"Live From Here" From Atlanta

For Christmas, my friend Suzanne got us tickets at Atlanta's Fox Theatre to see a show then called "Prairie Home Companion," now re-Christened "Live From Here."  We'd seen PHC in the same venue just a couple years ago, when He Who Must Not Be Named dominated the proceedings.  Back then, I wondered about the future of this folksy variety show, seeing mostly grey-hairs.

This time, the crowd was a lot younger, and they picked up on Outkast references that I missed.  (I hear that Outkast is classic.  Now, is Outkast a rap artist, or is it hip - hop?)The place was packed, and we roared approval when Chris stepped out a quarter to six to warm us up.  He mentioned all the other times he's been to Atlanta, and, not bragging, but, I was there for every one. He was maybe 19 when I first saw him here; he must be close to 40 now.  He's just as exuberant as ever, and goofy but endearing in his head-banging and jumping around with that tiny mandolin strapped around his neck, and his giggling.
What strikes me now, as always, is that this guy is learning even as we watch.  He looked genuinely surprised by interactions with his guests Neko Case, Father John Misty, comedian Rory Albanese.  He led an improvised performance of Grieg's "Hall of the Mountain King" that cycled through subtle iterations of the familiar theme, and ones that rocked.

His guests, unfamiliar to me, had a vocal following in the hall.  To me, the musical guests seemed a bit pretentious, a bit middle school, a bit "Hipster" in a silly way: beards, introverted behavior on stage, black yoga pants and tank top, or baby doll dress -- ugh.  But the headliners had strong voices, layered accompaniments, and lyrics that were at least suggestive of mood, even if they didn't add up to any conclusion.

The comedian's intro to us was a sketch about Chris's future self coming from the future to warn him, "Don't buy that orange shirt!"  He kept us laughing with a gentle domestic tale about being an uncle, meaning that he could help his brother find the niblings' pet gerbil, but, if it didn't work out, well, he's not the one who has to be there when the kids wake up -- been there, done that!   Tom Papa's weekly installment "Out in America" dwelt on Greeks in Detroit, and was sweet.

While the genres of music are wildly divergent, Thile's mandolin always sounds hopeful, energetic, and humane -- even when the context is pensive or downright dark.

Chris ended the evening with his guitarist in duet, paying tribute to a bluegrass legend from Georgia that I've never heard of, Norman Blake. Very sweet, very exciting.

Chris had paid a lot of attention to his location in the show. His "Delta Blues" merged musical allusions to Robert Johnson with jokes about the town's largest employer.  References to Outkast and John Meyer and other Atlanta musicians went mostly over my head, but Suzanne got them.  We had arrived at the Fox via the MARTA transit system, and we enjoyed a ride back to Lenox Square, a place I've known since I was ten years old, running to F.A.O Shwartz to buy puppets.  Now, somewhere near the spot where my 16-year-old self first paid for my own meal at a sit-down restaurant (an early incarnation of Houston's, I recall), she and I enjoyed "True Food." I felt great.

I feel gratitude to Chris, his writing staff, and the stalwart Tim Russell and Rich Dworsky, holdovers from the years with G. K., and the newbies:  It's all one, all kind, all kinds, and very American.

Read earlier posts about the show, from 2016, "Garrison Keillor's Farewell Tour" (06/2016); and "A Daring Home Companion" (04/2017) focused on Chris Thile's debut as host of the show.  When Minnesota Public Radio abruptly pulled Keillor's name and all remnants of his "brand" from their programming, Thile began that week's show with an elegant expression of gratitude to Garrison Keillor for years of enjoyment and for bringing Thile and his friends of Nickel Creek to national attention.