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ROY ORBISON'S HOLOGRAM SINGING FOR THE LONELY..

(Let it be known, I am no Music Critic. I’m just a fan.) On a cold wet evening in mid-November, I embarked on an hour’s drive south to see the hologram of Roy Orbison perform in Greenville, SC. Yes, that is correct. Along for the ride was my Ma, and her boyfriend of some years.  It was a special occasion to get to see Roy’s hologram perform, and especially to share it with my Ma. I remember being a kid and one of the only albums I can picture in her possession was that of Roy Orbison’s Hits. She always used to say: “He wasn’t much to look at, but boy could he sing.." (including at least once in the Prius on the drive down, and once post-show): The Peace Center in Greenville is a large auditorium, seats I would say 2,000 butts. (I just search engined it and it appears I was only 112 butts off. As a musician, who plays in rooms, way smaller than this, I just pat myself on the back for being able to gauge that). I crack to my Ma that I must be the youngest person here (I was born in ’83) and I’m not too far off. We bring up the tickets on our smartphone, get scanned in, empty our bladders, walk up the stairs 2 flights to the balcony, get told where our seats are, scoot down the narrow aisle, take off our coats, and pop a squat. It’s about 10 minutes til showtime so we dilly dally for a bit on our smartphones, look around, comment how it’s maybe a little more than half full, talk about how weird this is going to be, until.. the lights go down. Much hushed murmuring, as that cue always cues, and a flesh colored fella comes out, makes some announcements, says there will be 25 minutes of music, followed by a 20 minute intermission, followed by 90 minutes of music, and then he introduces…. !!! … Peter Frampton’s son, Julian. Oh, okay. Frampton Junior walks out and begins to strum his acoustic-electric and launches into a song that he wrote, of which approximately 15 seconds into I can feel hard struck panic begin to swell into every inch of my being as I realize I am stuck there for the next 25 minutes, because I am literally smack dab center of a row that has approximately 18 people to my left, and 23 or so to my right. Any attempt at escape is out of the question.  25 minutes to go.  I decide to try and give it a chance, but alas, I cannot. It is the exact opposite of everything about music that I stand for. I feel like Ethan Hawke sitting on the couch in Reality Bites, after Winona Ryder comes in from making out with that yuppie, and Hawke patronizingly croons: “Ooo baby I love your way.. Everyday..”. (Julian’s pops, nonetheless, in case you didn’t know). Perhaps I am as cynical as Hawke, maybe because the music deserves it, or maybe because I’m an asshole, or maybe just because, like Hawke, I was jealous of something. When 25 minutes is up, I clap for the first time, as it’s Frampton’s last song and I am more than ecstatic. Next up: THE BIG O! After a 20 minute break that is. I begin texting one of my friends. Not because I have nothing better to do, but just because I have to complain to someone about Frampton’s set. Okay okay, I’ll stop the Frampton bashing. I honestly don’t care and that’s not what this essay is about, it’s about Orby! Good ole digitally back from the grave Orby! 20 minutes finally come to pass, and the lights go low again. Much excitement and applause and Woo Hoo's..  And then.. The curtain raises quick as a wink and there’s a huge orchestra must be 25 or 30 pieces and they’re churning out “Pretty Woman” and there’s a screen on the back of the wall and it’s a montage of Roy and “Pretty Woman” actually turns into a sick medley of this and that and the other but keeps coming back to the “Pretty Woman” riff until finally a strong male voice comes on the PA and announces “Ladies and Gentleman! ROY ORBISON!”. And I'll be damned if I didn’t look to the back of the stage thinking he was just going to stroll out from behind the curtain and right down the middle of that orchestra in the flesh.. But that didn’t happen. INSTEAD, ROY comes UP through the GROUND as though on an ELEVATOR straight outta his CASKET, Center Stage, Microphone, Mic Stand, Guitar, Guitar Cable, Grey Suit, Sunglasses, Pompadour, and all! The band has already been “Dum dum dum dumdee doo wah”-ing away, and the moment Roy is fully there, he let’s it come right out: "..Only the lonely.." The crowd is wide-eyed, they’re smiling, they’re laughing, they’re a bit confused, they’re clapping, and so on.  Now, this is probably one of my favorite songs of Orby’s, and I’m into it, but immediately, I can’t help but feel as though.. well feel as though I KNOW.. this just ain’t real. Don’t get me wrong. The orchestra is all outta bubble gum, (i.e. they’re just kicking ass) and Roy’s voice in on point. It’s just that.. it’s just not real.  At least Frampton Jr., bless his heart, was real and in the flesh. He could crack a dumb off the cuff joke or forget to un-mute his tuner pedal. All Roy says is the occasional “Thank you” in between songs. This brings me to what I guess is the posed point of this writing: Shouldn’t live music be: Live? Isn’t that the purpose? I can listen to a Roy record at home or watch a video if I want and have this same visceral experience. In the words of Eddie Vedder, when I see a live show, I wanna see the “distress on a guy’s face as he’s trying to sing and play guitar at the same time.” Ma brought some binoculars, so throughout the show we pass them between us and, looking through, we come to find and agree upon: Roy’s face doesn’t look quite like him. It’s slightly.. off. At least, it’s off from the pictures that have been telling us what he looks like our whole lives (“He wasn’t much to look at…”). Ma also comments “He don’t look like he’s even playing his guitar!” (I assure her, he's actually making chords). I wanna see the distress of a guy’s not-entirely-how-I-remember-hologramed face as he’s singing and (appearing) to play the guitar at the same time.  As the show goes on, I’m able to give into it here and there, and there are some moments of pure magic. Perhaps not a testament to this production, but in the least to Roy as a performer, and the strength of the songs he performed. “A Love So Beautiful” was just downright heavenly with that string section swelling. “I Drove All Night” just about brought me to tears, though perhaps more for the fact it was the song a friend (who recently killed himself) and I learned in order to play at some of our best friends’ wedding a year ago. I overhear the elderly ladies to my right comment a few things every now and then. Sometimes I sneak a look over and they just seem delighted at all of this. I think: what do they think of this show? Is it just a pure magical treat to them? Is their disbelief completely suspended? To see someone who maybe they actually saw live in their time, come back to life while they are here, late in their life, to give them the time of their life, again? I don’t know, I didn’t ask them. Every once in a while, there is a short Photo or Video Montage on that back screen and the Orchestra will accompany it, so, whenever that happens, Roy will literally POOF into thin air, leaving a trail of ghost-like smokiness. Then when he comes back for another song, he will elevator ride up again from the ground/great beyond. When the riff finally comes in again for his biggest hit “Pretty Woman” to close out the show, the crowd is hooting and hollering. And to be honest, I can’t help but tap my foot and bop along, as my Ma does the same, a big smile on her face and a glow in her eyes. And I’m transported back to being a kid, and she’s got this song on, and she’s dancing around to it, and singing along, and I’m watching her, with a glow in my eyes.  I guess that’s just the power a song can behold, everything else be damned.  Maybe this is the future of music, to bring the past back. Or maybe it’s just the future.  But really, it’s here now. It’s present.