Nia Halvorson: Vocals
Elliot Lewis: Keyboards,Vocals
Bruce McDaniel: Guitar, Vocals
Prairie Prince: Drums and Percussion
Michelle Rundgren: Vocals
Steven Stanley: Trombone, Trumpet, Percussion, Vocals
Bobby Strickland: Woodwinds, Vocals
Kasim Sulton: Bass Guitar,Vocals
Grace Yoo: Vocals
Of course, it would be none other than Todd Rundgren, ever the musical pioneer, time and again and again and again the innovator, to devise a way to stage a concert tour during our still on-going global pandemic!!!
And to think, I nearly did not go.
In 1989, I was 20 years old. At that point within my life, the musical universe of Todd Rundgren had become an overwhelming presence for a mere two years. It was near the end of high school when I became aware and therefore, took some steps towards that universe by purchasing a few albums on cassette which I had found in record store cut-out bins, with his seminal, breakthrough
"Something/Anything?" (released February 1, 1972) making its slow yet persistently warm embrace of my heart throughout the Summer of 1987, the period before I left home for college in Madison, WI.
By the time I arrived for college, the entirety of Rundgren's catalog, from solo material to his work with both Nazz and Utopia, were being re-released on cassette and issued on the then new compact disc format, four albums at a time. And so, I was able to dive completely into this universe and therefore, making it the unquestionable soundtrack of my life during my first two years of school.
By the Summer of 1989, after I had been firmly caught up and Rundgren himself had undertaken essentially a four year hiatus from releasing music, he re-emerged (and we reunited) with the gloriously realized "Nearly Human" (released May 18, 1989). It is an album made up largely of Rundgren's self-penned soul, rhythm and blues compositions and recorded completely live in the studio with an extensive cast of vocalists and musicians including members of The Tubes, Bourgeois Tagg as well as Rundgren's former Utopia bandmates (Roger Powell, Kasim Sulton and Willie Wilcox) on one selection (and recorded on my birthday to boot!). The ensuing tour was to be akin to a classic rhythm and blues review styled excursion featuring Rundgren accompanied by a large band of musicians and singers, and as evidenced from the ticket stub photo displayed above, I attended that very concert and exited that experience an even more devoted Todd Rundgren disciple than ever before.
It was my very first time witnessing Todd Rundgren perform live and the full circle of having this man's musical vision occupy such tremendous space in my life for such an intense and considerably brief period of time feel completed by this show was more than overwhelming. He was in absolutely peak form, a superlative figure who more than outmatched whatever I had envisioned just by listening to the music and also, at that time, having no avenues of which to have ever really seen him. Remember, this is long before something akin to You Tube had even been conceived of and Todd Rundgren's pioneering music videos, outside of Utopia's "Crybaby," were not regularly seen. All I had was my imagination and having the chance at last to see and hear him in the flesh was nothing less than witnessing a dream phasing into real life.
Over the decades after that show, I have seen Todd Rundgren three more times: once during his Hawaiian lounge bar themed "With A Twist Tour," his guitar heavy "Arena" tour and his relaxed and loose "Unpredictable" tour. As with his large body of recorded work, no two tours were exactly the same, a factor that continues to amplify my bottomless appreciation. Yet, once Rundgren had announced what has been dubbed his "Clearly Human" tour, one where he would essentially be revisiting and celebrating "Nearly Human," I initially felt that I would take a pass as, in my mind, I had seen that tour 32 years ago.
But alas, regardless of any sense of familiarity, it was not to be the same...
So, here we are in 2021, still caught within the throes of our global pandemic and with our concert venues still shuttered and tours continuing upon this painfully lengthy and forced hiatus with no real or confirmed end date in sight regardless of our collective hopes to the contrary. And as stated at the outset of this posting, who else would it be but Todd Rundgren to devise a means to circumvent this formidable obstacle and stage a concert experience that ventured quite a long way to approximate a full bodied live experience while we are all still socially distanced and are all in various stages of becoming vaccinated.
Conceived before the actual pandemic, Todd Rundgren had already been hatching a plot that would confront the future of concert touring and live performances within a rapidly changing world environment, mostly due to the effects of climate change. While the "Clearly Human" tour would be a celebration of past music, the means at which to present it is as ahead of the curve as so much of Rundgren's recorded output and artistic venues over his 50 year plus career. The idea was this: to have one location serve as a home base for himself and his band and then perform the show over a series of dates from this location, which would then be broadcast and streamed to various locations on specific dates, to which concert goers could purchase tickets.
