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Chris Botti? If you're reading this you have a free coffee coming!
My name is Alyssa Mollo, I'm twenty-five years old, and I teach high school English in Northeastern PA, about ninety minutes from NYC.
I first saw Chris Botti in State College, PA, back on March 23, 2007. This was the same concert where my mother, Holly, revealed to Chris that it was she who suggested the song, "What Are You Doing the Rest of Your Life?" to Sting. After that show, which was fantastic, I wished I had known more about Chris' music, and this past weekend I got my second chance.
It started with a strange dream on Thursday night, in which Chris Botti made a cameo. Nothing inappropriate, just talking over coffee, but completely out of the blue. I followed the hint and looked up his tour schedule, only to find that he would be in my area that weekend.
I thought it might be too late to get tickets to the Upper Darby show on Saturday, but his next stop was in Albany, NY, on Sunday. Upon further research I learned that he was the grand finale to the annual three-day Tulip Festival in Washington Park.
I weighed my options - it's a three hour drive to Albany from my apartment in the Poconos, but the weather was perfect, and the show was early enough in the afternoon so I would get home at a decent hour.
By nine AM I was on the road.
I listened to A Thousand Kisses Deep most of the way, to get in the mood.
I arrived in Albany at almost exactly noon, but it took until after one to find a decent parking spot ("decent" meaning that I did not have to step over broken glass or pay ten dollars to stay for the day). I stepped out of my car, locked it several times, and headed for the park across Madison Ave.
The place was packed! One section was all tulips in various planted arrangements, all bright colors and designs. Another section was called the Kidzone, full of inflatable games and arts and crafts. There was a side stage by a pond that featured different entertainers every two hours or so, and every walkway was crammed with food vendors and artisans as far as the eye could see.
The main stage was at the front of what looked to be the largest open field in Washington Park, and jazz musicians were performing all day. After wandering the festival for a while, I sat down on the grass less than ten feet from the stage, and waited. At this point it was only about 3:30 and Chris wasn't scheduled to go on for another hour.
I caught the end of a good jazz singer named Kevin Mahogany; which was then followed by a crowning of a "Mother of the Year," hosted by the sponsoring radio stations, the recently-crowned "Tulip Queen," and the mayor of Albany. When these festivities were over, the stage was set up for Chris and his band, and the crowd began to gather.
I guess I had forgotten how rude people can be.
A large gentleman plopped down in front of me and promptly removed his shirt. The mayor himself told the man to put his clothing back on.
A woman walked forward pushing an elderly woman in a wheelchair, large mylar Mother's day balloons tied to the handles, and stopped in front of the stage. When politely asked to sit down, since she and the balloons were blocking peoples' view, she retaliated with a gesture I had only read about with my students in Romeo and Juliet. She then proceeded to stand in the same place for the entire performance.
Some women beside me started talking about the show, not knowing anything about Chris aside from the "Caroline Rhea Show." I told them about the concert I had seen and gave them my rave review, and they both sat up a little straighter.
Finally, after all the preparations were made, and the Mayor reminded the gentleman in front of me to keep his shirt on, they introduced Chris Botti.
The concert had barely begun when a gentleman walked up to the stage and raised his hand, shouting, at the band.
Chris asked into the microphone, "So we're doing question and answer now?"
I couldn't hear all of what the man was saying, but Chris' part of the dialogue sounded like this:
"Do I know Miles Davis? Yes; do you? You played with Miles Davis? Well, then you're really going to like this…" Chris managed to segue the little interruption into their first song.
I don't know if Chris heard him, but at the end of the number I heard the gentleman turn to some people at the front of the audience and say, "He's not Miles Davis, but he's close!"
He was clearly impressed, and he wasn't the only one. My new-found friends were smiling and tapping along, occasionally nodding to me to say, "he's good!"
I apologize for not having written down a complete set list, but it was very similar to the tracks played at the other concert, albeit shorter. Fewer drum and guitar solos, and the absence of songs like "Hallelujah" cut the show down to fit within the given time frame. Highlights included the theme from Cinema Paradiso, and "My Funny Valentine." A few numbers featured a female soloist, and they were proud to announce that she had been with them for a grand total of thirteen hours. It should be said, however, that she did a beautiful job. I especially enjoyed the lyrics to one song about a long drive or long road home, and I wish I would have taken note of the title (Any hints out there? If you know, please tell me!).
The performance also included a lot of the same banter that I guess has become part of this tour's repertoire: the fire-engine red guitar as best suited for David Hasselhoff's band ("with apologies to Mr. Hasselhoff if he's here today"); Google's "Did You Mean?" button as an inexpensive therapist; losing a Grammy award to two guys named Tony and Stevie; and his campaign to pull "Saturday Night Live" from the airwaves if not just so his bassist didn't need to be rushed back to NYC every week.
The show was only scheduled to go until 5:45, but we all wished it could have gone on later. The band seemed annoyed with something about the sound system - apparently one of the amps or speakers was blasting one instrument above the others - but it didn't affect the quality of the music as far as we could hear. Everything was wonderful, and Chris was as personable as ever. His quick thinking seemed to serve him well with this crowd.
