Stories behind memorable albums of the 1970s as told by the artists

Tag: Sellersville Theater 1894

Exchanging autographs with folk rock royalty Jim Messina

Jim Messina, of Buffalo Springfield, Poco and Loggins and Messina, performed Feb. 26, 2017, at the Sellersville Theatre 1894 in Sellersville, PA. (Photo by Mike Morsch)

Jim Messina, of Buffalo Springfield, Poco and Loggins and Messina, performed Feb. 26, 2017, at the Sellersville Theatre 1894 in Sellersville, PA.
(Photo by Mike Morsch)

My dad always said, “Even if you don’t know what you’re doing, act like you do. Act like you’ve been there before.”

He also practiced what he preached. One time several years ago he and my mom were at the Opryland Hotel in Nashville, Tennessee, during the filming of an Easter Seals telethon that was to feature performances by several country music stars. Seeing a clipboard laying unattended, Dad snapped it up and got into the area where the stars were waiting to perform, pretending to be, well, a guy with a clipboard acting like he had been there before. Before anyone figured out who he was, he had secured the autographs of Conway Twitty, Lee Greenwood, all of the Oak Ridge Boys and a then-unknown Vince Gill.

That lesson came in handy recently at a show by Jim Messina at the Sellersville Theatre 1894. Messina has a pretty good pedigree and a pretty big resume that includes being a singer, songwriter, guitarist, recording engineer and record producer as a member of some really good bands – Buffalo Springfield, Poco and Loggins and Messina.

I had interviewed Messina in November 2015 about his first album with Kenny Loggins – “Sittin’ In” from 1971 – for The Vinyl Dialogues Volume III: Stacks of Wax. We had a great conversation and Jim recalled the making of that album in great detail. He was a real pro and a nice guy during the interview and it made for an informative and entertaining chapter.

(Photo by Mike Morsch)

(Photo by Mike Morsch)

But I had not had the chance to see Messina perform live until the opportunity presented itself at the Sellersville Theatre. My pal Jack had an extra ticket to the show and asked if I would like to join him. Jack is the guy everybody wants to be. Retired at a young age and seemingly without a care in the world, Jack goes to about four concerts a week all over the Philadelphia region. He’s a volunteer usher at the Sellersville Theatre as well, which provides him with several of those opportunities. And as much as his wife likes him, she doesn’t go along to all of the concerts. Fortunately for me, she wasn’t on his dance card for the Messina show and I was next in line.

It was a great show. Messina is really good. He can sing and he can play. Jack’s tickets were down front in the cabaret seating, close to the stage. Messina’s set was heavy on Loggins and Messina stuff, specifically songs that he wrote or co-wrote, including “Listen to a Country Song” from the “Sittin’ In” album; a couple of Richie Furay songs from Buffalo Springfield, “Kind Woman” and “A Child’s Claim to Fame”; and “You Better Think Twice,” which Messina wrote for Poco that became a signature song for the band. The encore was “Your Mama Don’t Dance” by Loggins and Messina, which made it to No. 4 on the U.S. Billboard Hot 100 singles chart in 1972.

I had brought along a copy of The Vinyl Dialogues Volume III: Stacks of Wax that features the Messina interview with the hopes of being able to give it to Jim after the show. Fortunately, that opportunity presented itself when Messina announced from the stage that he would be signing autographs after the show.

A signed copy of the 1977 Loggins and Messina album "Finale." (Photo by Mike Morsch)

A signed copy of the 1977 Loggins and Messina album “Finale.”
(Photo by Mike Morsch)

In addition, I had also brought along the Loggins and Messina album “Finale” from 1977. I like the artwork on that album cover and I thought it would look cool with Messina’s autograph on it.

When I got to the front of the autograph line, I introduced myself, handed Messina a copy of the book and explained that we had done an interview more than a year ago for the book. It’s not unusual for artists, who do a lot of interviews, to not recall all of them. But as he was signing my album, he said, “Yeah, I remember that interview” in a tone that sounded like he really did remember our conversation.

Jim Messina has been there before. It was a kind and considerate response from someone who I consider among the folk rock royalty that is part of the soundtrack of my life.

Not one to dawdle in the autograph line, I took my signed album from Messina, thanked him again for the interview, and moved on so the next person could step up to meet him.

As I headed away from the crowd, I heard “Hey Mike!” I turned around, and it was Messina, holding the copy of the book I had just given him. “Can you sign this for me?”

Now it was my turn to act like I had been there before. Inside my head, the initial reaction was “Jim Messina of Buffalo Springfield, Poco and Loggins and Messina wants my autograph!” I could feel my feet preparing to break into the Snoopy Happy Dance. In truth, that type of reaction is probably not described as acting like you’ve been there before.

Fortunately, I have signed many of my books over the years. And I was able to maintain my composure. “Sure Jim,” I said as he handed me the book.

I wrote: “To Jim: Thanks for being part of this project” and then signed my name. At least I think that’s what I wrote. I hope it wasn’t “To Jim: Gleep loop snoodle puffftttt and hockfuzzle.” And I can’t say that it was the best autograph I’ve ever given as my hand was shaking just a bit from the excitement.

But it was a fun and unexpected ending to a great night of music. I love it when a story has a happy ending. Especially if it’s my story.

