Todd Rundgren kicked off in fine voice with a two-hour set at The Gov that acted as an abridged Rundgren Songbook. The show generously sampled a career of more than 40 years, which in pretend DJ mode he half-mockingly labelled “all the hits, all the time”. But hits they were, and delivered in pure power-pop fashion by a master of the art.
Rundgren has left his mark in all sorts of musical places: as a solo artist, band leader and member (including The New Cars in 2006 and as featured guitarist in Ringo Starr’s All-Starr Band); playing with live orchestral accompaniment; running university courses; and producing lots of work for other acts. In all of this he has also been a constant innovator in electronics, production techniques and live sound systems. On this night, though, the wizard/true star was in a relatively modest live show and working with the basics as part of a five-piece band.
A little shakiness at the start of “Kindhearted Woman Blues” from Johnson, his album covering songs by the great Robert Johnson, was one of only a few signs of Rundgren’s voice having lost any strength. Range was occasionally an issue, as he self-deprecatingly commented later about aiming for a falsetto passage, and missing. What stood out, however, was how enduring his compositions are; richly textured
So many tracks to mention: “Lucky Guy” (from Hermit of Mink Hollow) was a riveting irony-free zone of gratitude, which also happened to show a Rundgren trait, the effective use of hand gestures. “I like to get this out of the way,” he said, before launching into the much-loved “Can We Still Be Friends?”. The upbeat wired “Espresso (All Jacked Up)” was every danceable, Rundgren claiming it threatened cardiac arrest.
The compelling “Hawking” sounded rather like “The Verb ‘To Love’”, just as moving but darker. Yes, there was also “It Wouldn’t Have Made Any Difference”, “Soul Brother” with a James Brown flourish, the samba-accented “I Want You”, “I Saw the Light”, and much more.
Rundgren can conjure anthemic tunes but they are not merely empty posturing or gimmick. Each tends to address some real matter of feeling, helped on this occasion by Jesse Gress (an alter-Todd) on guitar and Prairie Prince (ex-Tubes) on drums. It was also a pleasure to see bassist Kasim Sulton, whose work with Rundgren dates back to 1976; somehow he looked as if he hasn’t aged.
The performance closed with the lovely “A Dream Goes On Forever”, a fitting conclusion.
