For many young State Fair-goers, Friday night's concert by Alicia Keys will become an indelible memory, mixed with the sweet-and-sour smells of the fair and memorialized by a souvenir T-shirt of pop's Grammy-winning rookie of the year.
The grandstand show is the single most important factor that brings people to the fair on a particular day, officials say. Big names mean boffo business at the outside gate.
Keys, best known for the pop/soul smash "Fallin'," is a big draw tonight, as are next week's double bills of Bonnie Raitt/Lyle Lovett and REO Speedwagon/Styx.
Grandstand concerts started in 1962, on a stage placed on the grandstand's racetrack. During the '60s, each act played there for several nights. In 1975, the fair implemented a policy of a different performer per night. Since that year -- when I was hired at this newspaper -- I have attended more than 175 grandstand shows.
Here are my most memorable fair concerts:
Roger Miller, 1965. My first concert ever! Back then, the fair offered Kids Day matinees at the grandstand. I knew "King of the Road," "Dang Me" and "Chug-a-Lug" from the radio, but I had no idea what "grape wine in a Mason jar/ Homemade and brought to school" meant. Even though we were sitting a couple rows from the top of the grandstand, I thought this experience of going to a big-name concert was groovy.
Johnny Cash Show, 1976. Alabama and Willie Nelson are the country stars who have dominated the grandstand, with 13 and 11 shows each. But, for my money, Cash is the King of the Grandstand. He set the all-time attendance record of 21,332 (there aren't that many seats anymore) at the first of his six appearances in 1969. On this night, he showed that country need not be rhinestone slick but that it works best when it's honest and heartfelt. His presence was as powerful as that deep "Hello, I'm Johnny Cash" voice. And he made the show a family affair with his brother Tommy; wife, June; son John Carter, 7, and daughter Rosey Nix -- better known later as Rosanne Cash.
Beach Boys, 1982. The Beach Boys were regular visitors in the '80s and early '90s, but this was the only show to feature both drummer Dennis Wilson (who drowned in 1983) and troubled leader Brian Wilson, who sat at a piano, smoking cigarettes and singing little. Still, there were plenty of good vibrations, prompting fans in wheelchairs to joyously dance in the moat in front of the stage.
Air Supply, 1982. It wasn't the music that was memorable; it was singer Russell Hitchcock's fall from the stage. While performing "One Step Closer," Hitchcock (the dark-haired one) walked to a ledge to wave to fans, and while returning to the main stage, he fell 10 feet onto a concrete slab. The concert was halted, and he was rushed to a hospital. He broke his left arm and bruised his ribs and left leg. It's the only concert at which I went to the hospital before filing my report.
Sammy Davis Jr., 1983. It was Senior Citizens Day, and Sammy slayed 'em. He sang saloon songs, Broadway, pop, blues, opera. He danced (tap and soft-shoe). He told jokes ("They said I wouldn't draw flies," he quipped as insects descended upon him) and showed off his jewelry (six huge diamond rings, for starters). My mom loved it. This was pure show biz performed by one of the all-time greats.
Rod Stewart, 1984. This one almost caused a riot with 20,800 fans in the stands. The rocker wanted the revelers to come and dance in front of the stage; security personnel did not. During intermission, Stewart's reps negotiated with fair officials, and the moat was rocking for the second half -- and so was Rod. Fans were vaulting on to the stage and, at one point, State Fair police came onstage, but the band waved them off. It was good ol' rock 'n' roll fun. Said Rod at show's end: "Well, it was a very funny night."
Garrison Keillor, 1986. One Minnesota institution brought his radio show to another state institution. Keillor reworked his "A Prairie Home Companion" theme song, "Hello Love," to mention Pronto Pups and Machinery Hill, recited all 87 Minnesota counties in a record 28 seconds and staged a fiddle contest between Johnny Gimble and Peter Ostroushko. The commercials for fictional fair booths had 11,000 folks in stitches. Keillor's homespun show fit the fair like a footlong hot dog fits an extra-long bun.
