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For any of you who don't know who Paul Westerberg is, he used to be the singer & songwriter for the Replacements. He's also someone who hasn't played publicly for years because he gets anxiety attacks gigging live--especially if it's just him solo, like this show.
Anyways, I was wondering if any of you have been to shows where there's a total farktard that completely ruins the show. Also, short of throwing a punch (& thereby getting yourself kicked out), I'm curious if anybody has inventive ways of dealing with hecklers.
Oh, yeah. The gig review (@ an in-store show in San Francisco):
"Paul was about 15 minutes late when some guys behind me became
restless and started yelling out Goo Goo Dolls song titles. I only
half heard what was going on, but it was clear that their behavior had
started a minor argument with some other folks. Paul came out a few
minutes later, wearing a beige suit covered in paint splotches, a
bright green western-style shirt, bowling shoes and shades. He
recognized a group of three or four guys who had caught the Seattle
and Portland shows (I didn't talk to them, but I overheard them
talking about the trek) and said, "No, not you fuckers again. I'm
sick of looking at you guys."
The moment Paul picked up his guitar, I was shoved hard from behind.
(Keep in mind that the crowd really isn't that big, and everyone has a
generous amount of personal space.) He had his arms folded and
pressed into my back, so I turned around and said, "Are you going to
hug me?"
"What?" he mumbled without moving back.
"You want to take a few steps back or do you planning on hugging me
the whole show?"
He looked at me for a few long seconds, apparently not noticing that I
was a head taller, and said, "Only if you buy me a drink, bitch."
Paul kicked into a laid back rendition of The Best Thing That Never
Happened and I stared this idiot down until he became uncomfortable
enough to take a step back. I wasn't going to miss the show because
of some jackass who wanted to rub up against me, even though the urge
to headbutt him was almost irresistible. Next, Paul comfortably slid
into Lookin' Out Forever and I felt somebody push my shoulder aside.
I turned around again and glared at him for a really long time, just
trying to fight the urge to kill. My wife put her arm around me and
told me not to kill him until the show was over. I turned back around
and felt someone grab her arm and yank it off me. I spun around ready
to spit blood, and saw her fists in the air about to swing. It
happened fast, but apparently the idiot's friend thought that her arm
was his, and in trying to stop a fight he pulled it away. He
apologized profusely and wisely moved his friend about 5 feet to the
side of me.
I put it out of my mind as Paul moved into a medley of Eyes Like
Sparks and Dylan. He kept muffing the lyrics to the Dylan song (I
can't even think of the title, so I understand) and interjected,
"There's only one good line anyway." He seemed in really good spirits
and quickly eased into a confident and a relatively flub-free set of
Mats classics and new and recent solo tunes. There wasn't a whole lot
of chatter between songs and he really seemed to be giving his all.
It was a really emotionally charged performance, with many
lump-in-the-throat moments.
Unfortunately, my antagonizer decided to start heckling. The first
thing he yelled--after Paul flubbed the Dylan lyrics--was "Play
something you know!" After Paul spat out a few lines of some UK (he
sang with a British accent) punk song that I probably should know but
don't, the idiot yelled out, "Play something you know that's good!"
Paul was clearly pissed off at that point, but brushed it off and took
it in stride.
The guy just kept up the heckling, though. He talked and laughed
through the quietest songs and kept screaming out completely moronic
comments. For instance, when Paul started playing Swinging Party, the
guy decides to break the spell by screaming, "Is this one of those
Replacements songs?" After a tremendously moving rendition of Lush
and Green, where Paul added heartbreaking lyrics that explicitly
detailed the suicide of a friend ("She ended her life as best she
could/That morning in Emily Woods"), I thought that the heckler was
shut up for good, but he yelled something idiotic and some real anger
flashed across Paul's face as he said, "I still know how to fight."
Paul glared at him to let him know that he was serious, and
unbelievably, the guy actually muttered, "I better shut up now."
Unfortunately, he did not shut up. Just a couple songs later and he
was talking to his buddies, laughing at Paul's most emotional moments,
and occasionally belting out some out of tune lyrics (I should point
out that the show was very quiet and the rest of the audience listened
in complete silence--followed by enthusiatic applause of course).
When Paul went to the side of the stage to change from his dark shades
to some light blue-tinted glasses, the idiot yelled, "Rock star!"
Paul, still trying to keep his good humor, stepped up to the mike and
said, "That's rock and roll star." Everyone applauded and when it got
quiet again he added, "Actually, I just wanted to see who was heckling
me," and shot another long stare in the asshole's direction. Again,
this idiot muttered something about it being "time to shut up before I
get my ass kicked." And again, he apparently couldn't control
himself.
Paul started playing Someone Take the Wheel on his hollow body, but
after the first verse it was clear that the guitar was tuned wrong.
"This is fucking F," he said as he took the guitar off and handed it
to his tech guy. He strapped on an acoustic and picked up the wrong
amp cord. His roadie tried to get his attention and give him the
right cord, but Paul was a little too frustrated to see what was going
on. At that point, the guy behind me yelled, "That was a real Sonny
Bono move!"
