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Todd Rundgren
Live & Alone
March 24th 1975
I was ecstatic about finally seeing Todd Rundgren doing a solo gig that was billed as a career retrospective. I became interested in him when he had a hit with the tongue in cheek adolescent anthem We Gotta Get You a Woman. It was politically incorrect for the times and a guilty pleasure to be sure. I recall Rundgren defending it in an early interview but it didn’t really matter. We loved him anyway – his sense of humor, his wavering tenor and his incredible craft as a songwriter and producer. His fans learned early on that Rundgren something special. His halcyon days with Nazz resulted in three LPs and two great songs Open My Eyes and Hello Its Me. Stardom proved elusive and he left the band before the release of their last LP.
Rundgren wrote and produced two promising solo LPs entitled Runt (1970) and Runt: The Ballad of Todd Rundgren (1971). He was developing an eclectic style from blues based rock of Broke Down & Busted to the piano pop of Baby Let’s Swing and Long Flowing Robe to the straight up rock & roll of Who’s That Man. In ’72 he hit his stride with an overly ambitious double album that he recorded primarily as a one man show with an elite crew of guest musicians such as Hunt (drums) and Tony Sales (bass), Rick Derringer (guitar), Mark Klingman (keys), the Brecker Brothers (horns), Rick Vito (guitar) and several backing vocalists including Richard Corey, Hope Ruff, Dennis Cooley and Vicki Robinson. It was a near masterpiece and it prompted the music industry to sit up and take notice of this wunderkind talent. He was a child prodigy who could sing, play multiple instruments, produce and record his own music. He was ahead of the learning curve and embraced recording technology like a new lover reaching multiple orgasms.
I bought every LP he released leading up to his incredible 1973 LP, the incredible A Wizard; A True Star and the iconic 1974 double LP Todd. In my mind these discs were the perfect soundtrack of the years I lived in Ann Arbor. All my deep personal changes occurred on the back streets within and beyond campus life. I began to see another way of being. I never perfectly held it and I would lapse, lie and steal hearts and not give a damn. It took years to reconcile that which was true and loving with my profound fear and distrust of the world. It was the beginning of my internal work. Todd Rundgren’s music helped me reflect what a real man could be. It was a revelation.
I was confused by Rundgren’s sonic experimentation that began in 1973 but I was intrigued with his musical evolution through the Utopia project. I knew about his facility for irreverence and irony and the intelligent design he created as he pushed musical boundaries into the cosmos. These were traits that served him well as a balance to his obsessive perfectionism.
In this 1974 concert at the Masonic Auditorium in Detroit, I was goofing with a few friends, smoking some weed to balance the effects of alcohol, or so I thought. Rundgren wasted no time in getting to the point. He was doing a solo performance with a tape deck providing the musical backdrop. Rundgren would sing and play live to this accompaniment, guitar for the heavier songs and piano for his more contemplative moments. He joked around in-between songs and proved to be a likeable and compelling presence throughout the show . He had a distinct quality of not taking himself too seriously and would laugh or comment when his voice would crack or go off sharp or flat. It happens to the best popmeister rockers. He opened the show with the majestic International Feel followed in quick succession by Never Never Land a nod to his Peter Pan youthfulness) and Zen Archer. The taped loops acted up a bit during this triad of songs as the backing vocals, instrumental segments would screech and claw and make a mess of some the parts. Todd was in good voice during this part of the show, not too many cracks and groans. He stays on key with the softer piano based songs but has trouble singing and playing the guitar especially the heavier rock sounds. Rundgren was actually in pretty good form. It seemed that nothing could ruffle his feathers. He just smiled and laughed it off, further endearing himself to his loyal fans. He would talk between songs like he was on the back porch goofing with old friends. In the intro to It Wouldn’t Have Made Any Difference he references Something/Anything his stoned solo masterpiece. He’s right in the pocket with this bittersweet ballad. He stays within his vocal range and is comfortable just holding the microphone. This is one of his more contemplative “love’s gone bad” songs. Rundgren starts a rap about commercial music…”I’m Todd Rundgren from K-Tel Records. See if you remember this one” is the lead-in to his 1972 hit I Saw the Light. His vocal is spot on as he accompanies himself on piano. He follows with another great ballad A Dream Goes on Forever. It has a wistful essence that evokes both hope and sadness. Perfect!
The next tune changes the mood in a dramatic fashion. Entitled the Lord Chancellor’s Nightmare Song, it is a rap about love, nightmare like love. Love that is unrequited and “robs me of me sleep.” It’s a hoot and a lot of fun as Rundgren breathlessly chants the verses at optimal speed , simple chords and an unrelenting 4/4 organ pattern…an updated 17th century opera. Hello It’s Me follows. This was a B-side with his first band The Nazz (1968) and it is simply stunning. Rundgren’s singing is nuanced and his piano playing provides the perfect backdrop for this ode to a former lover and evokes a sense of sadness and unfinished business. He had trouble hitting the high falsetto on the bridge. I remember really getting into the “think of me” refrain in the extended coda. It evoked memories of a former girlfriend. The next tune was Piss Aaron that seemed to drag on forever. This Rundgren clunker referenced nit-wits we knew in high school from the above mentioned Aaron to Dumb Larry and Chuck Biscuit. Rundgren plays around with some props like a big pile of fake puke. The crowd loved it. I did not. It proved to be the nadir (for me) of an otherwise great performance. He finished with a metal anthem Heavy Metal Kids (from the Todd LP). It was a hard hitting rocker, a wall of sound. The pre-recorded music hit a glitch and squealed and distorted the sounds, something messed up and Rundgren’s vocal was buried in the mix though his live guitar playing was incredible with a rapid fire machine gun blast of notes. He hit the e-string like he was possessed by the spirit of Jimi Hendrix . This wall of sound segues to International Feel Pt 2. Rundgren’s voice is shredded by this point in the show but his guitar playing is electrifying. It ends suddenly. The silence is deafening, the crowd roars its approval. I loved it and I’ve never experienced another rock & roll show that was so humble yet transcendent.
After a brief intermission, Rundgrem introduced Utopia, his new band. I didn’t really listen. By this time I smoked some refer and had a swig or two of liquor. I was almost annoyed by Utopia’s cacophonous songs. I wanted more Something/Anything or the Ballad of Todd Rundgren. But not this! After listening to a few of these new songs, it seemed that the music settled into a comfortable groove. I didn’t understand it but I began to like it. I recall the song Utopia: City in My Head and thinking Rundgren said he was going to do it (change) and he did. Some of the audience appeared enraptured, others seemed confused or angry. The music was complex but not always beautiful. Toward the end of the show, Rundgren performed Black Maria and Everybody’s Going to Heaven/King Kong Reggae bringing it all back around to the pre-Utopia foundations of Rundgren’s most complex music. I’ve been a huge fan ever since.
A special thanks to Roger Linder and Doug Moiles
Peace
Bo White
