Sing Me a Song, Piano Man

It was nine o'clock on a Monday, and the Piano Man wasn't singing. Twelve hundred people gathered in Sanders Theatre Monday night to see Billy Joel--the man who married supermodel Christie Brinkley, the man who put Long Island on the map, the man who has put us in a New York State of Mind for 20 years--and he sang just five measly songs.

Oh, sure, when he sang, he sounded good, even though he complained of allergies. I sat transfixed along with everyone else while he crooned "And So It Goes" and "Downeaster Alexa." When the first notes of "Honesty" floated to the Sanders chandelier, I relaxed, closed my eyes and dreamed.

I wasn't out to look for flaws in Billy Joel; quite the opposite. I own at least seven of his albums and have been known to put "Piano Man" on continuous play for a half-hour at a time.

And I realize that we got exactly what we were promised: "An Evening of Questions and Answers...and Perhaps a Few Songs." But for my $27.50, I was expecting a little more.

Maybe I was naive, or foolishly hopeful. I guess I just didn't want to believe that Billy, our Billy, would sit in front of us for the better part of an evening...and not sing.

This is a man, after all, who makes his living through songs. He's no philosopher. He's no sage. And even though he somehow managed to wed Christie Brinkley for a brief, shining moment, he's no expert on women.

Yet he sat there for more than two and a half hours and philosophized about the music business, his songs and his life.

It was like sitting in front of a hotfudge sundae for two and a half hours and watching it melt, but only being able to eat the cherry.

It was pure torture.

Every time he approached the piano, the audience cheered. But even when he sat down at the bench and played, he didn't always sing. When he explained the lyrics to "Billy the Kid," he played the tune and spoke the lyrics. I'm sorry, but there's just no excuse for that.

And even when he played and sang, he didn't always sing his own songs. He did do a fine rendition of Bob Dylan's "The Times They Are A-Changin'," though.

I'll admit I don't mind listening to Billy Joel talk. In fact, when "River of Dreams" came out, I stayed up late to watch him schmooze with Letterman and Leno.

Ten minutes listening to him talk about cover art and his daughter Alexa's childhood was interesting--even charming.

Two and a half hours of his discourse, on the other hand, quickly became uninteresting cloying and even a bit self-indulgent. Of course, there were occasional bright moments laced with wit and humor.

When one audience member asked what kept him "psyched" for the endless touring, Joel replied, "You walk on stage and they [the audience] make a huge noise...as a guy, the more noise somebody makes, the better you tend to perform."

Chalk one up for the man recently dumped by a supermodel.

And he did give advice to those contemplating a career in music.

"I think there are some people who are artists and know they are, and that's what pulls you through," Joel said. "If it worries you too much, maybe you shouldn't pursue it." Those are sound, if cliched words.

But all too much of the night seemed to be Billy Joel on how cool Billy Joel is. He reveled in how incredible it is to know that 20,000 people will show up at a concert just to see him. Emitting a Frankenstein-esque laugh, he mentioned that when he plays the piano at home, he enjoys pondering the fact that people pay him good money for something he'd do for free.

Rock stars are allowed such indulgences, I suppose. After all, he does pull in huge crowds, and for good reason. But above all, those crowds come for the music. I don't think he'd draw 20,000 for a poetry reading or a debate on post-modern existentialism.

He seems to think he's getting too old for the mega-tours. "I'm 45. I'm taking myself out of the game," he said. "There is a time to leave the game, to grow, to do something else."

Maybe it's a mid-life crisis. After all, he doesn't have Christie anymore. And he made a few wry comments Monday about his two ex-wives.

Perhaps he wants to be more than a singer, more than someone who sits in a bar and plays while people ask, "Man, what are you doing here?"

And maybe he's right to stop touring so much. After all, if Frank Sinatra had stopped giving concerts when he started getting old and his voice went, we'd all have been grateful.

But Billy's voice hasn't gone. From the little I heard, it was as pure as ever. So all I can say is, Billy, why didn't you sing us more than a few songs and just forget the talking? We'd have loved and respected you just as much--and probably more.

Sarah J. Schaffer '97 is an uptown girl.

Two and a half hours of his discourse, on the other hand, quickly became uninteresting cloying and even a bit self-indulgent. Of course, there were occasional bright moments laced with wit and humor.

When one audience member asked what kept him "psyched" for the endless touring, Joel replied, "You walk on stage and they [the audience] make a huge noise...as a guy, the more noise somebody makes, the better you tend to perform."

Chalk one up for the man recently dumped by a supermodel.

And he did give advice to those contemplating a career in music.

"I think there are some people who are artists and know they are, and that's what pulls you through," Joel said. "If it worries you too much, maybe you shouldn't pursue it." Those are sound, if cliched words.

But all too much of the night seemed to be Billy Joel on how cool Billy Joel is. He reveled in how incredible it is to know that 20,000 people will show up at a concert just to see him. Emitting a Frankenstein-esque laugh, he mentioned that when he plays the piano at home, he enjoys pondering the fact that people pay him good money for something he'd do for free.

Rock stars are allowed such indulgences, I suppose. After all, he does pull in huge crowds, and for good reason. But above all, those crowds come for the music. I don't think he'd draw 20,000 for a poetry reading or a debate on post-modern existentialism.

He seems to think he's getting too old for the mega-tours. "I'm 45. I'm taking myself out of the game," he said. "There is a time to leave the game, to grow, to do something else."

Maybe it's a mid-life crisis. After all, he doesn't have Christie anymore. And he made a few wry comments Monday about his two ex-wives.

Perhaps he wants to be more than a singer, more than someone who sits in a bar and plays while people ask, "Man, what are you doing here?"

And maybe he's right to stop touring so much. After all, if Frank Sinatra had stopped giving concerts when he started getting old and his voice went, we'd all have been grateful.

But Billy's voice hasn't gone. From the little I heard, it was as pure as ever. So all I can say is, Billy, why didn't you sing us more than a few songs and just forget the talking? We'd have loved and respected you just as much--and probably more.

Sarah J. Schaffer '97 is an uptown girl.