What’s the worst thing about being 6′2″ at a concert?

Your nose begins where the drunk, stocky, and deceptively strong 5′4″ girl’s fist ends as she pumps her arm with all of her strength to “Thorn in my Pride”.

So much for “VIP Box Seats” … I would have felt safer stage diving out of the box and into the crowd below. Our box which was supposed to seat something like 15 people ended up having about 50 people as my box partners from Tennessee managed to sneak all of their friends, family, and cousins into the “VIP Box”. Add a healthy amount of pot and beer (and possibly moonshine), and well … the VIP box turned into a trailer park house party with Cletus and LuAnne almost knocking me over the rail at one point.

Am I complaining?

Hell no.

I would not have had it any other way. It was a complete blast.

Sure, I could have done without the fractured nose, but that comes with the territory. I would prefer the punch to people sitting politely at a concert.

Before the show I was talking with the Tennessee contingent (very nice people, BTW), and they said they came to Vegas to see the Crowes because “when we see them in Tennessee, the crowd is full of college kids”. You know, the people who would avoid a dirtbag (that’s what he calls himself) like Chris Robinson like he had the plague, and make untold numbers of “burnout loser” comments if they didn’t recognize him. The people college folks seem to idolize the most, are people who skipped formal education altogether and did their own thing. Irony.

Anyway, it seems the Tennessee folks had a point. The Vegas crowd didn’t seem to have too many academics present. To the contrary, I got to see more corn-fed cleavage and daisy duke thighs in one place than anywhere else in my life. And if anyone was sober … they sure as hell didn’t let it show.

Although the crowd wasn’t huge (the upper level seats were closed off and the venue was maybe 60-70% full), those that were there were surprisingly rabid. Especially enthusiastic were the folks in general admission, and of course my new cousins that shared a box with me.

Chris Robinson came out looking like what I imagine Jesus would have looked like after ten bong hits, and the band proceeded to bring the house down.

Most of the music I recognized, some of it I didn’t. They did some classics like “Sister Luck”, “Jealous Again”, “Thorn in My Pride” and “Hard to Handle”. A large part of the show was jam sessions between songs. It reminded me a bit of the way Prince tweaked his show. Instead of playing a hit, stopping, playing another hit, stopping, etc … after a song was “officially” over, the band continued jamming, filling in with guitar solos, keyboard solos, and drum solos.

Incredible musicians, all of them. And Robinson’s voice didn’t show much age that I could detect.

While there were obviously some pauses for equipment changes and swigs of alcoholic beverages, it was much more a 2 hour Southern Rock jam session than a stop and go “concert”. And when they did stop, the crowd roared loudly. One guy jumped the rail in an attempt to get on stage, but was thwarted by security.

It was my second time at The Pearl, and I still really like the venue. The acoustics are very good, and the layout provides a really good mix of general admission and seating options.

The opening band “Buffalo Killers” from Cincinnati, Ohio were better than I was expecting. They are only a trio (two lead singers play guitar and bass + drummer), but they sounded more full. They have a unique sound that is hard to explain, but solid in the rural rock genre.

Really good night at the Palms.

Although my swollen nose will probably stay with me for quite awhile.