Mann's World

Yngwie: The agony and the ecstacy.

OK, since I'm not an Yngwieologist, I really can't give you a lot of juicy details about what I saw last nightat the Lincoln Theatre. I can say this: When he was soloing alone (which was a good bit of the time), it was the loudest damn thing I've ever heard in my life -- and not in a good way. I, Karen A. Mann, actually went and bought earplugs about halfway through. I can also say this: What he was doing, with all the self-indulgent wanking and indiscriminant effects, really reminded me a lot of what one of my idols, Omar Rodriguez-Lopez, is always trying to do. My Volta buds will kill me for admitting that.

Anyway, when he first came on, after an hour and a half wait following the opening band, it really was pretty exciting. The man can play more notes in two seconds than I can play in an entire year. And he slings a really valuable guitar around his neck, flips it in the air, and tosses it backward over his head in a way that keeps you mesmerized. Kind of like how you have to watch trapeze artists because you just know one of them is going to fall and get killed. Danny characterized it as like a trainwreck that you just can't stop watching.

But by the end of the evening, even the hard-core Yngwie fans I know who had seen him many times and were dying to see him again, were yawning. The guy can play zillions of notes, but playing a song seems to be beyond his capabilities. Still, it was a good birthday present. I wish Jessica could have been there so she could see how much of a rip-off Andy Sartori is. But I wish we could both see Ritchie Blackmore so we could see how much of a rip-off Yngwie is.

Also, please excuse the phone photo. I really didn't believe I'd be allowed to bring my camera into the show, but it turns out quite a few people had them, so maybe some photos will show up somewhere else.