Saying Goodbye to Rick Davies of Supertramp

I wrote about Supertramp’s Breakfast in America eleven years ago and later included it in my list of all-time favorites, along with the band’s album, Crisis? What Crisis?  In my summary of those two inclusions, I wrote:

I can’t overstate how important this band was to the young version of me, insecure and creative, the youngest child of separated parents. Hodgson’s lyrics were the empathetic voice I craved, though I can’t say for sure that I understood them all at the time. Listening to Supertramp nearly forty years on, the band’s output still holds up. I’ve always loved the juxtaposition of Davies’s and Hodgson’s respective oeuvres, one cynical and cranky, one spiritual and nurturing, and together they were greater than the sum of their parts. 

Rick Davies died a few days ago, and as important as some of Hodgson’s lyrics were to me as a youth, it was Davies’s piano skills that attracted much of my attention, as I moved beyond the Michael Aaron piano books I’d been trudging through for years and started to explore playing songs that I loved. When I was twelve, I purchased the manuscript book of Crime of the Century, and I studied those songs with curiosity, amazement and confusion, unable to play some of the licks to my satisfaction. Easiest among the lot was the title track, and for a brief period I played the song in the living room of classmates Jon and Scott Wittkopf, who added drums and guitar to the mix. It was my first foray into playing with a group, and it jumpstarted my excitement to be in a band as I dreamed of music stardom.  

My brother soon encouraged me to learn “Another Man’s Woman,” a piano tour-de-force that begins with a terrific percussive groove and culminates with an equally terrific solo, and I managed to do a fair job of replicating it by ear rather than a manuscript. Soon to follow were songs like “Asylum,” “Just Another Nervous Wreck,” and “From Now On.” This band was inspiring!

But for any pianist, it was “Bloody Well Right” that set the standard, with Davies’s extended blues-based Wurlizer solo instantly recognizable. I must say that I fumbled through it as a child, only kinda-sorta achieving the spirit of the solo if not the actual notes. It wasn’t until I was in my 30s that I finally sat down and transcribed the solo note for note, slowing the tune down to identify some of the faster runs, and even today it’s an intro that break out from time to time.

Beyond the obvious piano chops of Rick Davies, his sonically-edged compositions helped to compensate for Hodgson’s sweeter side. Davies basically played Lennon to Hodgson’s McCartney, or Amy Ray to Emily Saliers of Indigo Girls, offering a bit of cynicism and realism to the philosophical Hodgson. I thought that Davies really hit his stride on Breakfast in America and Famous Last Words…, the final Supertramp albums before Hodgson left the band. I loved songs like “Gone Hollywood,” “Oh Darling,” “Just Another Nervous Wreck,” “Put on Your Old Brown Shoes,” and “Waiting So Long.” They may not have been hits, but they helped elevate the Supertramp releases into satisfying listening experiences, making them “complete” albums, and not just some filler songs amongst a few of Hodgson’s hits.

I got to see Rick Davies twice: once at Alpine Valley in 1983, and then two years later at MECCA in Milwaukee. For the latter show, I was excited that Davies would have more of a chance to shine as the only songwriter left in the band. Unfortunately, the setlist was lacking, as was Davies’ ability to hold an audience. It was decent, but it was clear that Supertramp missed Hodgson. Unfortunately, they would never play together again.

It was just two weeks ago that Hodgson lost a publishing royalty appeal between him and the rest of the band. A sad way to end the legacy of a great band.

Hodgson in Milwaukee

Prior to his performance on Saturday night at the Northern Lights Theater in Milwaukee, I hadn’t seen Roger Hodgson grace the stage since his final tour with Supertramp in 1983, and it was hard to believe the same man could belt out the same tunes as forcefully as he had three decades ago.  Sporting a white shirt and black vest, Hodgson alternated between keyboards and acoustic guitar, backed up by a four-piece band and a largely superfluous 17-piece orchestra. 

Beginning with “Take the Long Way Home,” Hodgson stuck largely to his Supertramp repertoire, performing each of his songs from 1974’s breakout album Crime of the Century and the mega-hit Breakfast in America, along with several from the intervening albums.  Particularly surprising were the inclusions of “Easy Does It” and “The Two of Us” from 1975’s Crisis?  What Crisis?  Notable absences on this particular evening were songs he performed on other nights of his four-night run in Milwaukee: “A Soapbox Opera” and “Even In the Quietest Moments.”  That he mostly ignored his solo career was a little disappointing, as I would have loved to have heard “Had a Dream” and “In Jeopardy” from his debut solo album, and I wish the Supertramp song “Crazy” would have been part of the setlist.  Also oddly absent from the evening was electric guitar.  Hodgson is a master at the tasteful solo or well-placed wail – placing him in the same category as David Gilmore – but these parts were instead arranged for the orchestra, whose presence was most appreciated on “Fool’s Overture,” Hodgson’s epic composition from 1977, and “Hide in Your Shell” from Crime of the Century. 

Roger seemed genuinely pleased at both being able to perform his old material at such a high level and by the audience’s reaction.  Supertramp made their North American debut in Milwaukee, and back when radio stations had more leeway to support particular artists, Milwaukee was one of the band’s hubs.  Hence the four successive shows at Northern Lights, an intimate theater that allowed Roger to give special dedications and wishes to various members of the audience between songs.  When he was with Supertramp, Hodgson and fellow singer/composer Rick Davies yielded audience interaction duties to saxophonist John Helliwell.  Now Hodgson takes on these duties himself, and he seems more comfortable in his own skin today than when he was at the height of his career. 

Hearing Hodgson’s band faithfully reproduce the parts originally played by Dougie Thomson, Bob Siebenberg, John Helliwell and Rick Davies only made me appreciate how adept the original band was at creating a “sound.”  Tastefully understated parts made the whole bigger, and though they may not have been household names, these guys what they were doing.  Current woodwind virtuoso Aaron Macdonald blew through recognizable solos from tunes such as “The Logical Song” and “It’s Raining Again,” and it highlighted how innovative and integral John Helliwell’s contributions to the original band were.  Drummer Bryan Head played behind a drum shield of Plexiglass, and while this may help with sound separation, it was visually unappealing.  More intricate bands have managed happily without one, and I wish sound engineers would employ other techniques to improve their live mixes.

Back in 1979, when Supertramp temporarily ruled the Billboard charts, “Take the Long Way Home” was a favorite of mine, but when I heard Hodgson sing it on Saturday, the following lines hit home harder than they ever had before:

When you look through the years and see what you could have been

Oh, what might have been

If you’d had more time

When I last saw Hodgson in 1983, I was fifteen, and the world’s expanse was limitless, the future so vast, I could hardly contain the very thought of it, my arms unable to open wide enough to embrace what lay ahead.  I no longer feel that way.   I suspect Roger doesn’t either, but it was cool to see a man happy to revisit the past for an evening and share it with an appreciative audience.