Then again, headlining elegant ballrooms as enigmatic icons, rather than being booked into auditoriums opening for Bread, is, one would think, more tempting. As was also made abundantly clear during the show - the first of three nights at the Wang, scheduled to resume tomorrow - being able to bring a coterie of virtuosos along to breathe vibrant life into once-hermetically sealed studio classics like “Rikki Don’t Lose That Number’’ certainly has its upside.
The eight-piece Miles High Big Band (plus three female vocalists dubbed Embassy Brats), proved a muscular complement to Becker’s and Fagen’s wry odes to compromise and aging (“Reelin’ In The Years’’); spectacular self-destruction (“Do It Again’’); and hollow self-absorption (“Show Biz Kids’’). There was rueful but playful nostalgia (“My Old School’’), and always, the dark humor and snarky spirit lurking under that magnificent - and deceptive - surface sheen.
The hall was half-full, but the devoted were many, and the Dan delivered over the course of a two-hour-plus show, hot off of a seven-night stand in New York. With his dry, acerbic sneer, strained at times, but unmistakably his own instrument, Fagen led the charge through the laconically jazzy “Your Gold Teeth,’’ accented by his cool electric piano, while Becker supplied tasteful, and tasty, electric guitar throughout. He was more than aided and abetted by the sensational work of lead guitarist Jon Herington on showy highlights like a supple, stealthy “Black Friday.’’ True, it was only Wednesday. But workouts like “Kid Charlemagne’’ made it feel like the weekend. And there was, for the record, no snickering (OK, maybe a little). Just well-earned cheers.
Jonathan Perry can be reached at roughgems@comcast.net.
