Doobies, Adams hooked on the hits
It was before surprisingly strong gusts of wind blew through Fort Calgary Wednesday evening, that Bryan Adams seemed to break from his role as consummate showman to address the sweat-drenched crowd.
“It’s so damn hot, you would never know it was Calgary would you?” he muttered.
This was after Adams, in a crowd-pandering moment, suggested that the Stampede Roundup was Canada’s best concert, or something like that.
It probably isn’t. But it is the Stampede’s biggest private party and found 18,000 revellers hit Fort Calgary for a scorching marathon of liquorlubricated rock ’n’ roll and expertly wrought nostalgia from headliners The Doobie Brothers and Adams. And before the winds hit, it was hot. Real hot. Inevitably, it wasn’t long before the combination of sweltering heat and free-flowing booze had people dropping and medics scurrying.
So after an impressive opening by Calgary’s the Dudes, a peaceful, easy set by the Doobie Brothers was just what the doctor ordered: pleasant but not too taxing and perfect for those who just wanted to nod their heads gently and sing along.
This is not to say the California veterans didn’t give it their all. But the Doobies are all about polished craft, impeccable harmonies and virtuoso guitar solos slipped in between dreamy hooks. So what if their idea of showmanship, for the most part, was to saunter to the foot of the stage when it was time for another impressive solo? These guys have got it down to a science. Opening with one-two boogie punch of Jesus is Just Alright and Rockin’ Down The Highway, the eight-piece was in fine voice, even if the sound system didn’t always do them justice. Strangely, for a band that trades in nostalgia, some of the highlights came when they were being most indulgent. The fleet-fingered acoustic-guitar runs by Patrick Simmons and John McFee on the instrumental Neal’s Fandago and prog-rock excursion Clear as the Driven Snow were nice, intimate moments that would have made Richard Thompson proud.
As with most bands of a certain vintage, some of the Doobies’ songs are more evergreen than others: the paint-by-numbers R&B World Gone Crazy doesn’t quite stand up to tunes such as the yearning and soulful South City Midnight Lady or the boogie workout Eyes of Silver, for instance. But, let’s face it, the crowd was there for the hits, which were delivered with a passion that went far beyond mere journeyman’s craft. A nicely amped-up China Grove, extended Long Train Runnin’ and mellowgrooved Listen to the Music offered a fitting climax.
Adams followed with the same knack for crowd-pleasing. With volume levels set somewhat low (or am I just going deaf after too many concerts?), the 54-year-old nevertheless poured a good deal of energy into opening numbers Run to You and Somebody, both taken from those heady years when he was one of the most popular singers on the planet. In fact, it became clear as he ran through hit after hit that no matter how generic the sentiment might seem in his meat-andpotatoes rock, his sturdy melodies have seared into the minds of generations. Even his lesserknown hits — Here I Am, The Only Thing That Looks Good On Me is You, and a bellowing run through Hearts on Fire — became singalongs. Demonstrating typical Canadian modesty, he ordered that the stage cameras be turned on an attractive, blackhatted singer throughout his slinkly take on the blues growler, If You Wanna Be Bad, You Gotta Be Good. Adams pulled out his acoustic guitar and made hearts flutter with the ballad (Everything I Do) I Do It You before hitting an early peak with playful performances of Cuts Like a Knife and Summer of ’69. As of press time, the acoustic guitar had come back out for spirited runs through When You’re Gone and I Thought I’d Seen Everything. Will the crowd remember it all in the morning?
Maybe not. But Adams certainly offered a reminder of why he can still fill stadiums, even if he hasn’t released significant new material in years.
For a day that consisted of the casino-ready classic rock of the Doobies and earnest strains of Adams, Calgary’s the Dudes may have seemed like a bit of an odd choice for an opener.
“I’m sick of having a bad time, let’s do this,” leader singer Dan Vacon said, somewhat cryptically, before offering a blistering set that was both dynamic and occasionally irreverent. An expressive singer and extremely funny frontman, Vacon was clearly enjoying his time on the big stage, even engaging in an illadvised knee-slide at one point. (It was somewhat less impressive than Springsteen, but it did manage to severely damage his skinny black jeans.)
The four-piece, who have been perfecting their sound since 1996, responded to the enthusiasm of early concertgoers with stadiumsized charisma and tight interplay. But for all the energy, singalongs and duelling-guitar crunch, the Dudes main stock and trade is memorable songs about girlfriends (both good and “awful”), cops and “living in the Rockies.” From the charging Pretty Life to the cheerfully sour kiss-off Not S’pose to Call, the band generated some serious heat on stage. Not that any more heat was really necessary.