Late Night In The Afternoon
As some of you know (because I sent out a bragging email yesterday), thanks to my good friend Dan I was able to attend one of the Conan O'Brien shows taping here in SF yesterday afternoon. It was a ton of fun, with a die-hard audience that obviously loved Conan and just wouldn't quit. To tell you how long it's been since I've done something like that, the last time was when I was in high school and went to a taping of the Tonight Show with Johnny Carson in Burbank. (*cue Doc Severinsen* Johnny's guests tonight! Bob Hope! Michael Landon! Miss America! Probably somebody else I don't remember!)
Conan cuts an extremely interesting figure onstage, tall and lean and very physically sure of himself. He's all legs and elbows and cheekbones and hair. I could only hear about half of everything that was said, because the audience was so loud. I do remember a line from the opening monologue about the Republican presidential debate that was happening at the same time: "All races, creeds, colors and genders of white men are represented in the debate."
We sat in the mezzanine level, and, following the advice of numerous respondents to my email message, I wore the most lurid Hawaiian shirt I own, so that I could be easily spotted just in case the camera looked my way. I don't think that ever happened, but I don't know for sure yet because I haven't watched the show myself. I'm an early riser, and can't stay up that late on a school night. Mrs. Generik taped it for me, and I'll probably give it a look-see this weekend.
At one point there were Frisbees flying up into the mezzanine and balcony just above my head, so it's possible that there was a glimpse of me then, but more than likely not. Which is really just as well. They say the camera adds ten pounds, and I think I've got four or five cameras trained on me at all times. Besides, I know what I look like.
Anyway, as I said, it was great fun just being there. Mighty Max Weinberg, looking like a well-fed investment banker in white shirt and tie (he put on a coat once the show started), had his band open the pre-show portion, just before they started taping, with a blistering version of the old soul instrumental The Horse. The second song -- the name of which escapes me -- featured a trumpet solo that my friend Dan had told me to watch out for. It lasted a good five minutes or more -- five minutes of the Junior Soprano look-alike trumpeter playing one solid note until the audience screamed themselves into a frenzy. To be perfectly honest, I thought the Max Weinberg 7 was far superior to the musical guest, Bob Weir and RatDog. My pal Marty, who was also in attendance, enjoyed that segment, though, simply because he was once a true-blue Deadhead, and they performed an old favorite of his, Jack Straw.
The first guest was Randy Jackson from American Idol -- I know, I know, but I didn't pick the guests -- and the one thing I found most amusing about that was seeing a picture of him from back when he was the bass player for the group Journey (which I never knew until yesterday). His Kid 'n' Play-meets-Gumby by way of Prince haircut in the picture was worth the price of admission alone. Comedian Patton Oswalt was next, with some funny stuff, but it was hard to hear because the audience was so raucous. Then came the national disc-golf (not Frisbee golf, we were advised) champion, and a demonstration of disc-tossing that ended with a dozen or so Frisbees being flung into the audience. After the taping stopped, Conan spent a good 15 or 20 minutes shaking hands with and signing autographs for his adoring audience members.
All in all, a very fun time for me and Mrs. G and Marty (and another friend, Melissa, who joined us). Big thanks to my good friend Dan for taking care of his pals.
Conan cuts an extremely interesting figure onstage, tall and lean and very physically sure of himself. He's all legs and elbows and cheekbones and hair. I could only hear about half of everything that was said, because the audience was so loud. I do remember a line from the opening monologue about the Republican presidential debate that was happening at the same time: "All races, creeds, colors and genders of white men are represented in the debate."
We sat in the mezzanine level, and, following the advice of numerous respondents to my email message, I wore the most lurid Hawaiian shirt I own, so that I could be easily spotted just in case the camera looked my way. I don't think that ever happened, but I don't know for sure yet because I haven't watched the show myself. I'm an early riser, and can't stay up that late on a school night. Mrs. Generik taped it for me, and I'll probably give it a look-see this weekend.
At one point there were Frisbees flying up into the mezzanine and balcony just above my head, so it's possible that there was a glimpse of me then, but more than likely not. Which is really just as well. They say the camera adds ten pounds, and I think I've got four or five cameras trained on me at all times. Besides, I know what I look like.
Anyway, as I said, it was great fun just being there. Mighty Max Weinberg, looking like a well-fed investment banker in white shirt and tie (he put on a coat once the show started), had his band open the pre-show portion, just before they started taping, with a blistering version of the old soul instrumental The Horse. The second song -- the name of which escapes me -- featured a trumpet solo that my friend Dan had told me to watch out for. It lasted a good five minutes or more -- five minutes of the Junior Soprano look-alike trumpeter playing one solid note until the audience screamed themselves into a frenzy. To be perfectly honest, I thought the Max Weinberg 7 was far superior to the musical guest, Bob Weir and RatDog. My pal Marty, who was also in attendance, enjoyed that segment, though, simply because he was once a true-blue Deadhead, and they performed an old favorite of his, Jack Straw.
The first guest was Randy Jackson from American Idol -- I know, I know, but I didn't pick the guests -- and the one thing I found most amusing about that was seeing a picture of him from back when he was the bass player for the group Journey (which I never knew until yesterday). His Kid 'n' Play-meets-Gumby by way of Prince haircut in the picture was worth the price of admission alone. Comedian Patton Oswalt was next, with some funny stuff, but it was hard to hear because the audience was so raucous. Then came the national disc-golf (not Frisbee golf, we were advised) champion, and a demonstration of disc-tossing that ended with a dozen or so Frisbees being flung into the audience. After the taping stopped, Conan spent a good 15 or 20 minutes shaking hands with and signing autographs for his adoring audience members.
All in all, a very fun time for me and Mrs. G and Marty (and another friend, Melissa, who joined us). Big thanks to my good friend Dan for taking care of his pals.
posted by Generik at 3:32 PM
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