One gentleman went up to the stage to give the band a peace sign, or the best he could in an apparently inebriated state. I thought it was poor judgment to have a vendor with alcoholic beverages next to the stage (and beside a virtual reality hybrid vehicle driving experience, I might add), as it probably accounted for most of the "heckling" from the audience. The gentleman then got so into the music that he decided to dance. His movements most closely resembled those found at a party hosted by the "Peanuts" gang, and while some members of the audience couldn't help but laugh, the musicians themselves kept their cool and managed to restrict themselves to just a smile.
At about 5:30 the women next to me stood to leave and wished me a safe drive home. At this point, they were not the only ones to start moving. Several people either left to beat the crowds, or not-so-subtly shifted forward to get in line for merchandise and autographs. Not one to miss an opportunity, I got up and stood directly in front of the stage among several others, not blocking anyone's view, and watched the last number ("Indian Summer" - one of my favorites) from there.
After the group bow the emcee reminded us that Chris would be out to sign autographs and take pictures, then everyone left the stage. Many people cleared out, but two long lines formed on either side of the merchandise table. I stood patiently in the same spot and lined up my camera phone to try and snap a picture when he first walked out. After maybe ten minutes I heard the screams and saw the security personnel step out from behind the stage, and one charming officer (who had seen me setting up the shot) stepped directly in my line of sight at the last possible moment. Thanks ever so much, sir, but I digress…
Chris was seated at one end of the merchandise table and kindly smiled, signed autographs, and took pictures with everyone in line. He was charming and friendly, and I'm sure he made several new fans that afternoon.
As I was standing in line, among the throngs but up against the railing by the stage, one gentleman who was restocking the merchandise looked at me for a moment, then said hello. Out of all those in line, he was talking to me. I returned the greeting and asked if he was Jeremy. It was. I retold the story from State College and he smiled. He recognized me! He asked if my mother was there (a little Mother's Day bonus), and I replied that she and my father couldn't attend because they were away for their anniversary. That, and I live the closest to Albany.
He remembered meeting Holly with a big smile on his face, how she was so happy to finally set the story straight. I complimented Jeremy on his memory. The dialogue went something like this:
"You recognized me? You're good. You're a good manager."
"Why, because I remember people?"
"Yes! It was one concert almost two months ago."
He noticed that I "got some sun" (although I didn't know quite how much until I got my pictures back), and asked what I was looking for on the merchandise table. I said I didn't need an autograph, I just wanted to say hello again. Jeremy shrugged and turned away to continue restocking, still smiling.
I finally got closer to the front of the line and saw that there were two lines feeding in from either side. I got my camera ready, then turned to the man behind me in line.
Oddly enough, he was a photographer.
"You look like you know what you're doing," I said, "would you please take a picture for me?"
He was very nice and agreed to do so, no problem, but laughed when he saw my dinky little disposable camera.
"I haven't used one of these in ages!" he said with a smile, readjusting the straps on one of the professional cameras he had around his shoulders.
The man behind him suggested, "Why don't you ask him to take it with one of his?"
We both agreed that wouldn't work -- having to trust the mail, etc. - but I thanked him again and turned back around in line.
It was almost my turn, if the right lane/left lane pattern kept up, but like lines of merging traffic when stuck in highway construction, some people don't quite know how it's supposed to work.
I was on Chris' left and he was finishing an autograph for the person on his right. I started to step forward when the next person in the other line jumped in front. Even Chris noticed the gaffe and touched my arm reassuringly, saying, "I'm sorry. Just a minute," and turned back to the other person. He never stopped being polite and smiling for anyone; a true professional.
When it finally was my turn, he turned with a smile and shook my hand. Now, we had made eye contact a few times during the concert, and I think he vaguely recognized me from somewhere but couldn't place it. As I had done for Jeremy, I briefly recounted the story about my mom and Sting, and an even bigger smile came over his face. We chatted briefly about the show and I kept complimenting him on how wonderful it was. Since I only had a limited amount of time before the next person could step in, I said that he took a picture with my mother, but I never had the chance to do the same. He quickly stood up and put his arm around my waist, positioned by my new photographer friend with the sun behind us for a picture. We stepped apart, he thanked me for coming out, and I said I wouldn't think to miss it! Thanked him again for the show, thanked my photographer for his help, and waved a "take care" to Jeremy before I left the line.
I walked around backstage where the bassist was playing with his daughter, and the drummer was discussing technique with a fan. I got to talk with the bassist about the show in State College, and how my father (who also plays guitar and bass) barely blinked during the whole performance. That he had blown him away. He put out his hand to shake mine, and thanked me for the compliment! At this point, the drummer had finished his conversation, and I asked if I could get a picture of the two of them. They were happy to oblige, and I was able to finish off my roll of film on a very high note.
It was a beautiful day for a road trip, the concert was amazing, and I'm proud to have my pictures and sunburn as mementos.
Although Chris, if you're reading this, I would still like to buy you a cup of coffee.
Alyssa Mollo