Yesterday I drove up to northern Michigan, to drop off Number One Son at Interlochen for his week of sketching, drawing, painting and all around visual excitement. For those who haven’t been up to that school, it’s a campus-like feeling in the pines there, less like a camp than the boarding school it is. Spiffy and new, a mecca for tasteful patrons of the arts.
In their bandshell, the first concert of the season was “A Prairie Home Companion”. Some part of me resisted buying a ticket to this show until the last minute, but I finally decided to stick around and watch. I bought the ticket 3 days before the concert, and there were all of 4 tickets left. They were in Row G, and were more than I intended to spend, but I’m grateful it worked out. I was about 30 feet from the stage, and it was an awesome evening. If I’d had my honey and my daughter with me, it would have been perfect.
Doing some math, I realize I’ve seen Garrison Keillor now four times, in four different locales: St. Paul and Chicago in the 80s, New York (or Brooklyn?) in the early 90s, and now Interlochen. He’s planning on retiring, I had heard, so I figured it would be worthwhile to see him one last time. The setting was gorgeous, the evening weather was perfect, and all of the musical acts were sublime (except for Robin & Linda Williams, who had all the presence of margarine and looked like a couple people who repped pet toys at conventions, though Keillor’s comfort with them was unmistakeable).
Most of all, it was supremely enjoyable to watch Keillor perform. His stage demeanor was much warmer than I ever remember it. He was having a great time, and did a good job interacting with the audience and the young musical performers. Pacing back and forth as he told the news from Lake Woebegon, it was like he was telling a story at a cocktail party. A highlight (as you might expect for me) was watching him try and stump Fred Newman, his sound FX guy, with ever-more-elaborate vocalizations. I didn’t realize the subtle labial variations required for sounds of an outboard motor, a chainsaw, and embarrassing stomach noises. (I still can’t figure out how he made the dead-on sound of a truck backing up.) The other actors were great fun, too, especially when they performed highlights from movies filmed in northern Michigan (“Muskie Man” and “The Buddy System”). I listened to the repeat of the show today, by accident, and got the fuller effect of seeing it all in my mind. Coupling the sound with the memories of last night were a real charge to the imagination. In fact, listening to the whole show, I forced myself to remember everything I could–what performers were wearing, what the harpist’s brown hands looked like on the strings, when performers laughed, the signs in the background for Guy’s Shoes and the Catchup Advisory Board. It felt like flexing a strong muscle, warm and enjoyable.
With a career as long as Keillor’s, it’s easy to focus on a few faults. Sure, he’s corny. He coasts a lot of the time (I never have to hear “Da Doo Ron Ron” again please — I can’t stand any more boomers and plus-boomers trying to clap to the beat). He panders a little to his liberal, educated, arts-patron crowd. But he’s also crafty and entertaining and knows what he’s doing. More importantly, we won’t see the like of him again very soon, so I’m very thankful I went. The drive home in the dark was worth every minute. Thank you for your many years of creativity, Mr. Keillor.
For this show from Interlochen, check out videos and information here.