DramaLit Blog 1.0: BU School of Theatre

I never truly appreciated the Paradise Rock Club until recently.  I used to feel disgruntled when I would look on their calendar and not see any of my favorite musicians.  I would think, “You’re a ROCK club, why don’t you showcase ROCK bands?”  Yet, now I am thanking them for their eclectic taste.  They host every kind of artist, from rock and roll, to hip-hop, to folk, to electronica to cover bands.  I am only now realizing the great service they are providing by being so open-minded.

This last month I have seen two concerts there.  The first was Led Zeppelin 2.  Now, Led Zeppelin is my favorite band.  I think they are (were) gods among men and I worship them for gracing the Earth with their innovative tunes.  I would do almost anything (even kill a man) for the chance to see the band play.  However, after John Bonham died in 1980, the band broke up because they could not and would not replace the drummer and Led Zeppelin never toured again.

Generally, I find cover bands embarrassing.  Typically, cover bands consist of middle-aged mega fans that can kinda sorta play the songs of whomever they are imitating.  I would always opt to spend the extra hundred dollars to see the real musical legends in concert over the wannabes.  However, that luxury is impossible when it comes to Led Zeppelin, so when I heard that Led Zeppelin 2 (arguably the best Zeppelin cover band) was coming to the Paradise, I bought a ticket.  I expected to hear my favorite songs played reasonably well by all right musicians.  BUT THERE WAS SO MUCH MORE!

I must admit that I laughed out loud when four forty-something men in wigs, chiffon, and bell-bottoms came onstage.  But then they busted out some serious talent, not only musically but also theatrically.  Notably, the fake Robert Plant had it down.  He had every gesture, every expression just right.  It was evident that these men put in a great amount of work to not only sound like the band, but to be the band.  What started out as a huge joke to me, ended up moving me.  I got to pretend I was seeing my favorite band.

Then last week, Molly and I took our underclassmen dates to a concert they wanted to see.  I would never, ever in a million years had bought myself a ticket to an electronica concert had I not been deeply persuaded by true fans.  I honestly assumed I would hate it.  “Drum machines have no soul,” I thought.  “How is it a live show if it’s through a computer?”  Yet, I was floored by the energy and the soul behind these musicians.  The first artist drummed on a shopping cart and used projection.  Beats Antique played violins and saxophones.  I was particularly excited when they brought out their belly dancer.  It was not just music, it was performance art.

In these last few weeks, this small club just down the street has revolutionized what I believe is a concert.  It can be more than rock and more than an original lineup.  Most importantly, it can be more than music.