The sound quality lacked the glaring metallic nature that many stadiums promote. Instead, it sounded understated, the product of about 1,500 permanently installed speakers and 300 mobile modules mostly hidden behind the screen. It was like Henley was in my living room and not encased in a multi-billion dollar freak of industrial design. 

What I found to be a charming performance of people enjoying the final throes of a great American rock band made others in my group depressed. Their criticisms of humiliating Baby Boomers displaying slovenly behavior while the whole world is falling apart fell short. This didn’t feel like the circus at the fall of Rome, but rather an endearing display of human delight.

“Shadow” drips with PawPaw Rod’s signature funk and finesse while hinging on this theme of internal tug-of-war.

Hunter’s exuberance highlighted the necessity and value of shows where performers actually want to perform, where putting on a show is an art rather than a quota to fulfill…

They are no longer ours in any way, lost to the hands of new partners and new identities. Soon we have fields of nasty weeds within our hearts.