Daryl Hall And John Oates at the State Theatre
Even more than Michael Jackson, the admirer who eclipsed them, Daryl Hall And John Oates embody the joy of craft in ’80s pop. They built an astonishing series of perfect songs—strong and beautiful structures to withstand time and changing inhabitants. And Hall still sings with the pleasure of a guy welcoming in the world.
On Friday night, when he told a packed State Theatre, “This was one of the first places to embrace us,” he meant KQRS breaking “She’s Gone” on AOR in the mid-’70s, not any more romantic or personal connection, though that came up too, with Hall turning to Oates and saying, “You’ve got plenty of memories—wives and stuff.” (Oates married one local fan. Hall fathered a son with another.)
Given the demographic span of Friday’s crowd—from Chromeo fans to people who remember when cocaine was practically legal—nostalgia couldn’t have been the only reason “She’s Gone” elicited the night’s first wild response. The band opened hot, with original saxophonist Charlie DeChant in a pink suit playing graceful solos, and newer percussionist Everett Bradley providing the evening’s best body-language flair. But the first four tunes—“Maneater,” “Family Man,” “Out of Touch,” and “Say It Isn’t So”—felt like warm-up once Oates stepped up to fully co-sing “Las Vegas Turnaround” and then “She’s Gone,” which Hall introduced as something they’ve “played a million times” but that “still feels right,” and during which he loosed his freest and most soulful vocals. The standing ovation was so long, Hall quipped, “You really liked that one!”
Maybe fans had been thrown at first by changing iconography: Oates has moved his old mustache down below his bottom lip for a soul patch; Hall hid behind a beard and shades, and was wearing a leather jacket over a T-shirt for Live From Daryl’s House (his Internet show, which he plugged in an endearingly long ramble).
Hall got tough on the old-school-ish “Do What You Want, Be What You Are,” the title track of the duo’s gorgeously sequenced 2009 box set—and the only non-hit from their catalog that they performed. But the show-stopper was “I Can’t Go For That (No Can Do),” which, despite missing its automated ’80s sleekness, was a rousing band-funk number of sweat and bones, the timeless verses and chorus coming alive.
There was no way for the most successful duo of all time to play all of its hits and still forage outward—they forsook “Private Eyes,” “One On One,” “Method Of Modern Love,” and many others. Still, closing with three Christmas songs seemed a waste: No hometown Philly favorites? No Prince covers? Maybe it was about living down impossible expectations. After closing their first encore with the sublime “You Make My Dreams,” Hall and Oates seemed visibly relaxed for Robbie Robertson’s “Christmas Must Be Tonight,” a nice “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear,” and a forgettable “Jingle Bell Rock.” They were other people’s structures, just as sturdy.
