I have seen less predictable outcomes on “The Love Boat.”

In the Mohegan Sun show Friday, he stuck out like a sore thumb – he was the one reason you wanted to see them, and the one reason that, having done so, you didn’t want to hear them.

Utterly free of nuance, with an off-putting manner that, even in his delightfully casual Nike warmup pants and sneakers, came across as robotic and detached. On a stage where everyone else goes out of his way to be enthusiastic and demonstrative, his zoned-out presence is like a weight on the performance.

I would guess the reason the current tour is not getting buzz as a major event is that the Beach Boys never did themselves the favor of going away. This is a band that made some of the most remarkable American pop ever created, but then decided to stick around with whichever parts seemed to be working (Mike Love and Bruce Johnston as the sole carriers of the torch is not a comforting thought), and applied its name to material that ranged from routine to abominable. There are an awful lot of pedestrian years to overcome in being reminded of their long-ago specialness.

It’s right there in the encore – “Kokomo” back to back with “Good Vibrations.” When the encore began with “Kokomo”‘s rhythmic patter, I zeroed in immediately on the grand piano to see if Wilson had stayed off stage to best hold his nose out of view of the audience, but nope, there he was, part of its awfulness. You can’t blame him – he seems malleable enough to do pretty much anything he’s asked at this point.

The group still produces remarkable harmonies, its 12-piece band props up the whole affair, and Mike Love yet sounds about right, but there is a very real Frankenband quality to the five principals (who have never until this year comprised a Beach Boys lineup together), with the most powerful draw also its absolutely weak link.

The Mohegan Sun audience cheered like crazy for Wilson (particularly after he kicked in with some vocals following a few initial songs of barely-there piano contributions), but I would hazard that said appreciation was a far greater mix of nostalgia and some sort of peculiar relief that he can still function than it was a reaction to any sort of virtuosity, because there was nothing remarkable in his performance except that it was emitted from what’s left of Brian Wilson.

Ultimately, the show was fine, but I wouldn’t consider it worth the lost night to see it again.

http://bostonglobe.com/opinion/editorials/2012/02/14/music-industry-family-then-artists-need-better-care/dFgp3voHHT3KGNrHviD9KK/story.html

Actions speak louder than words.

With the Big Man having E Street shuffled loose this mortal coil, the Boss should go racing in the streets of sensitivity, never again to reference the breathing status of anyone, let alone potentially invoke sideways memories of unblemished pop goddess Whitney Houston, who deserves nothing so much as to have angel wings painted upon her every photo as a reminder of how purely she was revered throughout her life.

As recently as three days ago, America – no, the world – fawned constantly upon Whitney for her sweetness and perfection, and the idea that a man so terrible as Springsteen might despoil her in the wake of these uninterrupted decades of reverence by her adoring public warrants – nay, DEMANDS – that he be chastised with critical sories from wire services and websites for his folly.

Crack is wack.

You know I have never done any of those things. No blog, no tweeting, facebook-phobia, etc. I guess as these different outlets become sell outs for big business it has affected me very little, but I am sympathetic of how it has affected you a lot.

Sadly, it has proved wrong to think these online institutions work for the greater good.