Saturday, September 30, 2000
By NANCY STETSON, Staff Writer
Before Dan Fogelberg's solo concert began at the Philharmonic Center for the Arts Thursday night, a spotlight highlighted a simple wooden chair behind a mike. Off to the side sat a small table with a white coffee cup on it. Behind the chair: a grand piano, with rich, dark wood.
It was a set as simple as a Shaker house, and just as well crafted - a lot like Fogelberg's songs. American Indian-sounding flute music played over the speakers. A roadie came out and placed a 12-string guitar next to the chair.
Ten minutes after the concert was scheduled to begin, Fogelberg was announced. Maybe I misheard, but it sure sounded to me as though he was introduced as "Don Fogelberg." Dressed in a dark suit, button shirt open at the collar and sandals, Fogelberg stepped out to wild applause.
He set the tone for the night by saying, "It's just an evening with me, my guitars, and you nice people. I'm going to play some things you know and some things you don't know."
Throughout the evening the '70s troubadour alternated between six- and 12-string guitars and the piano. It was an eclectic, but mellow, evening, a nostalgic stroll through the songs of the past.
He played some of his hits ("Run For the Roses," "Hard to Say," "Longer," "Leader of the Band"), some blues, some music he'd composed in the Renaissance/Baroque style, and even did some country picking.
But the sound seemed off.
The guitars at times seemed too shrill on the high notes, too jangly. The piano boomed and echoed on the low notes and sounded tinny on the high ones, like a large-sized version of a kid's toy piano. (You just know the Phil wouldn't have a second-class piano on stage.) I couldn't tell if it was miked improperly or amplified too much, or if the problem could've been fixed at the soundboard with a few adjustments.
Fogelberg is a definite whiz on the guitar, but it wasn't until the end of the evening when we could clearly hear the bell-like tones and crisp guitar playing the way it should've been heard all night.
Though he played passionately, when he spoke with the audience, Fogelberg seemed somewhat distant, somewhat removed from it all. Maybe he's shy, or maybe it's just his stage manner. (It didn't help knowing that he'd canceled a "meet and greet" with fans prior to the show, and that he'd rescheduled an interview a couple times, then canceled.)
The show lagged in spots, but the hall, filled with loyal fans, was enthusiastic and appreciative. While Fogelberg had numerous hits in the Top 10 in the '70s and early '80s, his music is now relegated to smooth jazz and oldies stations, with the exception of "Another Old Lang Syne," which gets played every year in late December. And, he performs only 30 or so concerts a year, so fans don't often get to see him. (At one point he told the crowd that he didn't remember ever playing Naples before.)
Like Joni Mitchell, Fogelberg's voice seems to have deepened and changed with age. He could still sing in a falsetto, but with some songs chose to sing in a lower range.
At times his voice seemed raspy and hoarse - ideal for those funky blues songs he sang. Though critics may dismiss him as lightweight and sentimental, there were moments when he proved them wrong at Thursday's concert. Age has added some deeper dimensions to Fogelberg, and has reinterpreted his songs.
When he performed "Longer," a beautiful, lyrical declaration of everlasting love, he slowed it down a pace. It was heartfelt, and far from sappy.
He sang "Leader of the Band," a song about his father, and introduced it by saying, "If I'd been allowed to only write one song in this life, it'd be this one."
I felt bad for the people who left before the encore in order to beat the traffic. They missed the highlight of the evening: a powerful performance of "Same Old Lang Syne," Fogelberg accompanying himself on piano. He played it dark and bluesy; it was a moving and haunting interpretation of the classic.
