Warner Theater, D.C.
I think an evening out with MK and the band is like savoring a fine single malt for an few hours. There’s no histrionics, no fireworks. Your ears don’t bleed. You don’t listen to interminable stories. What you get is some good, good musicianship (John McCusker!), a band that plays together and for each other; some well written songs, some new, some old. Some good banter with the crowd: “Feel free to shout out requests if you like” *sotto voce* “doesn’t mean we’ll listen to them”.
You leave thinking that you watched a bunch of middle aged balding men having fun together and enjoying entertaining others. Maybe it isn’t a fine whisky. Maybe it’s like pair of really well made boots that you’ve had for years; they fit really really well, are comfortable and just seem to be part of the background of your life.
Sharon and I (42 and 44 respectively) were probably at the younger end of the age spectrum. Apart from the 6 year old sitting straight in front of me.
It made me think..
As I recall my youth, I think ‘Making Movies’ is the first cassette I can remember Dad playing in the car all the time. I’m still word perfect. MK was (I think) one of the last gigs I went to with Dad before I emigrated. And it seems like time has stood still.
There’s nothing ‘new’ in what he does, and I think you can recognize of his albums or tracks within 6 notes. But there’s some wit in his words and still outrageous talent in his fingers. Still worth it.