Singer Comes Alive In Hometown
Dan Fogelberg Puts On Captivating Show At Civic Center
June 17, 2003
By PHIL LUCIANO
Journal Star Critic

PEORIA - It would be as easy as it would be unfair to dismiss Dan Fogelberg as an oldies-act-in-waiting.

To be sure, you don't hear his '70s-ish songs anywhere, except for the occasional play on easy-listening stations. Though today's all-sizzle-no-steak pop music allows no room for introspective ballads, give credit to Fogelberg's light meditations for helping bridge the generation gap between the Byrds and Eagles - and they still can flex poignancy on their own.

If you only know Fogelberg, 51, from his timeworn hits sandwiched between the light-rock pap of Celine Dion and Phil Collins, you'd be pleasantly shocked to see him come alive before an audience - especially one stacked in his favor in his hometown.

Fogelberg thoroughly enchanted 1,600 spectators at the Peoria Civic Center Theater on Sunday night with a performance that went beyond solid and entertaining. In the middle of his captivating two-hour show, he delivered a two-part, bang-bang combination that ranks among the highlights of recent Peoria concert history. No kidding.

First, after dismissing his band to foray into a solo acoustic set, he clambered atop a bar stool and strummed his six-string. Fogelberg plucked through a brief, nimble intro that segued into the patrician paean "Leader of the Band." Delivered deliberately and methodically, the touching tune riveted the entire, darkened theater to a breath-holding hush, the silence broken only after the last chord ended and Fogelberg whispered, "Happy Father's Day."

As spellbound spectators exploded into applause, he put down his guitar, sauntered a few steps to a grand piano and delved right into "Another Auld Land Syne." An otherwise faithful rendition included a reworked refrain - maybe because he can't hit those high notes anymore? No matter - in which his beseeching keyboard noodling combined with a low-key vocal delivery (gone was the plaintive wail) to strike the image of an aging man searching to come to terms with a memory that not only won't go away, but periodically returns at different angles.

Otherwise, Fogelberg - still of the boyish, longish, part-in-the-middle black hair - mixed up a song list from his entire career.

He took the stage - late by 15 minutes, a high crime in Peoria - clad in cream trousers and sport jacket (but no tie). Without a word, he and his four-piece band launched into a spirited "Part of the Plan." For the rest of the first third of the show, the quintet bounded through Fogelberg's more easygoing material, including two new songs, "Full Circle" and "Reach Haven Postcard," which sounded much fuller and livelier than on his current, rather staid CD, "Full Circle."

The band, tight in its musical interplay and harmonies, played in a no-frills set-up, except for a couple of ethereal background light swirlings. The production was smooth, except for the switches to Fogelberg's solo set-up, then back to the full-band. The process was slow and clunky, prompting the crowd to chit-chat and thus briefly suspending the show's momentum. During that time, Fogelberg should keep the ball rolling by gabbing with the crowd.

Not that he doesn't know how to small-talk with Peoria. He peppered the audience with a few quick Peoria memories, including recollections of his first band, The Clan. "That's Clan, with a 'C,' " he deadpanned.

He later reminisced about adopting the Buffalo Springfield West Coast look of long fringe and moccasins. "I was the first Hollywood Indian in Peoria," he said, grinning. "And probably the last."

During his solo revue, Fogelberg's voice boomed through the theater, grabbing hold of nooks and crannies other acts leave unfilled. He knows how to play this place.

Later, he gave up the piano and acoustic guitar to bring the band back for a rocking half-hour. Taking up an electric guitar, Fogelberg charged the band through a driving set of uptempo numbers including "Missing You" and "As the Raven Flies." The best was the night's penultimate tune, "The Power of Gold," during which Fogelberg and his mates twisted through an extended jam centered on Fogelberg's fingerwork.