Putting a dream of a multi-city virtual concert tour into action, Rundgren and his band set up camp in my home city of Chicago, Il, arranged a collection of 25 tour dates with the intent of tailoring each experience to each specific city of the tour itinerary and after witnessing some visual images from the first couple of shows, I rapidly changed my mind to purchase a ticket for the show designed for the Madison/Milwaukee tour stop.
What an odd feeling it is to to harbor that very same anticipatory feeling right before a concert while standing in one's own home. And yet, there I was, in my home, heading towards the study, computer desktop all warmed up and ready and images of Milwaukee, WI on my screen and soon phasing to the image of the Chicago based concert venue itself, complete with audible sounds of concertgoers via their enlarged video screens placed at the venue and the few live-in-person attendees.
And then, at 8:00 p.m. sharp, the house light went down and the show began.
Knowing that what I was witnessing was not a pre-recorded event but happening in real time as I watched, it was a strange sensation, an inexplicable spell being weaved, making me feel as if I were there when I was actually at home. That first sight, of the man himself, on a multi-leveled stage complete with a giant, vibrant LED screen behind the full 10 piece band was striking enough. To hear those now familiar notes of the night's opening song "Real Man" (just as it was back in 1989) even moreso. And then, Todd Rundgren, standing tall and strong with microphone firmly in hand, began to sing...
Over the course of the show's first nine selections, which included the Rundgren and Utopia classics,
"Love Of The Common Man," "Secret Society," "Something To Fall Back On," "Parallel Lines," "Unloved Children," "Love In Action," and
"Compassion," I found myself regarding Rundgren in a different light than before, even through a series of familiar songs presented as a mirror to the performance I attended three decades earlier. It was viewing and hearing him through the lens of time, as well as legacy.
There is something additionally strange when we think of our most cherish artists, especially as they age. What a bizarre sense of co-existence it must be as these figures are living an d breathing in front of you as they are in the 21st century but they are also housed so firmly into our memories as they people they once were. I realized that Rundgren's voice just did not sound the same as I am used to hearing it, which surprised me as I know very well that he is three decades older than he was when I first saw him.
Granted, and especially as Rundgren is typically an artist who spends much of the calendar year touring, he has now spent nearly a year and a half off the road at home due to the pandemic and so, that spectacular voice of his has obviously been out of practice. Bringing advancing age into the mix, his voice has altered further still, becoming deeper and a tad rougher around the edges. It was akin to witnessing a great athlete grow older, which I do not think is an unfair comparison for an artist like Rundgren as this evening's performance defiantly showcased precisely how intricate and difficult these compositions actually are, and undeniably, crucially, from a vocal standpoint. Rundgren's songs would be a challenge for any singer due to the unorthodox melodic twists and turns contained within his songwriting and when I saw him in 1989, that was a stage during which his voice was possibly at its most agile and dynamic. It would taken the very best to have kept up with him then.
But now, in 2021, it was just different. Without question, and at nearly 73 years old, Todd Rundgren is not lacking of energy. He strutted, pranced and danced from one end of the stage to the other repeatedly and as gracefully as he had ever been, the theatricality of his showmanship refusing to be dulled. In addition, when he occasionally picked up his guitar, the fireworks showered in a raining sparkle of bluesy licks and heavy chords. It was only initially through his singing where I felt to myself, "Wow...he is getting older." A weird observation of a figure who has always seemed to be eternally youthful, so to speak.
To hear Rundgren taking breaths between parts, to hear him singing a tad behind the beat when he once would be so firmly out front setting the pace, made me not only appreciate his life's work and abilities even more, I found myself rooting for him in a way that I never had before. His band of vocalists, all of whom (including longtime bassist and former Utopia bandmate Kasim Sulton, as well as Todd's wife Michelle Rundgren) who had to carry and deliver Rundgren's trademark stacked harmony backing vocals to perfection, also served as a succulent cushion to Rundgren's lead vocals. Caressing when necessary. Encouraging at times. Always, consistently supportive. It was as if his band was telling him that they refused to let him down. They were here for him, which continued to give him the strength and ability to keep forging ahead, even when it just may not be as effortless as it used to be.
For me, the breakthrough occurred during the sensational marathon anthem of "Can't Stop Running," where Rundgren, as if performing some sense of an exorcism, took heed of the song as I have never quite heard him before and just fought his way through all of the physical and vocal gymnastics with a as much style and grit as fearlessness and steadfast determination. Frankly, he worked himself upwards and through to such a sweat filled degree, that once the song completed, we could hear him take a hefty breath and joke to his band, "I might have to change the setlist!"
