For me, at least:
The Red Hot Chilli Pipers are returning to Pipes in the Valley this year.
Saturday, September 28, Riverfront Plaza, Hartford, CT. Miss it, and I pity you.
Maybe I’ll wait and buy their upcoming album (due out in August) there.
And get it signed.
I’m so bloody happy right now.
Sometimes when you kneel in prayer to the god of drums your prayers are answered.
This has been a good week.
No, really, I’ll actually, you know, write something soon.
In the meantime, because I really really miss them, here’s some Red Hot Chilli Pipers. I do miss these boys.
I do love these boys.
So this morning I put on a concert t-shirt underneath my more work-suitable shirt – my shirt from Billy Joel’s 2008 tour. Then to my delight they highlighted Himself on the radio because, as it turns out, it’s his birthday. I had no idea – I’m a huge fan but apparently not sufficiently a fangurl.
Let’s see if I can redress that a bit…
From that 2008 tour, which included the last concert at Shea Stadium (and guest-starred no one less than Sir Paul McCartney):
One of my favorite songs:
One more? One more. Another of my favorites:
It would be very easy to just embed half of YouTube – but I won’t. Happy, happy birthday, Billy. Love you – and as you always say, don’t take any s*$! from anyone!
He always was. I adore Ringo, especially after seeing his All-Starrs a couple of times, but “the cute one” was always my crush. Today, 48 years after The Beatles’ first appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show, Paul (sorry, Sir Paul) finally got his star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. I don’t know where the heck his fan clubs have been all this time, but hey, better late and all that. It’s icing on the cake.
It was forty(-eight) years ago today…
And I can’t resist commenting on Brad Paisley’s comments about the name of Sir Paul’s new album. Now, okay, “Kisses on the Bottom” is a ridiculous name. If there’s anyone whose mind doesn’t go there right away, I’d like to meet them. But it comes, for the record (so to speak), from the song ‘I’m Gonna Sit Right Down And Write Myself A Letter’, which is the first song on the album.
I’m gonna sit right down and write myself a letter
And make believe it came from you.
I’m gonna write words, oh, so sweet,
They’re gonna knock me off my feet.
A lotta kisses on the bottom — I’ll be glad I’ve got ‘em.
I’m gonna smile and say, “I hope you’re feelin’ better,”
And close “with love” the way you do;
I’m gonna sit right down and write myself a letter,
And make believe it came from you.
I have, I believe, four things to say to, as I saw him mentioned somewhere, “celebrity” singer (sic) Brad Paisley:
1) Who, exactly, are you to mock a Beatle? I couldn’t name a single one of your songs under torture. It would, in fact, be torture for me to be forced to listen to your stuff. If anyone still knows who you are in 50 years, then maybe you can open your mouth. Until then, put a sock in it.
2) I bought it. It makes absolutely no difference what it’s called, it’s Paul. Singing standards. ‘Nuff said.
3) I looked up your album titles, BP. Let’s see the brilliance you’ve committed…
1999: Who Needs Pictures – See? Brilliant.
2001: Part II – inspired.
2003: Mud on the Tires – eh.
2005: Time Well Wasted – I doubt it.
2006: Brad Paisley Christmas – oh, now, that’s poetry. Hand me my vial of salts, I may swoon.
2007: 5th Gear – eh.
2008: Play – no, Eject.
2009: American Saturday Night – eh.
2011: This Is Country Music – Thank you for the warning.
Compilation – 2010: Hits Alive – as opposed to -? Hits Deceased? Or – wait, I know: it’s a play on the famous line from Frankenstein, and there’s a picture of Boris Karloff and a lightning bolt on the cover? That’s awesome.
4) Buddy, your name is Paisley. You have NO room to talk.
Gnat.
These guys couldn’t give a bad show if you paid them.
Saturday night was the long-awaited Red Hot Chilli Pipers concert at the Warner Theatre in Torrington. First, a moment of wistful silence for the absence of Malcolm McEwen who, if I have a favorite in the band (and, really, how can I?) might be it; he was not present for this one. I am informed that he is on tour in Asia with his fiancee – and they just missed the calamities in Japan. Thank God – or it would have been something a lot stronger than a moment of silent wistfulness. Safe travels, Malcolm – hope to see you soon. I’m still seriously thinking about red glasses.
