When I emerged dazed from the Bill Graham Auditorium last Thursday night, I remember feeling vaguely surprised that the city was still standing. Most of my costume was missing, except for the unexplained santa hat still on my head. I did not look like a professional.
While attending almost thirty or so performances over the course of six days, I witnessed an allegedly innocuous format engage and thrill a couple thousand people virtually all day and much of the night, proving, at least to me, that "smooth jazz" as we knew it is gone.
Utterly obsessed fan that I was, I'd decided to sleep out for a full two nights under the marquee of the Fillmore East on 2nd Avenue and East 6th St. to buy tickets for The Who's Final Performance of "Tommy."
"I always try to make stuff that affects me and I think that if given the chance, a lot of music that doesn't seem like the formula of what might be a hit would be more popular. There's a lot of great music that doesn't sound like whatever. Everything sounds very dance-y now."
I'm in New York. We just finished some gigs and I saw my friend get married, and before that, we made a really cool album. We're starting our 25th year as a band and this record is the beginning of it.
With the steady stream of elaborately produced, consciousness-raising concerts, The Secret Policeman's Ball is a symbol that anything is possible when you're trying to do the right thing for the planet.