DEBRIS.COMgood for a laugh, or possibly an aneurysm

So, the concert was amazing. Three hours of Dream Theater is like six hours of any other band. The number of notes played is the same; Dream Theater is just a lot more efficient at performing them.

Three hours more than I ever attempt to hear in one sitting. I left feeling sated, but only if you have a sense of dramatic understatement. I wanted a second encore, but only because I wanted the band to feel that this audience, featuring me, deserved yet another 20 minutes of high-energy attack-rock. But I couldn’t actually take in any more music at that point.

We arrived at the Warfield about 15 minutes before showtime, to find 1000 people waiting to get in. The line snaked down to the corner, and halfway up the next block. I asked a member of the Warfield staff whether something had gone wrong — had the doors not opened on schedule an hour before, to allow these people inside? “It’s always like this,” he said, “every show.” I asked whether the crowd hadn’t arrived until later, causing a last-minute lineup. The guard corrected me: “People were here at 3pm.” As an explanation this only raised more questions, like “what sane person sits outside the club for five hours when all seats are reserved?” But we’d shuffled past the guard so I wasn’t able to ask.

The crowd was less homogenous than I expected. I thought there would be a lot of 20-something headbangers with tattoos, basically the raw ingredients for a mosh pit just waiting for amplified bass drums to kick them into flailing action. But the ages ranged from 14 to 60, and the mood from mellow to stoned. I didn’t expect to say this, but I fit right in. Everybody else was also a music geek.

The band was amazingly tight. Given the complexity of the music, this is a huge deal. I knew they could do this but still it was something to see it happen live.

My only complaint about the event is that the sound wasn’t great. I’ll admit that I’m relatively inexperienced with concert sound — maybe this was a world-class mix and I’m just too naive to appreciate it. Most of the nuances of the arrangements were lost in the sonic wash of guitar and keyboard. I knew the material well enough to hear in my head what I was supposed to be hearing in my ears, and the gap was large. The mix managed to reduce what I know to be utterly complex and musical and subtle to a beat-me-over-the-head redundant sameness, like “here’s a speed-metal thing again” and “oh, another guitar solo”, etc. Maybe live sound is never a match for the CD. I’m glad I have the CDs.

My favorite part of the show came in an improv section. The keyboard player and drummer played an extended call-and-response thing that I thought was incredibly cool. I have a long-time fondness for call-and-response; one of my favorite moments with my old band was trading fours with the guitarist during a Stevie Ray Vaughan tune, an improvised blues-rock duet for guitar and drums. We kicked ass, for those 16 bars anyway. Mike Portnoy and Jordan Rudess kicked a whole lot more ass, and for a lot longer than 16 bars. Their chops are undeniable.