However: there still was a modified drum duel, with the two magificent Stevens (Steven ‘Stav’ Black and Steven Graham of the Ferrari hands), so I couldn’t be disappointed – and filling the bass guitar gap admirably was Ben Holloway, whom I had not “met” before. I hadn’t realized there’s a rotating cast of bandmates, which accounts for the different faces now and again; and Ben was fantastic.
Our seats were very good; last time I thought for some reason we were going to be front-ish and center, and we were … not; we were in the balcony. This time I found a seating chart of the Warner that seemed to indicate we’d be in the front corner of the second section of the orchestra. And … we were! It was excellent.
I’ll get two beefs (beeves?) off my chest early. 1) I’ve never quite understood the concept of paying a decent amount of money for a ticket and then getting so drunk you’ll never remember a minute of what you paid for. There was a couple in the last row of the first section, so just ahead of us, who had been going at it hard prior to the concert; he seemed far worse off than she, and she was at least two sheets to the wind. I think he was up to four. Put this way: when you go to clap your hands over your head, and you miss, it’s time to go home and go to bed. Also, when you go to fist-bump a friend, and you miss … see sound-of-one-hand-clapping, above. They did disappear shortly after intermission; I was literally praying that they were staying in the hotel across the street.
2) There was a very young, very full-of-himself security boy in a yellow shirt scurrying around constantly during the concert. He didn’t seem to do anything but scurry and get in our way, but every five minutes or so, there he went. He seemed remarkably put out about people dancing in the aisles for someone working in a theatre that sells alcohol – he tried (ineffectually) 
to put a stop to it a couple of times, I think, which was futile, earpiece or no earpiece. Officious twit. My sister was beginning to threaten to catch him, tie him up, and put him in a corner. I was more than ready to help.
OK, and that’s all the negativity I have about the concert. (Except the parking was rubbish.)
I’m not going to even try to provide a set list, but among the songs were a breathtaking Amazing Grace (People always ask two questions: can you play Amazing Grace, and what’s under your kilt: yes, and covered in the intro to Gary O’Hagen); “Hey Jude”, which will never be the same in my head again (our side won in the nana-off); Coldplay’s “Clocks”, which I really do prefer with the pipes – I miss them when the song comes on the radio; Snow Patrol’s “Chasing Cars”, just gorgeous; and two new-to-me covers: War’s Low Rider (that was a surprise) and The Who’s Baba O’Riley (wow). I’ve got to say that now I listen to the radio with an ear toward what might be adapted to the pipes. And every time one of “their” songs comes on I smile.
Stuart asked who had been to Scotland, then who wanted to go to Scotland; his two pieces of advice for going to Scotland were:
1) Bring clothing appropiate for all weather, because in the space of one day you could go from shorts and t-shirt and sneakers to six pairs of socks and a jumper (which he adorably corrected immediately to “sweater”), to a raincoat. (So – like Connecticut, then.)
2) Go to Argyll. He believes it to be the most beautiful part of Scotland; it has lochs, and glens, and the Loch Ness Monster, and wee haggises running about (having just a few days ago come across this I almost fell out of my seat) … A Scottish POW in WWII was so homesick for his Argyll that he wrote a song about it – and Dougie gave it to us on his pipe, which was goosebump-raising, and the Manchester Regional Police and Fire Pipe Band rejoined them. Again, I have never, ever, seen a standing ovation in the middle of a concert. Much less several.
Stuart has in the past told about how he wrote a song in college, and misplaced it for a while, and then rediscovered it. This time all he said was: Two things we should know about him were that he’s always late, and he always gets lost. “This is The Lost.” I’ll need to learn it for the many times I’m lost. I have a new theme song. (I love Dougie and Kevin – but I voted for you in Pipe Idol, Stuart!)
Among the Chillis, who as I said are all my favorites, I have to single out Nick “The Firestarter” Hawryliw, who is just tremendous, and I’m not just saying that because he left a comment on my blog last time. He does, indeed, put the “rock” in “bagrock”. One of my favorite things in all the world is a lad in a kilt and sneakers, and Firestarter is not only that: he is a rock god. It has to be said that telling many people I know that a guitarist in a bagpipe band is a rock god would raise skepticism. All I can say is “You haven’t seen the Firestarter.”
