My Wild Night with Jimmy Messina, or How I Sold Out My Principles at the First Sight of Clint Black

I was six years old when Loggins & Messina broke up. Back then, Kenny Loggins and Jimmy Messina were competitive little squirts in their 20s with way too much talent and perhaps a bit too much ego. The two personalities became too much for each other, and they went their separate ways in 1976. Fortunately, the seemingly endless span of thirty years eroded the egos, but not the abilities. The astonishing raw talent, so much in evidence when they were young, had long since given way to a richly textured skill honed by those thirty-odd years.

The difference between the youthful Loggins & Messina and the concert I heard Sunday night was like the difference between getting busy with a young man and an older one -- the younger ones can show you a sweaty, energetic night that lasts forever, but the older one really, really knows what he's doing. It's the difference between a sharp gasp and a low, languid moan.

Oh my -- did I say that out loud? I was thinking it, but I had no idea I'd actually said it. I must have been thinking about Jim Messina again. Forgive me for a moment while I press a cold cloth to my forehead.

Ahem. I think I've collected myself sufficiently to continue.

We were sitting in the eighth row -- so close I could practically see their fingernails as they picked their guitars. Messina is so good at what he does that it's obviously second nature. Watching him, one gets the impression that he could play a successful concert while juggling oranges or balancing a basketball on his head. And it's clear Kenny Loggins has never become bored with his music, even after so many years of it -- he wore his joy in every expression and every movement, and added these exuberant little leaps to his performance that just made you love him.

About halfway through, Jim Messina announced that Clint Black would be sittin' in for a song or two. Click here for pictures. Though his music alleviated many a long commute on I-40 from Greensboro, North Carolina to Duke Law School in Durham, Clint Black is not exactly on my most-loved list these days. But he sang "Killin' Time" and sat in on some other songs with L&M, and it was -- insert heavy sigh here -- just really damn good.

And I suppose the whole Clint Black issue illuminated a thought that germinated during the concert. There's something inherently odd about the live music experience. On a personal level, it's only minimally mutual -- though there's a bit of narcissism on both sides of this coin. To the audience, these performers are larger than life, each fan having stamped them with their own projections, experiences and desires.

Performers must be aware of this, at least to some degree. I think it's the ones with the least understanding of this principle who tend to succumb to the deepest degree of celebro-narcissism. But we cannot possibly love them for who they are, because we only know as much of them as they allow us to. I am a perfect example of this. It had never occurred to me that Clint Black would have political beliefs I find utterly repugnant, because I had projected my own notions onto him.

This much I can say, though. I don't know what Jim Messina's favorite foods are, whether he had a tough time in third grade, whether he sleeps on his side or on his back, or what his grandmother was like. I don't know what Kenny Loggins' favorite book is, or whether he reads at all, or what his relationship with his kids is like. But I do know what they look like and how they sound when they sing "Vehevala" or "Long Tail Cat" or "Peace of Mind." And that small part of them that I do know, I love. And so do thousands upon thousands of others.

And maybe that's enough -- for us and for them.