Chicks Rock!

I had never been to a concert at the Schottenstein Center before. Hell, I had never been to a ballgame there either, delinquent alumnus that I am. And I'm not a fan of the Dixie Chicks, so I didn't know what to expect from their concert in the big arena.

It was, like the Grand Canyon is rumored to be, quite large.

Here's the back-story: Gven Golly's longtime student Tom showed up in class Sunday morning bearing gifts - two tickets to the concert he couldn't go to. Gven and her sisters (not to mention her friends, her sisters' friends, and her friends' sisters, etc.) have been fans of the Chicks since long before the notorious Bush statement, so she gladly accepted the tickets. I figured what the heck, so we had a date.

We walked the length of the big parking lot, past other big athletic-complex buildings, to the big arena and got a good look at the big, girly crowd. We found our seats (on the Huntington Level, whatever that means, never mind, I know what it means, it's a corporate university) and settled in with a salty pretzel and a Coke.

The crowd was raucous - in a middle-class, midwestern, girly way - but what do I know (I'll tell you) not much. The acoustics were bad, and the video was worse. Note to engineer: when the fiddle player has a solo, don't project an image of the banjo player watching her; when the banjo player has a solo, don't show the singer complaining to the sound man. That said...

They rocked the place. Tell you what, that Natalie Maines can sing. Leather dress and all, the girl looks tough, commands the stage, and uses her big voice to full effect without over-playing her hand. The banjo player, Emily Robison, with the long dark hair and the long legs, played well and contributed harmony vocals and a smiling, chiseled face to complement Maines' impish scowl. The fiddler, Marty McGuire, holds up her end too, with fine instrumentals and a pretty smiling face on her end of the stage. They make a fine bluegrass trio and thankfully have not devolved into "Natalie Maines and the Dixie Chicks." At least not yet. With the 8-piece band, driven by a little too much drums and bass, they hold their own as a country-rock act. But what do I know (I'll tell you) not much.

Yet it was the crowd that really rocked. Bad sound, unintelligible lyrics, random visuals, and all, those people loved what they heard, and they showed it. It must have been cool for the musicians to hear 10,000 women singing "Wide Open Spaces" back at them.