Beck
at The Middle East Cafe
by Autumn Ober
The place was packed wall-to-wall with a hodge-podge of the obscene and the obnoxious. If you crave the eclectic, saunter into a Beck show – from drunken female thirty-somethings, to spike-sporting freaks. Be prepared to sweat too, and if you’re brave (or dare I say feminine?) enough to place yourself in front of the lineup (that would be smack against the stage), then intend to stay there for the duration (make sure to pee first).
The set got cut short (Blue Law time limits), but the songs that did get played left me with a newfound respect for Beck’s musical talents. He played the biggies off Mellow Gold (DGC), but the high point of the evening was the acoustic mini-set, complete with a solo harmonica jam that even outdid Dylan. Though his stage presence brings to memory episodes of the Muppet Show (remember the blond muppet with the big lips?) his repertoire of musical hattricks verges on the insane. He doesn’t blow out a set of strings per song by mere coincidence; the boy plays the shit out of them. Recordings just don’t do him justice; he has an improv style that’s only apparent on stage.
Rhythm and chemistry run amuck and he feeds off the energy of the crowd. Words like “tight” and “powerful” are useless – it was pure melée, engineered by a great sound man. Everything requiring electricity was unplugged by the maestro at one point or another, calling for lengthy hookups and instrument changes. He even played a guitar to death in the span of three songs (impressive, no?). The technical mishaps shortened the stage time, and were almost as annoying as the constant chain of personal notes being handed to the poor kid between songs. (Can we say TACKY, ladies?) Still, I’d rather leave a few songs short than watch a musician reciting material minus emotional theatrics. I still don’t recommend Mellow Gold – the album sucks as hard after seeing it live as it did before. But if Beck happens to turn up in your neighborhood in the near future, I suggest you grab a beer (hey, what the hell, grab a groupie, there’s plenty to go around), and witness him as he should be witnessed, live.
