The Diatribe * net

Last week the Future Mrs. Larby and I went to see Neil Diamond live and in concert at Madison Square Garden. It was a sight to behold. When he rose out of the stage — oh yes, he ascended out of the floor like a Phoenix rising from the ashes—you would have thought it was the early ‘90s and Patrick Ewing, Charles Oakley and John Starks were running up and down the basketball court. The Garden came alive. I mean, it thundered to the sound of Crunchy Granola Suite. It was out of this world. He looked good. He sounded good. The ladies in the audience were out of their skulls, hanging on every word and shivering with every sway of his hips. For one rockin’ song, I thought this was going to be a magical show. But for me, the thrill ended with the last note of the first tune.

Love on the Rocks, Coming to America, Sweet Caroline, Forever in Blue Jeans, Red Red Wine, Believer…he performed most of the hits. Unfortunately (okay, fortunately) E.T. didn’t make an appearance because there was no Turn on your Heart Light. And, much to my dismay (seriously) he didn’t sing Solitary Man or Girl, You’ll be a Woman Soon. In fact, let’s clarify things and say that the band played and Neil, well, he spoke, quasi-crooned, belted and yes, occasionally, sang his way through his catalog. At times he was a bad parody of himself. And at other times, I could see the twenty-something talent playing the coffee houses in Greenwich Village, before the sparkles and really bad hair took over. He spoke of his movie career and yet failed to mention Saving Silverman. Now come on! ANY time you share a screen with R. Lee Ermy should be the highlight of your career. Don’t shy away, Neil, you were brilliant!

But I have to hand it to him. This guy had every woman in the audience quivering. He even made out with an audience member. I kid you not. Neil was sprawled out on the floor at the edge of the stage and invited her over for a little longfellow serenade (another gem that he didn’t play). 30 seconds later they were still going at it! Crazy. I don’t know if she was planted or what, but he came off looking like the man. And who knows, maybe Neil Diamond is the Man and I just need to take him for what he is. But I was disappointed. It’s 2005, and at age 64 he’s doing all right for himself. But I prefer the 31 year old, on a Hot August Night, and that’s the way I’ll remember Neil…Forever in Blue Jeans, not as the Jazz Singer.