New Kids on the Block and Tiffany, 1989. Teen pop ruled at the fair. This one sold out in record time. Even if the New Kids were hopelessly derivative of the Jackson 5 and other R&B; acts, there was something special about watching 20,944 screaming preteen girls at their first concert. It was sort of like Beatlemania all over again. Too bad the New Kids gave four more local concerts in the next 14 months, making their motivation clear.
Bonnie Raitt/Charles Brown/ Jeff Healey Band, 1990. It was the night after Stevie Ray Vaughan died in a helicopter crash, and Raitt was highly emotional, with abundant sass, passionate singing and smokin' slide guitar. The poignant "Louise," about a prostitute "who died that afternoon," made Raitt misty-eyed, and she dedicated "Nick of Time" to her friend Vaughan, whom she said inspired her to play the blues without the "torture" of booze and drugs.
Garth Brooks, 1991 and 1992. The first time you see him, he wows ya. He's an irresistible charmer and a terrific showman who performs insightful songs about the real world with rollicking enthusiasm. The second time around wasn't quite as exciting, but it was memorable because there were a record 160,000 ticket requests -- enough to fill the grandstand for eight shows. Before Garth took the stage, I gave an extra ticket to a teenager who was pressed against the outside gate. That made her day -- and mine.
Bob Dylan and Santana, 1993. "Stick around for the homeboy -- Bob," Carlos Santana said at the end of his opening set. The homeboy was shy guy. He was standing about halfway back on the stage, and the lighting was dim, with shadows covering his face. Still, the performance was more rewarding than his unsatisfying fair debut in '90. "Tangled Up in Blue" was a country-funk triumph, "Maggie's Farm" was a snarly rocker, and "Don't Think Twice, It's All Right" sounded like vintage Dylan for a rare moment.
Blues Festival '94 with B.B. King, Little Feat, Dr. John and Tribute to Muddy Waters, 1994. Rain didn't muddy the blues. In fact, people in ponchos partied to Feat's funk-rock, and King helped all 7,330 hearty souls drown their sorrows with his robust voice and the expressive sounds of Lucille, his guitar.
Mary Chapin Carpenter, Kathy Mattea and Suzy Bogguss, 1995. An inspired pre-Lilith Fair package put together by the State Fair, these three country princesses teamed for a remarkable marathon of warm, generous and very human performances. The evening ran so long that the three trio songs at the end lasted until midnight, closing time at the fairgrounds.
Steve Lawrence and Eydie Gorme, 1999. In the sweltering afternoon sun, the long-reigning king and queen of lounge music showed what a grand old nightclub act offers: a fine orchestra with terrific arrangements, a fabulous gown and a smart tuxedo, snappy repartee, right-on jokes (both fresh and stock), pretty good vocals and an endless supply of great standards. My mom and dad -- and their son -- loved it.
Ringo Starr & His All-Starr Band, 2001. Even 31 years after the Fab Four broke up, having any Beatle at the State Fair was eventful. This was more classic-rock entertainment than Beatlemania revisited, however. Sheila E sparked both the show and Starr, and Roger Hodgson sparkled on Supertramp's old hits. Starr was clearly getting high making music with his friends.
Aaron Carter, 2001. Although his lightweight music is already yesterday's news, this 13-year-old heartthrob put on the wildest, silliest and most spontaneous performance in memory at the fair. It was the last night of his tightly choreographed teen-pop tour, and the bratty little brother of a Backstreet Boy cut loose, spraying his drummer with Silly String, waging a food fight with his stage crew, etc. Amid all the indulgent nuttiness, Carter kept his cool, dancing with verve and attitude, throwing in limber, athletic and graceful moves -- including one-handed cartwheels and break-dancing.
-- Jon Bream is at popmusic@startribune.com or 612-673-1719.
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