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Beck
Universal Amphitheatre
Filter Grade: 92%
by Bryan Chenault | 01.01.2007

When Beck rambled onto the music (video) scene with marble-mouth raps and a simple fret slide, who would’ve thought that he would return to his hometown some 10 years later as the undisputed King of LA? (Sorry, Moz, you don’t do funk, rap, or country; sorry, Axl, you don’t do albums; sorry, Tommy Lee, you do reunion tours). And who would’ve thought that when he did make that return it would be at the families-R-us Universal (Studios) Amphitheatre, with the venue entrance falling between the vacant Waterworld ride and the haunting faux castle façade of Van Helsing!

It seems that after playing in every little hole in Hollywood and Silver Lake to warm up for this most recent tour, this two-night stop in the Valley (and final stop on the Guero tour) was intended for the friends and family (both extended and his own)--a proper venue for a proper concert. Sure enough, the crowd inside couldn’t have been more well-dressed, and the theatre couldn’t have been more sterile. The collared JCrew shirt to ironic Urban Outfitters t-shirt ratio was teetering somewhere near 60-40, while the theater brimmed with the kind of palpable buzz that can only be found at a Christian rock concert (Jars of Clay, anyone?). Scanning the well-behaved, hand-holding couples around me after an usher had led me to my seat, I couldn’t help but brace for a brutally boring show atmosphere.

And after seeing Beck and his gang run through the new material rather sloppily at his first “real” show previewing the new album back in March at the Henry Fonda, the Debbie Downer in me wasn’t expecting to be blown away or anything.

But I was.

Sure, it coulda been the amphitheatre’s amazing acoustics, or perhaps the cold Coors Light 28 oz. draft bucket i held chipmunklike with both hands, but really it was just about a musician at the peak of his craft. For all his goofball or slacker labeling, Beck has proven across six proper albums in 11 years that he’s a master of just about every genre that has caught his fancy. How many musicians can pull off a white funk disco record, and follow it up with a classic folk breakup album, and do both well. Maybe a better question: how many musicians even have the guts or confidence to try?

With Guero being his “return to old” album, it was fitting then that he and his band opened with the driving funk bass line of the album’s first single “Black Tambourine.” For the previously uninitiated, it marked the introduction to stage jester / spaz dancer / Beck’s right-hand man Ryan, who ditched his usual green flightsuit and Aviator shade-wearing Tom Cruise personae for a new look that brought to mind Rushmore’s Max Fischer wearing Richie Tenenbaum’s tennis outfit. Personally, I was a little disappointed when after the first song he put the tambourine down and retreated back to a second drum kit, having been entertained for the entire set at the show earlier this year.

Beck and band tore through sharp renditions of “Devil’s Haircut” and the new summer singalong “Girl” before impressing with a bluesy then P-Funked “Hollywood Freaks” that segued into the sampler platter “Hell Yes.”

Having played some hits, Beck then showed why it’s a bit baffling how underrated and underrespected (I know, not a word) that he remains (as compared to, say, a Jack White). He slowed it down and brought chills to more than a few people with the acoustic “Lazy Bones,” followed by an intense solo performance of the heartbreaking “Lonesome Tears” in which he manned the squeezebox while his band sat Indian-style on the floor behind him.

From there he and the band continued the balancing act between serious singer-songwriter Beck and fun dancing / rapping Beck, with the crowd appreciating the extremes of an acoustic “Everybody’s Gotta Learn Sometimes” as much as a faux banjo duel between Beck and Ryan on Midnight Vultures trumpet send-up “Sexx Laws.”

The real highlight of the show, though, was a six-song segment toward the end of the show in which Beck performed selections from Sea Change in stunning silence, with the only sounds being that of his four bandmates sitting behind him at a dinner table set for four, as Ryan served them between songs. “Lost Cause” and “Golden Age” (with the band playing quiet percussion in unison using silverware and plates) were stunners, as was an acoustic reworking of Vultures favorite “Debra” in which he inserted the line “Me and R Kelly in the closet” as well as shoutouts to the Cerritos Auto Square and other smaller LA area barrios.

Beck closed the show fully electric, lowering an enormous ghettoblaster and inviting people on stage (including Beck’s baby and babymama) for “Where It’s At,” a Faint-like rendition of “Mixed Bizness” and lone encore “E-Pro.”

Walking out into the amusement park, you could tell that for all us true Beck fans (aka people who own One Foot in the Grave) that made the trek out to catch this hometown boy made good, it was worth the standstill Hwy 101 off ramps, the teen crowd corralled at the Saddle Ranch and the overcrowded Frankenstein Parking Garage.