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Beacon Theatre, New York December 11, 2001 By C. Bottomley Lynyrd Skynyrd may have been a complicated proposition when original singer Ronnie Van Zant and his frequent co-writer guitarist Allen Collins were alive, now they're just plain demented. It's still hard to remember the band's current make-up. But their recent show at New York's Beacon Theatre found them in flux. What was once a greatest hits act has found its traditional messages thwarted by history. Van Zant, the band's resident poet, discovered his text in the Southern man's burden. In songs like "Free Bird" and "Tuesday's Gone" his protagonists were always leaving but couldn't help glancing back for one last look. Like condemned men, they seemed to perpetually return to the idea of escape as a way of preserving integrity. In "Sweet Home Alabama" he told us that "in Birmingham they love the governor." It was more a sad matter of fact than glowing approval. What Neil Young should have really remembered is the work it takes to live in a defeated land. At the Beacon, the current Skynyrd visited that old haunted side of themselves just once, when "Simple Man" was dedicated to bassist Leon Wilkeson, who died in early 2001. With the cross-generational audience bellowing along and lifting lighters heaven-ward, the lyrical dogma of the line "Forget your lust for the rich man's gold/ All that you need is in your soul," was undercut by the Gothic lurch of the music. "Simple Man" is less about wisdom's comfort than how hard it is to live up to the lessons of the past. Of course, you have to play it correctly to get that point across. That Skynyrd 2001 can still hit the mark is a sign of their professionalism, and a reminder that they're more comfortable with sounding familiar than digging for truth. When they rock, as on the opening "Workin' for MCA" and "You Got That Right," it's so proficient you know these men may never play another original note in their lives. The visual anchors are portly singer Johnny Van Zant, whose winks and mike stand swinging are pure Vegas corn, and guitarist Rick Medlocke, a dead ringer for demonic actor Klaus Kinski who reels around the stage with coat tails flapping like a dervish. The only wrong step the set itself took is when the band digressed into two unnecessary numbers from their recent Christmas album. Wilkeson has been replaced by Ean Evans, whose enormous bouffant shames even the rest of an already hirsute group. His premature demise, however, haunts "That Smell," the late Ronnie's great walk through Edgar Allan Poe terrain. Lil' bro Johnny delivered the tune as a sing-along whose bemused attitude to addiction was closer to Motley Crue than the spirit of '77. In the wake of September 11, Skynyrd have also moved their mental Mason-Dixon lines to accommodate Manhattan. The Union flag shared backdrop acreage with the Stars & Bars, guitarist Hughie Thomasson incorporated Francis Scott Key's "Star Spangled Banner" into "Sweet Home Alabama's" intro and Jimmy's declaration that Osama Bin-Laden could "kiss my goddamn ass" met with a predictable patriotic roar. By the encore, the inevitable chant of "Free Bird" was drowned out by New York good ole boys shouting "U.S.A.! U.S.A.!" Skynyrd promoting the Union forever? Whatever next? The show may have been roots rock revue cast as pep rally, but support act Joe Bonamassa is still enthralled with the blues vocabulary, and he can peel off licks fast enough to get an audience cheering, too. Sure, the 24-year-old guitarist is still rifling through the tricks of forebears like Stevie Ray Vaughan and Eddie Van Halen, but songs like Jethro Tull's "A New Day Yesterday" and Rory Gallagher's "Cradle Rock" indicated Bonamassa was a curator with a quirky eye and plenty of turbo fuel for ancient engines. Can he keep it up? Let's hope he isn't looking to Skynyrd 2.0 for lessons. |
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