A couple of evenings ago, my wife and I went to see Randy Newman at the Sheldon Concert Hall. I've been a longtime fan of Randy's wit, sense of melody, and his piano work that somehow straddles ragtime, tin pan alley, and modern styles uniquely. Not having seen him live before, I had some trepidation before laying down the hundred bucks or so the tickets required.

As per my usual pre-concert routine, we played some of Randy's CDs in the car on the way there. We sang along, laughed to the funny lines, and gasped (still) at the heartbreak found in some of his songs. We were primed when we pulled up and walked in.

He didn't let us down. He played most of the favorites and a few obscure tunes along the way. He was funny and engaging without seeming rehearsed. He took a yeoman's attitude to the evening and played solo piano, sang, and told stories for nearly three hours. But I'm not writing a review right now. I came to talk about something else (nod to Arlo)...

I was rapt by this performance and it reminded me why I love live music so much. In today's society, you can't escape music. It's in the elevator. It's in the grocery store. It's on your iPod and your computer. It plays in the background during news stories. It's on your cell phone to announce your significant other's call. Oh, and it's still on the radio in your car too. And every time you hear it, it's in rhythm, in pitch, and flawless.

And somehow, when you've heard enough of it, you get trained to expect perfection at all times. Guess what? Not much of it is true. There's about a million takes to get the parts all correct. Oh, that guitar solo? It's from 5 or 6 different takes and blended together. The lead vocal? Cut and spliced using ProTools so that it's perfectly in pitch. And did you realize that there are probably over 20 different tracks on that recording? The point? We've come so far with recording technology that it's hard to discern what's real and what's an amalgam of performances and a misrepresentation of the real talent of the artists.

Seeing Randy Newman was a true experience for me. He played nearly perfectly, but occasionally there was a misplaced note. His voice wavered from time to time. His tempo shifted just a bit on a couple of songs. But in his own way, it was as true and genuine as anything I'd ever heard. Here was music being created in the moment in its most raw format and it rang true to its creation.

The perfection of a recording is akin to a posed Sears Family Portrait. It marks a point in time in which something happened. It has value and often becomes an heirloom. Live music, on the other hand, is the candid snapshot in which you see the truth in the eyes of the subject. These moments allow you to see the "man behind the curtain."

Note: The World Isn't Fair is a favorite Randy Newman song of mine and somehow seems appropriate to me. While amazing songwriters like Randy make reasonable, tidy livings doing what they do and doing it with wit and charm, lesser talents make huge sums of money and become pop icons. Then again, Britney probably wouldn't understand most of Randy's songs either. Tell me how did we get to the point that society thumbs their noses at smart people and celebrates the schlubs?