And they were all very patient and sweet after the show as well - sorry about the blinding flash...
Stav and Kev
I talked in my post about my first RHCP concert about the deep and awed adoration I feel for these guys, in which it’s very obvious I’m not alone (it was, I heard, a sold out house, most of which tickets went through CPTV pledging, with twice the cost per ticket). What’s wonderful is that they seem to feel the same way about their audience. There is a sheer indefatigable joy in their performances, in the giving and in the taking. Stuart as spokesman expressed it: they’re grateful, they never dreamed they would be playing – especially playing bagpipes – in front of screaming sold out audiences. And they know how lucky we and they are to be able to enjoy ourselves so thoroughly when so many are in the midst of so much trouble. And they don’t forget how they came to be here. (Thank you again, Gail, and again, and always.)
After the concert I happily tracked down Gail McClellan of The Olde Burnside Brewing Co./Ten Penny Ale and Pipes in the Valley, who with her husband Bob were responsible for contacting CPTV and saying “We have a show you need to see”. “We hear that a lot,” said the CPTV rep who introduced the concert. But this was different. This was the Red Hot Chilli Pipers. Gail said the boys will be headlining at Pipes in the Valley again this summer (*clears schedule*), and after that – who knows? With luck, nothing but onward and upward. And it might be awhile before they hit Connecticut again. And I hope that’s true, in that they deserve a fully national stage – they deserve to be well-known throughout the country. We mustn’t be selfish. But lads? Remember: Connecticut loved you first. Y’all come back now, y’hear?
Warner Theatre, Torrington CT, March 19 – Red Hot Chilli Pipers! It took CPTV long enough to get ‘em out, but they’re here, and they didn’t change the concert date on me this time.
I need to start working out to be ready for this.
*is excited*
I told you I can’t afford another pledge, not even to get hold of tickets to the Red Hot Chilli Pipers. I told you. But did you listen? Nooooo. No, you had to air BLAST LIVE AGAIN tonight. I made it through what, four? airings this past weekend – but – my willpower is only so strong (that is: not very). *hangs head* I am weak.
Weak in will – but strong in fangrrlishness. I pledged. That side mirror can just go on dangling.
“Your tickets to the Red Hot Chilli Pipers will be arriving two weeks prior to the concert, March 19, 2011 at the Warner Theatre in Torrington. Enjoy the show!”
Aye. I think I can do that. *happy dance* (Hope to see you there, Gail!!)
I hate pledge drives. But that’s when CPTV puts the Red Hot Chilli Pipers on! They’re not stupid – they had a huge response last summer, so they’re taking advantage of the addiction they helped foster. That’s nefarious.
Sadly, this time I don’t have the cash to pledge for tickets to – wait for it – the return of the Chillis to Connecticut! March 19 at the Warner Theatre in Torrington… I can only hope there are seats left after payday (and not the next one, she added, thinking of the side mirror dangling from the driver’s door of her car). If they come back to Connecticut and I can’t go, I … will be very sad.
In the meantime, BLAST Live was on this afternoon, and faith it’s on again now, and for the rest of the evening. (Oh – they also taped the pledge break chatter, and are airing that again. Well, that’s what the mute button is for.) “Clocks”!! I love “Clocks”. I said it before, I’ll say it again – when they play the mundane version on the radio, I miss the pipes. I’ll take the bagrock cover any day.
Stuart says “The man who puts the ‘rock’ in bagrock is – - G-man!” Yes. He did. (Though I have to admit a real preference for the Firestarter whose last name I need lessons in pronouncing, who was truly great in Hartford last September.) But every man on that stage rocks, by at least two definitions. It’s a good thing I wasn’t watching this afternoon with anyone less patient than my mother, or the constant giddy repetitions of “I do love these guys” would have gotten me thrown out into the snow.
But I do love these guys. Here’s hoping for March.
"I refuse to be a bowl in a gold of fish." – Ginger Rogers in "Shall We Dance"
Note:
Wherever possible, images used are actual covers or are from Wikimedia Commons. If I accidentally use something of yours and you'd like me to take it down, please let me know and I will be happy to do so.
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