The Sum of All Shats – Sunset Observer #19…by Whitney Farmer, MBA – Un Pop Culture | @MDWorld

October 30, 2013 Whitney Farmer 5 Comments

He doesn’t have to do this, but he did it anyway.

William Shatner – who made something like $600M through his work and association with Priceline – performed in the area last week. We caught him at a sold-out show at The Coach House in San Juan Capistrano. Dennis had offered to drive, and he and the owner Gary go way back. Longer drive from Surf City than to the L.A. venues, but faster because of the toll lane. On a Friday night, this is an important consideration to a Californian.

He was backed during his original spoken word performance by Circa, a band who I had worked with before at the Club made up of current and former members of Yes.

We sat close. Oh so close…

Have I written recently how grateful I am for my life?

Wasn’t sure what to wear, all things considered. But I chose a sapphire-sequined mini, black nylons (nearly impossible to find now in SoCal), strappy heels which are actually built well enough to not suffer, a man-cut black linen jacket, and what is now a retro tanktop featuring the logo from our beloved dead Club. Asheley presciently chose a nearly identical jacket, and we both were validated when later The Shat took the stage dressed as if he had also read the same memo. However the lining of his jacket was blood red and would flare out and give us an unexpected display like an exotic bird looking for a mate(s), or like a design-patented pair of Louboutin pumps.

How to describe the night…

Perfect? No, because moments that could be described as flaws actually made the performance better. Like when Shat took out a harmonica with flourish and began to play an eerie and beautiful line. But something didn’t seem right. I swear he looked at me with a twinkle in his eye as he took a breath. I guessed what was going on, but was thrilled when he fessed up that he was harp-synching and that Tony Kaye was mimicking his harmonica with brilliant keyboard effects.

But his poetry took us by surprise. It was…good. It made you stop and listen, unless you were the drunken Trekkie who sat next to me and kept screaming ‘Rocket Man’ for the encore in the sci-fi rendition of an ignorant ‘Freebird’ shout-out.

There should be more spoken word shows. It disentangles the poetry from a melody and helps you capture what you are meant to learn. By contrast, again and to this day Iron Butterfly’s ‘Ina Garda de Vita’ is still a mystery to me.

Mary Frances said that the only thing missing was cigarette smoke. With her beatnik history, she knew how spoken word best reached the ear when carried on particles of nicotine and ashy carcinogens. The heavier the air, the quicker heavy thoughts can be heard. It’s the opposite of outer space where no atmosphere leads to silence.

Shatner’s voice brought atmosphere. It wasn’t heavy so much as rich. The expressive emotions which he dials up to eleven as Priceline’s icon were modulated for drama instead of comedy. The only adjustments needed were from the audience who needed to change their expectations about what to expect.

This was a real show, not a parody. Shatner’s poetry began with an arc that starts with being stunned by mortality and questioning if it has been a life well worth living, and ends with hope and renewed vitality to accelerate to the finish line. The drunken demands for Captain Kirk’s attention from the stage and amateur attempts to display the Vulcan hand salute were ignored elegantly.

Artists who become successful and then famous can become tempted to repeat the past. It is a difficult balance to walk between honoring an audience whose loyalty provided a life of ease and continuing to be fruitful until taking the long dirt nap. The broad path of serving up the past gives false security, leading to cash flow that eventually will dwindle to nothing because there is no new harvest to bring to market.

The Shat’s continuing mission seems to be to seek out new life and new civilization(s), and to boldly go where no one has gone before. We were given something new and left the venue more civilized because he did what no one expected him to do.

I had expected to write about the night lightly and with vignettes to make you laugh.

But he changed my mind.

NEXT TIME: Back to school…

Pic of the Shat from my cell phone.