At some point, as I sat watching Joe Jackson -- he was perched on a stool behind a modest electronic keyboard, alone on stage -- I marveled at the fact that there really was no one else who would want to go see a show like this with me. I literally could not give away my extra ticket. After I got over the initial wisp of depression, I felt liberated. I think Jackson also feels free to do whatever he wants.
Jackson was a big deal in the post-punk new-wave era, but he paid a stiff price for his adventurous eclecticism. His name barely registers with people anymore. I essentially gave up on him 40 years ago, after his histrionic take on classic cool jazz, "Body and Soul," which (beyond a few bangers) now feels awfully dated.
Jackson came to Santa Fe to play the historic Lensic Theater, hawking his latest shtick -- the music of an imagined British music-hall rascal he named Max Champion. Jackson recently wrote and recorded some faux rags in the style of the early 1900s, and he presented them with a nine-piece oompah band to a mildly appreciative audience.
But first, he came out solo and hopscotched backward in time through his pop catalogue. He started with "Dave," a clever Beatlesque jaunt from 2019:
It was a joy to watch Jackson perform. He really is a musical genius in some ways, and his songwriting is both sophisticated and bubble-gum. He knows a hook. And his keyboard work is wizardry. Songs came alive in his hands, even without a band. For me, Joe Jackson without bassist Graham Maby is like Townshend without Daltrey or Garfunkel without Simon. But Jackson did justice to some of his best songs; instead of Maby's bass, we settled for Jackson's left hand.
By the fourth song his reverse timeline already was at 1984's "Body and Soul," with the infectious "You Can't Get What You Want," and then two from "Night and Day," including the near-perfect "Steppin' Out." He finished with "Different for Girls" and an especially spirited "On the Radio" (which left him a tad winded at 7,000 feet above sea level). He then played a faithful version of one of his childhood favorites, the Kinks' "Waterloo Sunset," as a segue-way into the early 20th century (apparently Ray Davies was a music-hall aficionado too).
The 8-song skip through his catalog was fun but it served as a reminder of so many great songs skipped over. Maybe he knows that even if he had the energy to perform with a full band and tear through "I'm the Man" or "Sunday Papers" he wouldn't attract many more fans. (As it was, the Lensic was sold out, including my unclaimed second ticket.) So why not swap out your tailored suit for a ringmaster's jacket and bring out a bunch of young ringers to romp through cheeky retro songs like "What a Racket!" and "The Bishop and the Actress."
As I suspected, he had an ace up his sleeve to prevent a stampede to the exits during the second half of the show (there were a number of walkouts as the music-hall set dragged on). As he has in the past, he reimagined his signature hit "Is She Really Going Out With Him" in that music-hall style (like the doo-wop versions he did back in the day), and it was charming as hell.
A few years ago, I recounted the story of how back in the day I amused by friends in a public spectacle by accusing Jackson of turning into the shlock-meister Marvin Hamlisch. This past weekend, in a twisted bout of nostalgia, I thought it would be fun to lean into that memory and give Joe Jackson a clean slate, see where we each are at in our lives.
By the time the familiar hits kicked in during that opening set, I settled into a pleasant bath of appreciation, an empty seat next to me providing extra elbow room. I had a fond regard for what those songs once meant and how they held up now. I appreciated that Jackson was comfortable at his little keyboard, dazzling us with his skills and dashing off mini-masterpieces. He hit the high notes on "Real Men." And then he switched gears and ironically wallowed in shlock for the second half of the show.
Maybe Joe Jackson has morphed into our generation's Marvin Hamlisch. But then, I've morphed into my dad at this point. I'm glad I went to the show, and I was probably better off alone. I've got great friends, but this was a lark I was destined to explore on my own. I hung out with Joe instead, and we're cool now.
BONUS TRACK
Our title track:
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