12/05/01
Chuck Yarborough
Plain Dealer Reporter
Landmines are not designed to kill. Their aim is to maim, and they're darn good at it. The U.S. State Department estimates that as many as 75 million landmines remain unexploded throughout the world. Every 22 minutes, say the experts, someone is hurt by a landmine.
Those truly horrible statistics were enough to bring six of the most talented songwriting voices in America to Playhouse Square's Allen Theatre stage last night for a Cleveland version of the Concert for a Landmine Free World. The sparse crowd was as interesting as the artists - country's silver siren Emmylou Harris, Steve Earle, the cerebral Mary Chapin Carpenter, Nanci Griffith, Patty Griffin and Bruce Cockburn. It was almost a cliche to see some of the veteran social activists with what remained of their hair pulled back in desperate ponytails, or to look into passionate eyes framed through gold-rimmed glasses that disappeared into graying temples.
But cliches are born of reality, and the reality is that the idealism that fed the 1960s continues with the 2000s, and the generations that populate this era. Commitment runs deep in these circles, as it does with the artists who donated their time and talent and the sponsors of this unusual night, the Vietnam Veterans of America Foundation.
The six singers, accompanied by Carpenter's longtime collaborator, John Jennings, and Griffith's keyboard player, James Hooker, sat in a semicircle facing the audience, like wonderfully lyrical preachers awaiting their turn in the pulpit.
Harris, a vision in red, began the evening by dedicating it to the late George Harrison. Her first tune, "Abraham, Martin and John," rekindled some of that zeal of the civil rights and anti-war days. Her lilting soprano caressed each note like a gentle breeze moving puffy clouds against an azure sky.
Griffin, whose fiery red hair contrasted beautifully with her jade outfit, continued the activist bent with a tuned called "Chief," one she said she was inspired to write about an American Indian in her hometown forever scarred by his tour of duty in Vietnam. Griffin later added some of the sweetest harmony this side of the Rubicon to Harris' "My Baby," off her Grammy-winning "Red Dirt Girl" album, then to Cockburn's "It's My Beat," about riding a bicycle around Montreal. Her own "Top of the World" rang sweet and true.
Earle, the jokester in the bunch, kept things lively with stories of his youth in Schertz, Texas, and the bullies who made his childhood so memorable. His rollicking take of "Hometown Blues" in particular was greeted by equal parts laughter and applause - all deserved. He traded off lead vocals with Harris and offered some memorable harp on his wrenching "I Can't Remember If We Said Goodbye."
Carpenter, her husky voice rising and falling like the bosom of some romance novel heroine, offered "Stones in the Road" and a wonderfully poignant rendition of "Someone Else's Prayer."
But this acoustic event was Harris' show, and she handled it with aplomb. Her breathy "Michelangelo" carved teardrops in the hearts of those fortunate enough to be present for this extraordinary night.
What a pity the cause is what it is. But what a joy these six came together again to help combat it.
Contact Chuck Yarborough at:
cyarborough@plaind.com, 216-999-4534
© 2001 The Plain Dealer. Used with permission.