(Photo by Mike Morsch)

(Photo by Mike Morsch)

You can go home again: John Oates shines solo at ST94

John Oates, shown here at a 2104 summer Hall & Oates concert in Atlantic City, performed a solo gig at the Sellersville Theater Thursday, Sept. 25. (Photo by Mike Morsch)

John Oates, shown here at a 2104 summer Hall & Oates concert in Atlantic City, performed a solo gig at the Sellersville Theater Thursday, Sept. 25.
(Photo by Mike Morsch)

John Oates is comfortable coming home to Pennsylvania, especially when he performs solo gigs at the Sellersville Theater 1894.

As he is fond of saying when performing there, the theater holds a special place in his heart. It was where Oates, as a newly licensed driver in the mid-1960s, took a young lady from nearby Silverdale borough on his first car date to the venue to see a movie.

The locals will tell you that the intimate movie-theater-turned-concert venue has been the site of a lot of memorable moments ever since that Oates date.

And on Thursday night, Sept. 25, John Oates created another of those memories for himself. Six songs into his set, his drummer and bass player exited, leaving just Oates and his guitar on stage.

“I want to dedicate a song to my mom,” he said.

The Oates family is from North Wales, PA, in Montgomery County, the northwest suburbs of Philadelphia. A little further west in the county is where Daryl Hall grew up, just outside Pottstown, PA.

For years, at least at all the East Coast Hall & Oates shows that I’ve attended in Pennsylvania and New Jersey, John’s parents have been in the audience. They were there again in Sellersville Thursday evening.

Oates proceeded to relate a story about how when he was 5 or 6 years old, his mother had him perform at a local park, dressed to the nines in a red blazer. But the young Oates was more interested in getting some ice cream than he was in performing. In an effort to persuade her son to focus more on his song and less on the ice cream, Mrs. Oates insisted that the star of the show – a young Irish tenor by the name of Dennis Erickson – certainly was more interested in his music than he was ice cream and that John should be, too.

It was enough to do the trick, and John sang his song. It was the last time he sang that song until Thursday night.

The tune John dedicated to his mom was “Me and My Gal,” written in 1917 by George W. Meyer, Edgar Leslie and E. Ray Goetz. But it was Judy Garland and Gene Kelly who made it into a hit in the 1942 film of the same name.

And this is how music connects us. Not only did Oates create a special memory for himself and his mother, he created one for me as well.

Of the songs my mother used to sing to me as a toddler, the ones I remember are “Paper Doll” by the Mills Brothers. And “Me and My Gal” by Judy Garland and Gene Kelly.

But getting something special out of a John Oates solo concert isn’t at all unusual. As much as we all like the Hall & Oates concerts, they’re different than what Oates gives fans at a solo show. And different in this context is really good.

I love the Hall & Oates album “Abandoned Luncheonette” from 1973. In fact, interviews with Daryl and John about the making of that album were the inspiration for “The Vinyl Dialogues: Memorable albums of the 1970s as told by the artists.”

If you go to a Hall & Oates show, you’ll get “She’s Gone” and “Las Vegas Turnaround” off “Abandoned Luncheonette.” But if you go to a solo Oates show, you’ll get the Oates-penned “Had I Known You Better Then,” an absolutely great song and a personal favorite off that album.

Oates solo shows do feature H&O classics, like “Maneater,” “Out of Touch” and “You Make My Dreams Come True,” but they’re Oates versions of those songs, with Oates vocals, Oates interpretations, Oates arrangements and Oates tempos.

In addition to great storytelling to set up each song, the set list Thursday night featured “Camellia” (another personal H&O favorite), more recent solo efforts from Oates’ albums “Mississippi Mile” and “Good Road to Follow,” as well as performances of “It’s All Right” by Curtis Mayfield, “Come Back Baby” by Lightnin’ Hopkins, “Little Queenie” by Chuck Berry and “Deep River Blues” by Doc Watson.

Fortunately, there was a whole lot of good at this show that overshadowed a bit of the not-so-good.

We’ve all been to concerts and sat next to people who don’t know how to keep quiet during the performance. And Thursday night it was my turn to sit next to not one, but three of them.

Since it was on Oates’ home turf, in addition to his parents, he had a lot of friends and acquaintances in the audience, including a crowd from Temple University where he went to college. Part of this trip home for Oates includes his being presented – along with Brian Williams of NBC News and others – the Lew Klein Excellence in Media Award from the university. Klein is a Philadelphia-area philanthropist and former television executive who hired Dick Clark to host American Bandstand. The ceremony was scheduled for the night after this particular show.

So it was no surprise that the three women who sat next to me claimed to have some kind of connection to the star. As they took their seats 15 minutes before the show, one of the women announced, “Where are you John? Your high school sweetheart is here.”

Apparently, in his early years, Oates dated mostly jibber-jabberers who thought that rock shows were supposed to start 15 minutes earlier than the 8 p.m. time printed on the ticket. And this woman wouldn’t quit talking through the entire show. That not only shows a lack or respect for the artist, it’s rude to the people in the immediately vicinity who paid to hear John Oates perform.

I’m guessing one of the reasons that she’s not Mrs. John Oates today because she wouldn’t shut up long enough for him to propose to her back in the 1960s.

Nevertheless, it was the only glitch in an otherwise stellar performance by the bona fide Rock and Roll Hall of Famer and all-around nice guy.

I even called my mom on the way home after the show and we sang a line or two of “Me and My Gal” together over the phone.

Thanks to John Oates and his music, I was reminded of a cherished childhood memory of my own. And no amount of jibber-jabber can overshadow that.

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