If anything was holding him back a tad, or if there were some muscles needed to be loosened up, whatever had happened unlocked something deeply powerful because for the remainder of the performance, Todd Rundgren was on fire!
Beginning with the vocally kaleidoscopic
"The Waiting Game," and soaring through the theatrical satire of
"The Smell Of Money," the funk and soul picnic servings of
"The Want Of A Nail," "Love Science" and Utopia's
"Rock Love," the cosmic spiritual questioning and searching of
"Change Myself" and
"God Said," and the
Marvin Gaye styled selections of
"Feel It," "Sweet" and
"Lost Horizon," Todd Rundgren and his full band were resplendent.
Through an exquisite sense of song selection and pacing, Rundgren delivered a performance that served as both echo and extension of his 1989 tour and while I was watching through a video screen, the sheer exhilaration of what was being presented went a seriously long way in tricking the mind into thinking I was actually in that undisclosed Chicago theater experiencing the show directly in front of me.
Certainly, by not being in the theater and having different camera angles to allow a variety of vantage points, I could luxuriate in seeing how drummer Prairie Prince approached the songs, I could marvel at the tireless energy of the trio of backing vocalists (Nia Halvorson, Grace Yoo and the aforementioned Michelle Rundgren), I could witness the precise, intricate work of woodwind/horn players Steven Stanley and longtime Rundgren associate Bobby Strickland and so much more in a way where I would otherwise have to take it all in at once in a live setting.
Yet, I feel compelled to re-state: the visceral nature of the show was not dimmed or inflicted. Nothing was lost in the translation. For Todd Rundgren and his band, once again discovered that inexplicable place where music becomes magic and that magic makes the music transporting.
As for Todd himself, in regards to his own vocals, the elasticity returned in full force and I still rooted for him to keep swinging for the fences and by the show's climax, he more than hit a grand slam!
The song "Hawking," a striking, stirring gospel influenced mediation, which presents Rundgren in a powerfully reflective merging of the philosophic, spiritual, and utopian, has long existed as one of the grandest songs from the "Nearly Human" album and it unquestionably contains one of the most impassioned Rundgren lead vocals of his entire career. It is not a song you can passive listen to or perform. To experience "Hawking" you need to experience "Hawking."
Being vocally demanding is an understatement for a song as this, one that is engaging with the meaning of existence and honestly, I have always wondered what Rundgren actually does internally to prepare himself to sing it, especially as it is reaching for the sun from the very first words and notes. Where does he go to reach that place of surrender and enlightenment? And more practically, could he reach those notes? Could he find that power again?
He did.
"He's DOING it!!!!" I shouted (internally) to myself as "Hawking" began and continued to voyage onwards and upwards. In addition and more than worth noting, it was just something to regard their full commitment--not just during the entire show but for this song in particular.
It is impossible, I would think to find a way to just phone this song in. Please just look at the screenshot below which I took of Bobby Strickland performing his solo during this song. Look at his forehead!! The intensity of the commitment and heart involved, attained and presented and again, richly translated and conveyed through our screens in real time taking us higher and higher.
After everything, including glorious sing-a-long performances of Rundgren's classics "Hello It's Me" and "Can We Still Be Friends?," the finale was just as performed in 1989, the roof raising, full throated gospel rave up anthem "I Love My Life." Adorned in full length preacher's robes, Todd Rundgren made the world his pulpit extolling with even more urgency, considering the state of the world, the illusion of time and the desperate need for us to recognize the beauty and happiness that fully exists in a world that is also prevalent with such misery and darkness. It was a finale that found Rundgren with seemingly more energy than at the start of the show, and if that is true, this speaks volumes to what music is able to achieve.
As for me, I was lifted!!! Absolutely, undeniably, positively, entirely lifted and damn, if he even had me suspended in air for a spell after the band took their final bows. What an ascension this wonderful night was, especially after a year of being so isolated from friends, family and the very events that bring us together. While I do not attend as many live concert events and others, I have never had a bad experience and therefore, it means so very much to me that we collectively make Covid-19 a thing of the past, so that we may re-connect again.
But Todd Rundgren's "Clearly Human" virtual tour was a tremendous undertaking that extended far from the terrific events that we have been able to witness from artists throughout this past year. Rundgren delivered a full production that was simultaneously intimate as well as one designed as a means of mass communion, reminding us of what has been taken from us due to the pandemic but also as a means of possibility should the pandemic extend longer than hoped, even as we are becoming vaccinated. And that is just one of the reasons that Todd Rundgren is who he is: an artistic figure who is always so far ahead of the curve as the positivity of possibility serves as a guiding force.
And what a force he continues to be.
