 Roger Whittaker @ Star Plaza Theatre, Merrillville, IN, USA I was able to fulfill some sort of wish recently by seeing the great
Roger Whittaker in performance, and then topped that wish by actually
meeting the man in the flesh afterward. Now that's a memorable night in my world. Accompanied by the always personable OLE, whose patience
throughout the show was admirable, I set out for the ashcan metropolis of
Merrillville, Indiana, home of the Star Plaza Theatre, assumedly Roger
Whittaker's unofficial Midwest headquarters. Roger blows through town at
least once a year, and I hate to say I think the Star Plaza is the only
place that will book him at this point. I've bypassed many opportunities
to see the Roger Whittaker Christmas show, knowing that even I have a
schmaltz limit. But this was the time when destiny called, and so we
endured a pitifully busy rush-hour traffic ride down there, and basked in
the glory of Roger Whittaker.
I had been joking that we'd probably be five minutes late and miss "New
World in the Morning" (essentially the sole reason I love Roger
Whittaker, aside from the fact that he looks exactly like my Dad), and of
course, sure enough, the show started PRECISELY on time, and he did
indeed open with "New World in the Morning" … the band played the intro
and Roger walked onstage taking the mike just before his vocal started.
The version was very good, did not disappoint at all. I was glad that
the band was not too cheesy, as I have seen on some Roger Whittaker live
videos and CD's. (Insert joke about extensive underground circuit of
Roger Whittaker bootleg traders.) He played acoustic guitar and fronted
a quartet (electric guitar, bass, drums, and keys) of young guys who
looked sort of embarrassed to be there. They were dead-on tight, though,
and even spiced up some favorites (and made stuff like "Sixteen Tons"
endurable).
We had fourth-row seats (bought the day of the show, by the way), and
felt mighty conspicuous being fresh-faced twenty-somethings among the
Congregation of Old. There were several points where we both felt we
might be turned into a source of Roger's hammy fun, as he kept looking at
us, but fortunately that didn't happen (humiliation by
Albita was enough
for me). Roger stuck to the tried-and-true, passing off jokes that even
the 80-year-olds must know are on bumper stickers and refrigerator
magnets. The man knows his audience, that's for sure. He pandered to
just about everyone possible, throwing in all manner of empty nostalgia
in his endless account of his "musical safari." But all told, it was a
very enjoyable show, and he certainly didn't leave us wanting more.
Value, that's what it's all about.
The second set wore a bit thin (OLE in particular was ready to hit
someone) with LONG monologues on kids and marriage (Bob Saget would've
rejected this stuff as being too tame for "America's Funniest Home
Videos") and special guest Kirsten Campbell, who was even given a solo
spot during which she pathetically belted out "I Dreamed a Dream" from
"Les Mis." Things were certainly not helped by the choices of
"Jambalaya on the Bayou" and (shudder) "Blueberry Hill." To his credit,
Roger played several new songs that had the trademark Whittaker edge,
although it was a bit much after awhile.
The crowd, which was about 2/3 capacity, had an average age of 60
(brought down from 75 by the presence of OLE and myself) and responded
with wild enthusiasm at the show's close, even though they had responded
quite perfunctorily throughout the concert. In fact, there was something
a tad hollow about the standing ovation at the end, almost as though the
audience thought you have to do that for any show that costs you more
than $25 to see. But I was glad to join in cheering a man I consider to
be one of the greats. We hung around afterward and met him, and I told
him about LMP's daring version of "New World," about which he seemed
mildly interested, then sort of bored. He signed my program, which now
holds a prime place among my valued possessions. Quite an evening, many
a dream fulfilled, and everyone's Grannies were still in bed by eleven.
Now, in the spirit of the Internet thirst for set lists, is Roger
Whittaker's:
First set (black shirt with gold trim):
(* performed with Kirsten Campbell) Review by Christian Boil |