To: hix@yahoogroups.com From: Wendy Lapides Date sent: Tues, 14 Jan 2003 Subject: Fall River, MA Report Fall River, Massachusetts 01/13/03 My husband John and I made the 20 minute drive from our house in R.I. to Fall River, Mass. on Sunday night to see Our Boy. Fall River, once a thriving industrial city, can now only be described as a tired old town. We had never been to or heard of the Narrows Center for the Arts, but following our Yahoomaps directions, we were not surprised to find ourselves in a mainly deserted factory district down by the water. We arrived about 7:15 for the 8:00 show, and waited outside in frigid temps for the doors to open. I was happy to see that a line had begun to form behind us, and from the bits and pieces of conversation that I heard, the concert-goers seemed to be a group who had listened to Dan thirty years ago, but hadn¹t kept up with his career. When the doors finally opened, we traipsed en masse through dingy stairwells, and up three flights of stairs. I had a vision of what it must have been like being on the night shift at this factory -- who would have guessed 100 years ago, what would be going on within these walls tonight! The top floor of the building was divided in half length-wise -- one side had artists¹ studios, the other, the theater. The platform stage was back dropped by a view of the Braga Bridge, a sight much more majestic by night than day. There were tables set up in front of the stage, and church pews to the right and left. They served coffee and tea only--byob was permitted. John and I grabbed a front row table a foot from the stage, on the Lickettes side. The place filled quickly, and we figured there were between 200 and 250 people. The scheduled show time came and went. Tension and excitement mounted. Finally, the band was announced, and had I been so inclined, I could have touched each and every member as they ran out onto the stage. (I *was* inclined but resisted). Dan wore black slacks and a shirt with dark red stripes against a black background, which melted into one large black stripe in the middle, and then back to stripes on the bottom. The Lickettes, Robin and Susan, looked wonderful in black skirts and fishnet stockings. Robin wore a red ruffled tank top and Susan, a gold lame, off the shoulder number. The rest of the band consisted of Dave Bell on guitar, Brian Godchaux on violin, and Paul Smith on bass. (Sorry boys -- besides Brian¹s hat, I didn¹t pay much attention to your outfits). They opened with Canned Music, and went on to play Chattanooga Shoe Shine Boy, Reelin¹ Down, Honeysuckle Rose, Blues for Dixie, I Scare Myself, Barstool Boogie, How Can I miss You, That¹s the Smoke They¹re Blowin¹, and Exactly Like You. A short intermission followed, (shirt change for Dan) and they came back with Cowboy¹s Dream # 19, I¹ll see You in my Dreams, Peach Pickin¹ Time in Georgia, ŒLong Come a Viper, Shootin¹ Straight, Evenin¹ Breeze, Capo on my Brain, By Hook or by Crook, Payday Blues, and for the encore, (standing o) The Buzzard was Their Friend. Dan treated us to all his tricks --yodeling, Dylanesque harmonica, guitar slapping, dancing, drumming, long note-holding, and even a little lead guitar. The girls were a pleasure to watch, with their table full of tools of the percussion trade. They really seemed to be having a good time, and everyone was appreciative of the audiences¹ enthusiasm. My annual and much anticpated night of non-canned Dan was wonderful!