About Bob

I went to see a Bob Schneider concert the other night and it was great. I walked in as the opening act was finishing his set. Bob immediately came out with a bunch of stools from backstage, so people could sit down. While I’m generally not star-struck, I think that seeing someone on a CD cover or up there on stage under the lights has the general tendency to make them seem larger than life. (Also, Bob looks like Jesus.) However, seeing Bob set up chairs for his audience really brought him back to earth. Suddenly, he was like a buddy of mine, picking up a guitar in my living room to help pass the time.

The theme of being just a regular old Bob was reinforced when he used the opening act’s guitar to play his set. Perhaps he doesn’t have one. It was a solo acoustic set with only that guitar and one of those $5 fisher-price children’s xylophones. That fact, coupled with some clever stage banter, a few completely ridiculous non-album songs, and more than one dig at Justin Timberlake made for some good laughs. A good time was had by all.

It seems to me that a lot of Bob’s songs are about reflecting back upon your life, realizing that things haven’t worked out the way you had planned, and growing to be at peace with that fact. His second solo album, for instance, was entitled “I’m good now.” Another song goes, “There’s a man I’ve never met before and he looks a lot like me/and there’s a little place called heaven that I’ll probably never see/and there’s a thing called peace of mind that I have never know/I’ve got a long way to get before I get back home.” Another song goes, “I know the time it's time to get up/And get out and get over this/But I don't know how and I don't know why/And the world goes round/And the world goes around/
And the world goes round & round.” There’s also this sentiment that is expressed in several songs that people often try to be better than they actually are. It’s a losing proposition. But there are glimmers of hope, if you look close enough, like in this ballad about Chuck Norris’ love child, “Oh, you never know what the world is gonna do/it may break you right in two/it might make all your dreams come true.”

I had been feeling a little down the last few days, so such songs rolled into town at the right time. About half way through, he entertained requests. I asked for “2002,” which he obliged and rendered a super-sad, slow version. It’s a song he wrote in 1998 after a girl broke his heart. He envisioned that it would take him a couple of years and numerous unfortunate events before he could get over her. Only, he can’t forget her. While it’s actually a fictional account of what his life might look like, it really feels authentically autobiographical.

I also appreciated the fact that they taped the show and made the CD’s available for purchase immediately after the concert. All musicians should present this option. Oh, and he ended with a song about pirates.

On Tuesday, I’m going to see Everclear. I’m stoked.