the crowd was not so much made of cougars (defined as older women who like younger men) as "future cougars" (defined as younger women who like dressing up for each other, saying things like "OHMYGOD! You look SOOOOO cute!", sipping high-alcohol-content drinks made to taste like candy, acting vaguely slutty and laughing hysterically at the one friend who acts the vaguely sluttiest).
To clarify: I had fun and so did the Danes. Just not for the reasons the overindulgent piano players wanted us to.
I was too busy talking with friends and laughing and having a fun time to be awed by their hot licks on the pianoforte. I selfishly was trying to talk to a guy I hadn't seen in two years rather than be flabbergasted by, "Did he? Did that piano player really say the word ... HORNY?"
Sometimes people don't want to sing along with "American Pie," God damn it. Sometimes entire crowds of people would rather enjoy themselves than obey your commands to join in on "Margaritaville." Sometimes we want to listen, not sing.
And apparently someone wanted to listen to "Piano Man" so much he, she or they tipped $100 for the pleasure. Apparently the PIANO BAR players don't play the song about a PIANO BAR without some serious cash behind them.
I can understand that. It gets repetitive. I mean, I used to give boat tours four times a day and we would often refuse to talk about the Sears Tower because that got old for us.
Oh wait. We never did that. Because that's fucking asinine. You work in a piano bar. You're going to get requests for "Piano Man." Suck it up.
And I don't know if it was just my mood at the time or if they actually were doing this, but the piano player seemed to sing it fast, short and nasally. The tipper wanted to hear the song very badly, so that's how they played it.
You cut our songs short if we don't "go apeshit" for Don McLean, but the person who sat at the bar and put bread in your jar gets sarcastic Billy Joel?
Man, what are you doing here?
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Paul Dailing
Paul Dailing (pictured standing in front of the World's Largest Boot), now has a different haircut. He's also lost a bit of weight since that picture was taken, but not as much as he likes to think. More
Comments
To describe Don McLean as a one hit wonder is indeed an admission by the writer of his own ignorance. Don McLean has for the past 40 years carved out a career world wide - not based on his one hit but indeed his wonderful talent to entertain. If American Pie was all there was to Don McLean his career would have folded years ago . Instead he continues to tour the world delighting sellout audiences. Perhaps the writer might like to listen to Crying , Castles in the Air , And I love you So and Vincent all hits for Don and others including Elvis and Perry Como.
Damn it. I hate being wrong.
I started typing a retort based on the fact that one-hit wonder means has one song that charted.(And that's all I meant, by the way. When I described him as "one-hit," I didn't mean that's all there was to the man. I just thought he only had one hit.)
But then I checked and a lot of those songs you mentioned also charted.
Okay, I suck.
But to say most people don't just know Don McLean for "American Pie" is pretty optimistic. And to say McLean didn't base a large portion of his career on "American Pie" is pretty naive. The name of Don McLean's official Web site is "Official Website of Don McLean and American Pie," for pity's sake.
Or to quote Don McLean, “So when people ask me what “American Pie” means, I tell them it means I don’t ever have to work again if I don’t want to.”
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