We live in an age of tribute bands–with the emphasis on age–and Morristown has seen some fine tributes to the most covered band of them all, the Beatles.
Jimmy Irizarry, Paul Curatolo, Jimmy Pou, Ralph Castelli and Chris Smallwood (standing in for the late Billy Preston) had the giant crowd–sellout No. 75 of the MPAC season–dancing in the aisles one night after the Real McCoy, er, McCartney, turned 72.
The vintage ’60s commercials were a hoot, too. Seeing Fred Flintstone and Barney Rubble puffing Winstons was priceless. And we had forgotten how a hit of Dristan was “like sending your sinuses to Arizona.”
Musically, the Rain men were versatile and their psychedelic video presentation was a fun diversion, which was a good thing. Because with all of these tribute shows, the illusion is spoiled if you look too closely.
At first blush, it appeared that “Paul” might be a girl and “Ringo,” an Eskimo. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that. The Eskimo Invasion produced some timeless hits. Personal favorite: I Am the Narwhal.)
In other words, the cheap seats were the best seats. You could pretend the balcony was the upper deck at Shea Stadium (R.I.P.) and those little mop tops (real mops!) on stage were the Fab Four at second base.
Oh, wait a minute, the Fab Four are another group of Reasonable Facsimiles.
Hey, is that name available? It’s high time the Rutles had a tribute show.