For a split second, Paul looked like he was going to fight back with
another joke, but instead he got pissed. "Sonny Bono? That's it," he
said as he flung down his guitar. He bolted off the stage, broke
right through the movie theater-style barricade between him and
audience and went straight for this asshole. I involuntarily
exclaimed, "Exactly! Thank you!" as Paul shot past me and wrapped
both hands around the guy's neck. He throttled him one
quarter-jokingly/three quarters-roughly for a few seconds, then pulled
one hand back to punch him in the face. He stopped short, and with
one hand wrapped firmly around the guy's neck he slapped him hard
across the face. Paul turned quickly and stormed away from the stage
and up the escalator. The crowd was completely silent and Paul
clearly muttered, "Thanks, Bob," as he made his way to the second
floor.
When he was halfway up the escalator and it was clear that he was
going, the crowd burst into applause, no doubt hoping that they could
coax him back. Paul waved over the railing and disappeared upstairs.
Everyone fell completely silent and turned accusingly to the asshole,
who was beet red. I couldn't tell if he was embarrassed or inflamed
from Paul's all too gentle beating, but this guy was frozen in his
tracks. In the dead silence I called out, "He's right here if anybody
wants to kick his ass!" As a small, but solid, guy pushed his way
through the crowd, I thought it was going to happen, but he just got
right up in his face, poked him hard in the chest and said, "Get up on
that stage and apologize to everyone. Right now!"
The heckler sheepishly walked up to the stage, but the roadie started
yelling at him to get off and then gave him another push back into the
crowd. The same audience member got right up in his face again and
snarled, "Apologize."
"I tried," the moron said weakly. For some reason, he and his two
friends just stood shell-shocked while everyone else looked on, most
of them trying to figure what exactly had just happened. His friends
decided to slowly usher him out, and since I felt that the asshole
hadn't been humilated enough, I yelled out to the silent crowd,
"Somebody's got to kick his ass on the way out!"
Well, nobody did, and I'm actually glad for that since I'm usually not
such an instigator, but I did feel that the memory of the public
humiliation he suffered would prevent him from proudly retelling "Paul
Westerberg kicked my ass" stories for the rest of his life.
Everyone shook their heads and started to shuffle off, certain that
Paul was gone for good. A Virgin employee announced that Paul would
be signing on the second floor and most of us headed up the escalator,
not really expecting to get anything signed or shake the hand of the
man who had just put on such an
amazing/horrible/beautiful/painful/hilarious/pissed off performance.
We all sort of naturally fell into a long line in front an empty
table, and soon there was an announcement that Paul was "calming down"
and would be out in a few minutes. As I expected, the concept of the
signing passes was pretty ill-conceived. Nobody could really enforce
the rule that "those with passes go first" and nobody even really
tried. Everyone fell into line as they came up the escalator and
there were no arguments as far as I could see.
Of course, most everyone was trying to process what had happened, and
I had to tell the whole story a number of times as more and more
people tried to gather all the details. Paul waited long enough for
the general mood of the crowd to change, and my little section of the
line discussed how the SF show was probably just as long as the other
shows and probably better in many ways. He eventually shambled out
and took a seat in front of a corner window. It took me about 20
minutes to get up to the front and I saw that Paul was clearly having
a difficult time.
This was no normal CD signing. Many people took just a few seconds to
say a few words and have him sign the disc, but there were many others
who engaged Paul for a decent length of time. A few people in front
of me had what appeared to be some lengthy heart-to-hearts. Paul
became fully engaged with these people and was clearly willing to
speak to anyone for as long as they wanted. Nobody seemed to take
advantage of this, but as some people left the table, Paul was very
emotional and needed to take a few moments to rub his eyes and take a
deep breath. The kid in front of me moved in very close to Paul and
after only a few moments of speaking, Paul rose from his seat, gently
cradled the back of the boy's head and kissed him on the cheek. Paul
sat back and spoke with him for a few minutes before my turn was up.
I waited a few seconds as he took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.
He looked up at the Virgin employee who was guiding the line and gave
a look that said, "This is getting tough." I decided to lighten his
load with an enthusiastic handshake. "I had your back, man," I said
jokingly.
"What?" He was still in a bit of an emotional fog.
"I had your back. We could've taken him."
He chuckled and rolled his eyes. "There's always one asshole. What
are you gonna do?"
"Well, I thought slapping him was a damn good idea," I said.
I introduced him to my wife and he took my CD out of my hands to sign.
We told him what a beautiful performance it was as his pen hovered
over my disc trying to place the best spot to sign his name. Instead
of signing it, he leaned back and said, "Well, the sound was much
better here than at the other two shows, that's for sure." He was
obviously willing to hold a relaxed conversation, with no pressure to
move on to the next one in line, but I only wanted to thank him and
shake his hand, so he signed my disc and we were on our way.
I was really impressed with how open and genuine he was with the fans.
On the ride home, listening to Stereo for the first time, I
recognized the same openess and genuine sentiment that I had seen in
person. He's obviously a troubled man, which makes his empathy and
williness to connect on a personal level with his troubled fans all
the more impressive.
It was an amazing show." |
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