I don’t go to pop concerts very often.  In fact, the only one I can think I’ve been to in the last 5 years was Santana at the Forest Hills stadium.  Quite a treat.  Magnificent energy and masterful guitar playing.

But there was a time when I did a lot of them.  The most memorable ones were at Chastain Park in Atlanta and the Amphitheater in St. Louis.  I got to see many of my long-time favorites like Boston, Supertramp, Chicago, Kansas, The Who, Foreigner…

One evening was particularly memorable.  The year was 1993.  It was a lazy early summer evening.  My boss had invited me to join a dinner and concert event with a key client.  The sun was still hitting the stage at Chastain Park Amphitheater.  The dinner table a level up, front row,  dead center.

It was the opening act for what later would be good but not memorable performances by Steppenwolf and Jefferson Starship.  On stage came this blond/albino guy with a guitar player to his left, a base player to his right and a drummer in the back.  The first note, the first bar, was crystal clear like pure fresh water and my ears fell in love with the music.  Perfectly tight, in sync.  It was all very well paused and perfectly timed.  Then the guy’s voice started rising in what turned out to be one of many guttural primal cries.  The song was “Tobacco Road” and the albino was Edgar Winter.

Edgar considers himself a blues man.  And he’s a specialist of the “primal cry” that John Lennon himself also perfected.  Edgar is also a fabulous keyboard player and pretty good with the saxophone.  I would probably catalogue him as a musical virtuoso.

They only played three songs that night and that was it.  It was an opening act after all.   The second one was a 20 minute rendition of Frankenstein, filled with improvisation and virtuosity.  These four guys were just together.  And Winter was all over the map (or the pentagram!) with his voice and his keyboard, alternating with the saxophone.  Amazing how he could run very fast arpeggios exactly in sync with his voice and his keyboard.  An enviable ear.  The guitarist, Rick Derringer, could hold his own against Edgar Winter in crisp fluid harmonic sound.

The studio version of Frankenstein which I added to my spontaneous musical meditations is a lot of fun.  It’s a simple tune with crisp instrumentation and fabulous atmosphere.  Great energy.  Particularly love the “UFO landing” moment.  It’s pretty well musically balanced, with a central theme that comes back a few times and a  middle with alternating themes and solos.  Frankenstein got its name after it was recorded because of the heavy studio editing done to it, the “cut and paste” of sounds to get it just right.

Even with today’s fabulous stereos and multi-channel entertainment centers, there is something very personal and touching about live performances.  This is very true in classical, particularly chamber.  But in pop it holds true as well.  And not many bands can put it together to get the perfect sound live.  Edgar Winter and his three friends were a masterful example of being present in the moment and perfectly musically tight.

Thank you Edgar.