Momma said there’d be days like this but momma never said there’d be nights like the one hosted at Hard Rock Live Orlando and delivered by Joe Satriani and Steve Morse.
Rock’s ebbing force began promptly as scheduled and, for three hours, the universal space/time continuum warped through an unstoppable momentum. Fueled by vigorous vibration, Steve Morse performed to an audiences insatiable enthusiasm. For forty minutes Steve Morse and band orchestrated what could only be defined as uncooked auditory inspiration while a collective consciousness begged nostalgia to find her way back home.
Heavy curved on the raw side, the band did not pretend the reason for the night… to rock, to rock, and then to rock some more… and rock they did.
Taken in by a sound rebounding years gone by, I began fearing the mounting pitch launched from the stage would be too much for the predominantly middle aged audience to handle without serious health consequence. Tight-gripping all decibels and to my amazement, a brief intermission found no paramedics rushing to save a soul not forgotten by time.
Being a product of the 60’s and 70’s, I’ve witnessed my share of established rock bands (Rush, Triumph, Led Zepplin, KISS, ZZ Top) as well as a handful of master guitarists (can you say slow-hand?). Feeling prepared for what Joe Satriani was about to bring, nothing was as surprising as what walked passively on stage.
Dressed comfortably and hidden behind dark shades, Satriani’s appreciation of a standing room only Hard Rock crowd reciprocated an even higher degree of respect. Without doubt and consumed by a single hand slide, a loyal and vocal fan base was about to reach nirvana.
First impression: Thank you Hard Rock Live Orlando for bringing this guitar wizard to Central Florida.
Second impression: How the hell does Satriani stroke six strings to such depth, caressing each bar with life from an otherwise inorganic slip of metal?
Satriani’s only break from guitar jam came slightly after midway when drummer Marco Minnemann proved himself worthy of being on stage with the very best of guitarists. His solo run, lasting close to ten minutes, blended hard core beats, soft-shelled pings, just enough wood, and eight pounds of personality.
Often finding himself dueling with Satriani, keyboard artist and guitar extraordinaire, Mike Keneally proved to be two layers of bad-ass and a rightful place as one of the great.
Bassist Bryan Beller rounded out the band while appearing to be the most reserved. Supported by mind-boggling talent, Bryan’s significance could never be overstated… yes, he is that good.
Leading the elite, Satriani’s style of becoming one with the instrument without detaching himself from the audience bled through each thread. Back-dropping the performance, a theater-sized screen sped visuals matching stage events. Two explicit influences come to mind as close-ups of Satriani speed dialing his guitar paralleled live performance. This eye-catching technique effectively united all within the venue as one… a true act of brilliance and as close to melodic paradise as one could experience while in the vertical.
Carrying “unstoppable momentum” to its peak, over the next two hours Satriani confirmed his spot as one of the greatest rock guitarists of all time. Completion of one of his more recognizable songs, “A door into Summer” quieted any legendary doubt, if ever there was doubt.
The demonstration concluded smoothly with the exception that it meant our time-traveling to a space where unfiltered rock in reality rocked has been transposed to a contemporary 2013 where virtual legends are created, developed, and marketed digitally.
Final impression: Momma, you should’ve told me crazy-great is what happens at night in the Hard Rock Live Orlando venue.
Danny Huffman
West Orlando News Online,
Got Twitter? Shadow on #dannyatecs
