Concert Highlights–Cindy Lee Berryhill and Al Stewart at City Winery, 6/14/2016

Cindy Lee Berryhill alluded to her difficult recent past at the beginning of her opening set Tuesday night at City Winery when, leading into her forthcoming album The Adventurist’s track “Somebody’s Angel,” she invoked “Ruby, Don’t Take Your Love to Town,” the 1969 hit by Kenny Rogers and The First Edition that was written by Mel Tillis and is about a paralyzed veteran of “that crazy Asian war” who begs his wife not to go out on the town.

“I didn’t understand it when I was a kid,” Berryhill said, quoting the lyric “And if I could move I’d get my gun and put her in the ground/Oh, Ruby, don’t take your love to town.”

“Where was she going? The bowling alley? An Al-Anon group? There are any number of things she could have been doing besides having an affair!”

Berryhill has said that The Adventurist “bookends” with her 1994 album Garage Orchestra in that the first album documented the beginning of her relationship with her late husband Paul Williams and the new one its end: Williams, a prominent rock journalist who was a founder of the seminal rock magazine Crawdaddy!, died last year after many years of debilitation from a severe brain injury following a bicycle accident.

Ruby, Berryhill came to realize, was, much like herself, “a caretaker.”

“That’s not an easy way to go,” she said, adding, of caretakers, “It’s not an easy life—they deserve a song.”

Hence, “Somebody’s Angel.” But she noted after that she had “no regrets,” and had started the show with “a downer song” in order to progress to the more hopeful fare included on The Adventurist.

“You have to eat the healthy stuff first,” she explained, “then the Coca-Cola with ice cream.”

She later brought up her longtime friend Lenny Kaye, who produced her 1989 album Naked Movie Star. Kaye played acoustic guitar on The Adventurist’s “American Cinematography” and the Velvet Underground classic “Femme Fatale,” which was written by Lou Reed—Reed being part of Berryhill’s acknowledged “triumvirate” of key influences, the others being Patti Smith (Kaye has forever been Smith’s guitarist/collaborator) and Brian Wilson.

Berryhill was opening for another influence, Al Stewart, who sang his hit “Time Passages” at Kaye’s request. For his part, by the way, Stewart was quite engaging, particularly in stories like the one about playing places like Tokyo and Rome and hearing wives complain to their husbands that they thought they were going to see Rod, not Al Stewart.

Stewart also brought a nifty merchandise item: a poster pattered after the Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band cover and featuring some 200 people and things associated with the lyrics to his songs–historical, if I heard correctly, and being hard of hearing and sitting in the back and Stewart not having a loud voice, I’m not 100 percent sure. He definitely said that only one person had been able to identify all but one of the figures, and he might have said that he himself couldn’t identify at least 30.

The Carly Simon fallacy

Every few years, it seems, there’s a resurgence of interest in Carly Simon via her 1972 hit “You’re So Vain,” i.e., Who is it about?, and her coy handling of the so-called “mystery.”

This time it’s because she has a memoir coming out, titled after her 1978 album Boys in the Trees. In a recent interview with People she apparently confirmed that the second verse is about Warren Beatty. I say apparently because I ddin’t read the interview, just an account of it in HuffPost leading with how for years, “music and pop culture fans alike have tried to figure out who Carly Simon’s song ‘You’re So Vain’ is really about (Mick Jagger? James Taylor?). We’ve been met with cryptic clues, but we could never say with certainty who that elusive ‘you’ really is.”

It doesn’t say who “we” is, but I most certainly have never tried to figure it out, nor has anyone I know. Simon’s sex life just isn’t that interesting to me, and besides, it remains one of the dumbest songs I’ve ever heard—and that’s just the lyrics. The tune itself isn’t much and the fact that the record became so successful, I’m convinced, is because of Jagger’s uncredited backup vocal on the chorus, Jagger himself being one of the celeb names bandied about over the years as the song’s subject.

The only true mystery of the song is how people continue getting so worked up over a guy who really isn’t so vain after all. I mean, if he probably thinks the song is about him, he’s right!—hence, no vanity. The entire song is based on fallacy!

But look closer. Force yourself. Yes, the guy’s a self-absorbed dandy (“Your hat strategically dipped below one eye/Your scarf it was apricot”), but if he has “one eye in the mirror” as he watches himself gavotte, well, as Simon herself admits, “all the girls dreamed that they’d be your partner.” Conceited he may be, but no other female is put off by it in the slightest—nor was Simon, at least at one time.

Really, “You’re So Vain” is nothing more than a high-class rejection song with one memorable line (“I had some dreams they were clouds in my coffee”) that is so conceptually wrong there’s probably an arcane philosophical term to describe it.

Coincidentally comes word that another ridiculous yet immensely popular song, Lee Ann Womack’s 2001 crossover country hit “I Hope You Dance,” has been made into an inspirational documentary (I Hope You Dance: The Power and Spirit of Song featuring the likes of Womack, Graham Nash, Brian Wilson and Vince Gill) to debut on Thanksgiving on the Hallmark Movies & Mysteries channel, with DVD and related book out on Dec. 1.

Why people were moved by this song I’ll never know. Yes the chorus line has a mother expressing her wish for her children: “And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance/I hope you dance.” But come on! Is it imaginable that anyone else–mother, father, sibling, friend, alien from outer space–would soulfully sing, “I hope you sit it out”? Not on this planet.