THE FALL OF THEIR YEARS:
SHOULD MUSIC LEGENDS STOP PERFORMING WHEN THEY GET (TOO) OLD?
Yesterday, my friend Paul Harris posted a music concert review which triggered a strong reaction. The result is this article — with a counterargument.
I encourage readers to check out Paul’s writings, and particularly his most recent article on Jimmy Webb, the legendary songwriter who composed a flurry of crossover pop hits during the 1960s and 1970s. He’s nearing 80 now. Like many musicians of his generation and era, Webb still tours and performs live shows. Nostalgia has become a very lucrative business. Accordingly, many classic rock bands, R&B groups, and country musicians refuse to retire, even though most can’t sing nor play close to their talents when they were at their peak. As Paul points out, most legacy performers can’t hit the high notes anymore — either literally and figuratively — and in some instances have become embarrassing; some might even say cringeworthy.
[Note: Read “Aging Out Vocally” at www.harrisonline.com]
Obviously, there is no expiration date dictating when a live act is “too old” to bring joy to an audience. If people want to pay money and they leave satisfied, that’s validation enough. Moreover, age is just a number. Some performers get burned out by their 30s. Yet other performers are still going strong well into their 80s, even 90s (Willie Nelson, we will “roll you up and smoke you when you die”). Paul noted that each and every performer is different. There’s no specific cutoff nor date when to call it quits. He also pointed out many legends use audio enhancements onstage and/or backup singers to cover their diminishing vocal ranges — admittedly with very mixed results.
But Paul was also highly critical of live acts who (in his opinion) probably shouldn’t be performing live anymore. He cited Stephen Stills, Graham Nash, and Joni Mitchell as examples. I’ll quote him directly from one of his other reviews:
“Joni Mitchell was also there to sing ‘Both Sides Now,’ and while I have always liked a lot of her music, Joni’s appearance saddened me. I know all about the stroke and her comeback (thanks to Brandi Carlile), but it’s time for Joni to stop showing up at events like this, sitting on a golden throne and barely squeaking out the lyrics. It reminded me of Kirk Douglas being dragged onstage for the Academy Awards. Doing so diminishes her status as a music legend.”
That’s an interesting perspective and do I see his point. But, I also disagree with it. In fact, I strongly disagree. Entertainment is not a competitive sport. While pro athletes certainly should retire once their skills sharply diminish (recall Willie Mays in his final awkward season in the majors, or Johnny Unitas hobbling bow-legged in a humiliating last year in the NFL), stage performers don’t hurt their teams nor rob anyone else of accomplishment. In fact, appearances late in the swan song of a legendary career may enhance a memory and preserve a legacy.
In recent years, we’ve seen (via television, internet, and in some cases live) icons who were clearly at the end of their careers. Best examples include Tony Bennett singing in the late stage of Alzheimers. The same goes for Glen Campbell. Local reviews for legends Smokey Robinson and Johnny Mathis were highly critical. Wayne Newton still makes appearances here in Las Vegas. I saw him live 20 years ago, and his voice was completely shot back then. I can’t even imagine what he sounds like today.
And you know what — that’s all okay. Cracking voices and critics be damned — if more people get one last chance to see a musical paragon, even from the distant past — that’s wonderful.
With most legacy singers, we know exactly what we’re getting. An audience that paid to see Frank Sinatra perform well into his 80s in his late years when he needed a giant screen monitor as a crutch for song lyrics and often forgot cues and stumbled through songs he’d sung hundreds of times before wasn’t expecting the Rat Pack version of the singer who often nailed those classic Capital recording sessions in a single take. They paid and went to see — SINATRA. Enough said. The same is true for Stills, Nash, Mitchell, Bennett, Campbell, Robinson, Mathis, and Newton — voices who gave us the soundtracks of our lives.
Las Vegas is the mecca of nostalgia shows, and I’ve seen many of them in my 24 years of living here. Quite a few icons had embarrassing moments and the shows were far from perfect. I saw B.B. King in his 80s who could barely walk and needed a stool while onstage (he was a terrific performer)…..I saw Ringo Starr, who was never known as a great stage presence even though his all-star band more than makes up for it (and besides, who cares that he never could sing–it’s Ringo!)…..I saw Paul Williams, the songwriter and actor who told stories all night though he wasn’t much of a vocalist (was awesome)…..I saw Burt Bacharach well into in his 80s (who was mesmerizing simply for the fact he’s written and composed as many great songs as anyone)…. I saw Dr. John in the final months of his life, and sat 30 feet away (he looked half dead, but man could he play the piano and put on a show!)…..I saw the Grateful Dead, the redux version, was my last concert (and they were as good as any major band I’ve seen)…..I did walk out on Bob Dylan once. Okay, I’ll give you that one.
Thankfully, none of those old acts decided to hang it up. So, I took away the gifts of a memory and a story.
My favorite legacy performer story is seeing Liza Minnelli about a decade ago. Luxor Las Vegas. I think it was one of her last tours and local residencies because now she just can’t do it any longer. I sat third-row dead-center, so I could hear Minnelli’s heavy breathing and see the sweat dripping from her brow. It was one of the most astonishing moments of any stage performer I’ve been blessed to experience–and she was BETTER because of the fact she didn’t quite “have it” anymore. Because what I saw that night was raw talent, a genuine effort, and an absolute love for what she was fortunate to do in her life. Minnelli was 70, and coming off a surgery (and who knows how many ex-husbands and addictions). In the middle of a 90-minute show, she stumbled at one point (during a dance number). Frustrated, between songs, next she pulled off her heels, peeled off her famous peacock eyebrows, and kinda’ just schlumped up to the edge of the stage front. I swear, I can almost touch her. You can imagine he electricity in those first few rows. Then, she looked everyone straight in the eye and I swear everyone in that audience of perhaps 2,000 must have felt she was looking right at them and talking to them directly. Minnelli confessed that she really was having trouble doing the routines that she’d pulled off with such grace in her 20s and 30s as one of show business’s most dynamic stage performers. Her body simply wouldn’t cooperate with the desire nor the ambition to give and deliver. It was like digging down deep, yet nothing was left–the tank was empty. So, she mustered whatever energy remained in that room and the forgiving audience carried her through, empowered by the genuine authenticity of a shared experience.
Clearly this pause was unplanned and a bit awkward but it was so real and we got to share it. Minnelli, known as the ultimate diva, just stood there barefoot. She might as well have been naked. Call it bearing herself to her audience, her fans, and to the world. You could hear a pin drop. Then, as the opening notes to her showstopper “But the World Goes ‘Round” began to play, standing alone under the spotlight and looking so vulnerable and so spent from life, she looked out into the darkness and in a voice quivering with gratitude said something to the effect, “I just love what I do. I have the greatest job in the world. I want keep on doing this forever!”
Thus began the raspy opening lyric, “Sometimes you’re happy, sometimes you’re sad, but the world goes ’round.”
Any performer who loves what they’re doing and makes an audience happy is okay with me. May they sing forever.