One of the lesser-known benefits of living in Traverse City is the Interlochen Music Camp, a few miles south of town. It's one of the best music camps in the country, with many successful grads in the business, and as a result, their summer concert series attracts a great variety of stellar musicians from all genres.
One who comes nearly every year is Lyle Lovett, whom I went to see with my wife for the third year in a row last night. He brought his 15-piece band with him, as usual, though he didn't have the gospel choir this time, as he did last year.
So why would I mention that? Because Lyle Lovett puts together his band the way I've always tried to do it, and the way Bill Coore does it. [We even have a couple of guys in our employ who could get up there on stage and play, though Jeff Bradley would probably fit in with Lyle's band better than Brian Slawnik would.] He's got a bunch of guys who are great at what they do ... there's someone who can kick ass on banjo, bass, bongos, cello, drums, piano, other vocalists, and of course multiple guitar players ... and who all respect each other's abilities. They all have to spend a lot of time on the road, and they all clearly love what they do. And Lyle lets them play, because he knows that's what the audience came to hear.
At the same time, over the course of a concert, there is a tremendous variety of stuff. If I had to guess, I'd guess they played about 18 songs last night. They started off slowly with only four pieces [bass, cello, violin, and Lyle on guitar], and then brought in a few more midway through the second or third song. They went loud and picked up the tempo for a while, including three backup singers from L.A. Then he sent nearly everyone off, and did a three-part harmony bluegrass section for 3-4 songs, before calling back the full band to close the show. Along the way, every single one of the band members did a solo or a duet where they were the focus ... the cellist blew everyone away in the encore.
And that's the best analogy I've come across lately for how to put a golf course together. To get the perfect variety of 18 holes, you need some quieter notes, and there are moments where you ought to let one instrument or one hazard shine; and there are others where you throw the whole band at it. But there are way too many architects who come out with a big band of guys who play loud and over the top of one another, to where you can't even tell how good each of the players really is.
I am sure that others have tried to make this same point here using jazz or classical music as examples; I'm a bit thick on the subject of music so I probably just didn't understand. But as long as Lyle Lovett keeps coming back to Interlochen, I'll have at least one reminder a year, and my wife will be a little less bummed the next time I have to go away for a few days.