Things That Get Better With Age: Wine, and Sheryl Crow

It seems to be a law of nature that many artists tend to lose their voices as they get older. Their pipes rust, the honey of their lilt becomes bitter. As we filed into the Nikon Theater at Jones Beach on Monday night, we were afraid that our beloved Sheryl would be no exception. How wrong we were to worry. Sheryl (who, after all, is only 46... and, may I mention... hotter than most women half her age) sang as I have never heard her sing before. After opening with a hauntingly sad rendition of "God Bless this Mess"(which I found a strange choice for an opener) with a peace sign floating on a banner behind her, she faithfully followed with a string of hard-hitting numbers including "Shine Over Babylon"- a song I was not in love with the recording of. At least, it did not resonate in the core of me quite like the anthems of Tuesday Night Music Club (1993) or the following, self-titled album (1996). But let me make this clear: Sheryl Crow does not write bad songs. It is simply not in her nature. She came on stage in skin tight pants and her new, sky-high heels (which, she proclaimed, she wore just for us), proceeding to change my mind about "Babylon"- and about her. As Jon said, she "sang the hell out of that chorus," with a country-infused tone, a rockstar's stance, and a pop professional's power. If I shut my eyes, could I forget that this was the Sheryl Crow I knew and imagine I was listening to Christina Aguilera's older, wiser, battle-hardened sister? She didn't give me the opportunity to try; I couldn't look away. Unfortunately, the folks at Nikon Jones Beach Theater didn't seem to care about where my gaze was directed: the screens on each side were down for the entire concert, preventing us from truly seeing the little spec with the big voice.

James Blunt's voice, on the other hand, seemed to be shrinking with every refrain as if remonstrating the number of smoke plumes that had probably assaulted it that day. He faked it by having the audience sing his signature high note which was, ironically, the one note that gave him trouble Monday. Going to the concert, Jonathan and I, admittedly, were in no rush to catch the opening act, but, despite our best efforts, we did anyway. We are not James Blunt fans, and had already presumed an hour of his fluttery voice and bleeding heart. Yes, he did fulfill the promise of his sensitive image, but also introduced us to another James Blunt: the one possessing some cajones while still being, well, James Blunt. I realized the songs other than his hits are actually much more interesting, more concert-worthy, and- dare I say?- rock 'n' roll.

Skipping around stage, standing precariously and pretending to surf on his piano, he riled a tough crowd of moms and young professionals who I'm guessing, for the most part, knew one or maybe two of his songs but not him in particular. Drawing from a seemingly endless well of energy and looking ecstatic just to be there, he put on a great show, with more than just the help of his incredibly tight band.

For the encore, Sheryl brought down the house with a cover of Stevie Wonder's "Higher Ground" and showcased her backup singers in their own mini sing-off: a benevolent act that, consequentially, showcased her unbroken tie with her beginnings as a backup singer. It was a big band, but everyone had their place.

Sheryl's political soapbox moment, on the other hand, could have done with some paring down. Though I'm told it was tame for her usual, and though I agreed with a lot of her sentiments, it probably alienated a good portion of her audience. Her political grumblings were followed by the one song in the entire concert that I actually did not care for, titled "Gasoline Will Be Free" which laments the less-than-poetic topic of the price of black gold which, while unfortunate, is not more pressing or more powerful than, say, the violence in Darfur. Jonathan later made the argument that "people go to concerts to forget that stuff," and I can see that. But I can also see the purpose of bringing to light the things that you are passionate about in the breaths between the songs they inspired. Just don't forget how mainstream your appeal is, Sheryl, and how much it feels like a betrayal when Rhonda hears her idol bash her political affiliation. However, as previously mentioned, it is simply a law of nature that Sheryl does not write bad songs. So even this song with less-than-inspirational lyrics was still endowed with a catchy melody, and fell within the realm of mediocrity. That is, unless you want to argue that E does not equal MC-squared. And that's just ridiculous.