2004-05-14

http://www.pjstar.com/news/local/b312o9qk021.html

May 15, 2004

By PHIL LUCIANO

Journal Star critic

PEORIA - Joe Walsh put on a show Thursday, and he brought along The Eagles.

Goodness knows why he bothered with the back-up. By far, his songs brought the
hugest ovations from the near-capacity crowd at the Peoria Civic Center's Carver
Arena. Maybe he should play solo and charge one-fourth the price.

Sure, the rest of the band sounded fantastic. So do CDs. Thankfully, the loopy
Walsh injected a little life and levity into the oft-staid performance.

The stage was simple but large, with enough room for eight sidemen, including a
quartet of horns, plus a wall of screens that occasionally flashed tranquil
background images. On each side rose giant screens to give up-close views for
the fans who sat way back, unwilling to pony up $125 for the best seats at the
most expensive concert in Civic Center history.

Seventeen minutes late, to an overwhelming ovation, the band casually strode
onto the stage. Glenn Frey looked California casual, clad in a black T-shirt,
jeans and sports jacket. Don Henley mirrored many of the men in the audience,
wearing khakis and an undocked button-down shirt. Timothy B. Schmit wore several
hundred pounds of waist-length hair.

And shaggy-haired Walsh looked like a fashion-don't, with a baggy sweatshirt,
camouflage pants and black sneakers. Obviously, he's not spending much of his
concert cut at any men's clothing stores. If he was going for the court-jester
look, he nailed it.

The night began with "The Long Run," an apt start for a show that lasted 3 hours
and 20 minutes. That included a 20-minute intermission taken less than an hour
into the concert. I don't know why the band needed a break so early; maybe they
wanted to go backstage and count their money.

As for the set list, you know exactly what was played: "Peaceful Easy Feeling,"
"One of These Nights," "Tequila Sunrise" - all the songs that have carried
classic-rock radio for decades.

Musically, the high point might've been Schmit's falsetto, soaring prettily on
"I Can't Tell You Why." Indeed, all of their voices rang sweetly all night,
though Frey can't come anywhere close to filling "Take It to the Limit" as well
as the long-departed Randy Meisner.

Few groups can boast an oeuvre like The Eagles'. Plus, they threw in all of
their solo hits. But for most of the night, they didn't do anything with the
songs. For example, the guitar solo in "Hotel California" sounded exactly like
it does on the album. You can look at that two ways: the band plays impeccably,
yet has no imagination.

Perhaps they should take the reins off Walsh. Though he's a fantastic guitar
player, during the first set he just played rhythm, letting lead duties fall to
Stuart Smith (the replacement for the ousted Don Felder). Smith is proficient,
but Walsh knows how to improvise. During his own tune, "Life's Been Good," he
launched into a nifty solo, bringing a humongous roar from the crowd.

The rest of the band played rote. Moreover, for most of the night, Frey, Henley
and Schmit played the part of statues, moving only when changing instruments or
mike positions, and only occasionally addressing the audience.

(However, Frey did get off a really good crack. In introducing "Lyin' Eyes," he
said, "This song I'd like to dedicate to my first wife, Plaintiff.")

But as the night wore on, Walsh couldn't stay in place. He clowned around here
and there, strutting around with a construction helmet on his head (a nod to
Caterpillar?) and dashing back and forth across the stage. And when he screwed
up a few lines in "Rocky Mountain Way," he laughed - and the crowd laughed along
with him. It was a refreshing moment, a flash of humanity amid the polished
robotics.

Later, as super-serious Henley crooned "All She Wants to Do Is Dance," Frey
repeatedly jumped from his piano bench and delighted the crowd with some
funky-chicken dance moves. He's no Fred Astaire, but at least he looked like he
was having fun - and the crowd ate it up.

Actually, the crowd enjoyed just about everything and often warbled along with
their favorites. But the mood never hit a party atmosphere; it was more of a
campground sing-along. Much of the crowd never left the seats, as the band
(except for the five Walsh numbers) never got raucous.

Or, maybe the fans, most of them in their 40s and 50s, were just being polite;
this was a well-scrubbed crowd, the air thick with the scent of Life Boy rather
than weed.




inteL8er,

RDB
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