CHARLOTTESVILLE
--Musician Jimmy Buffett jokes about being a kid who refuses to grow up, an entertainer grooving on an endless summer where life is one big party on stage and off.But here at John Paul Jones Arena Tuesday night, if you looked beyond the palm trees, the hula-dancing singers and the beach video on a backdrop screen, you found one of the hardest working men in show business.
Sure, strumming a six-string and singing tunes like "It's Five O'Clock Somewhere," "One Particular Harbour" and "Fins" isn't exactly digging ditches.
But taking the stage the minute the show was supposed to start, launching a 150-minute set that included 27 songs and two encores, the fit, tanned, beach-attired Buffett was all business.
Sure, he joked about boat drinks, getting lucky, howling at the moon and keeping the fun of summer going until Thanksgiving.
But he also fronted one of the most talented and cohesive bands in all of music, never missing a beat in the music and patter of his Polynesian paradise persona.
And he performed with the vigor and easily accessible tunes that have made "Jimmy Buffett" and "Parrotheads" household words.
"Sorry it took us 20 years to get back here after the last show," said Buffett of his last visit to C'ville. "As I recall, it was on Safe Sex Day. From the number of young people in the audience, I'm guessing that didn't really work out all that well."
I've always thought that Buffett, the musician, gets a bad rap from those who don't really know his music.
Yes, he's the guy who wrote "Why Don't We Get Drunk and " well, you know--as well as the fellow who croons about "wasting away in Margaritaville."
And yes, a small percentage of his followers enjoy mind-altering substances.
But he's also one of the more solid, ever-touring musicians around, and the author of "Come Monday," "A Pirate Looks at 40" and "Son of a Son of a Sailor," all more introspective tunes that speak to love and respecting others for their unique ways of life.
As I realized, watching his high-energy, precisely-staged and presented show, Buffett is also as "dumb" as a fox.
He's realized that many of us in this modern day world have stretched ourselves too thin, pushing and pulling so hard that we're dying for a little respite.
Voila! He creates Margaritaville, that magical, mythical mind-set where life is filled with beautiful island beaches, palm trees, good waves and, above all, no stress or deadlines of any kind.
His message: Pull up some sand, pardner; trade that business suit for some Jams and a Hawaiian shirt, have a Polynesian punch and, for a while, just enjoy.
That's the mix of music and attitude that had Parrotheads tailgating at JPJ for hours before the concert here Tuesday, donning coconut bras and grass skirts in time for the evening show.
By day, they might have been lawyers, doctors or insurance salesmen with deadlines or bills pending.
But when Jimmy took the stage to the strains of "Hot! Hot! Hot!," all they cared about, all any of us cared about, was catching his wave and the positive vibe it brings.
Just enjoying the ride.
For a few hours where every note struck by Buffett and his Coral Reefer Band was a right one, we were part of Jimmy's world.
Our stout sailor's hearts might have flagged a bit by the time the excitement faded on our way out of the parking lot.
But they're rechargeable simply by popping in our favorite Buffett CD.
Yes, it can all seem a little silly and juvenile to those who can't wrap their heads around the "Gidget Goes Hawaiian" gestalt of it all.
But for me, it's all a smooth salve for the soul: island and sailing songs, steel drums and calypso rhythms, and musicians and harmonies all smoothly mixed.
With, out front, a guy who seems to be having more fun today that he did when he first stepped on that pop top and had to limp on back home.
Wasting away in Margaritaville?
To me it seems more like, as he says in a song, he's having one helluva ride.
Rob Hedelt: 540/374-5415
Email: rhedelt@freelancestar.com