We begin with a brief quiz.
When attending a concert by a veteran artist with vast and varied catalogue of songs, do we want that artist to:
- perform with commitment and enthusiasm a set of more current, obscure songs — concentrating on material from a brand new album?
- perform a compendium of older hits and beloved songs in a more workmanlike way that is at times half-hearted?
The answer, of course, is: neither. We want you, heritage artist, to play a robust set of hits and familiar tunes with a vigor that says you love them as much as we do — and pepper in a few newbies. It’s only fair. We have, after all, paid good money for these tickets. (Well, most of us.)
Todd Rundgren checked answer 1.) Saturday night at the Mahaffey Theater, taking his ornery, I’ll-do-it-my-way act to a new level. And what could have been a terrific concert ended up as puzzling, and ultimately frustrating.
He has a new, collaboration-heavy album out, White Knight, which is pretty solid, especially for a 68-year-old’s 24th studio release. Todd played most of it. Nearly all the rest he pulled from such post-2K titles as Liars, State, Global, Arena and One Long Year. Not ringing a bell? You’re not alone.
It was if Todd was saying, “Take this, you fusty old cranks who don’t think I’ve done anything worthwhile after 1980.” He has always strove to innovate, experiment with a wide array of genres and technologies, to vehemently avoid falling into a pattern of repetition and nostalgia. For that, he has earned our respect. But the Stubborn Artist Effect has given rise to plenty of ill-advised music. Todd also likes to keep up with what the kids are doing, which has led to even worse ill-advised music.
So, yeah, here was Todd on Saturday night, stalking a dazzling stage set, in front of a superb four-piece band, two adorable singer/dancers at his side — rapping.
Please, don’t. Mercifully, he only rapped a little. Most of the time he sang, and his voice was surprisingly strong and tuneful for an artist who struggles to reach the upper register. He also played a handful of typically masterful guitar solos.
Todd put a lot of thought, effort and money into this tour. He performed in front of a high-tech curtain that displayed a vivid mélange of imagery, from flames during the AC/DC-esque “Strike,” to black-and-white geometric patterns to a rollercoaster ride. The band played behind it — statuesque, in silhouette, two of them wearing headphones. The sound quality was nothing short of superb. His two female sidekicks added a zest to the proceedings. Todd even went through four wardrobe changes, beginning with dark suit and tie. (Time to retire that clingy sleeveless muscle shirt in tacky orange. You need muscles for that.)
We fusties thought — hoped — that at some point the curtain would rise and Todd would join his band in true rock ‘n’ roll fashion. Then they’d play “Love of the Common Man,” “Couldn’t I Just Tell You,” “Black Mariah,” “I Saw the Light,” “Real Man,” “Hawking,” “Black and White,” “Hideaway,” or some sublime combination of timeless songs in the Rundgren oeuvre.
That did not happen. Of course it didn’t. This was Todd Rundgren. Instead we got “Come,” “Truth,” “Sweet,” “Past,” “Buy My T” and other songs that made you go, "hmmmm." Several numbers were successful, especially a rousing version of the Utopia song “One World,” the blue-eyed soul tune “Chance for Us” and the ballad “Beginning (of the End)” (the latter two from White Knight).
Then came the encore. After introducing the band members, who remained behind the curtain, Todd launched a slightly swinging “Hello It’s Me,” followed by a magnificent and spot-on version of the “Just One Victory.” Ebullience was kicking in. Then he skedaddled off the stage, no extended bows or blowing of kisses, no second encore. This sequence only added to the sense of what might have been.
Before closing, let me note that I saw a substantial number of crowd members who were really digging the show — dancing, smiling, singing along. Their fandom clearly runs deeper than mine.
So call me fusty. When it comes to Todd Rundgren, I’ll own it.
This article appears in May 25 – Jun 1, 2017.