The Amsterdam of the South: Todd Rundgren Plays Atlanta

By Adam McIntyre

“You’re the Amsterdam of the South! I’ve never seen so much good green. Bless you for that. Good on ya! And 50 miles outside of town? Squidbillies.”
Todd Rundgren addressing Atlantans at the Variety Playhouse Theater; April 17, 2008

Early Cuyler of Squidbillies

Atlanta might look like a shining Metropolis of the South, but it is surrounded by a sea of poverty and bathtub methamphetamines. How can one enjoy the variety and diversity of a big city when just outside its perimeter such diversity is no longer welcome?

It’s just something we do here in Atlanta: forgive our elders and distant neighbors for being homophobic and racist because frankly, we’re outnumbered. Out there, it’s a bit like the Adult Swim show Squidbillies where (lovingly portrayed) inbred redneck squids encounter aliens, homosexuals, law enforcement, and religion while wackiness ensues in rural Georgia. Head Squidbilly Early Cuyler puts a stop to most things he doesn’t like by using a shotgun. Inside the city gates, however, anything goes.

Todd Rundgren, who is equally considered a cult phenomenon and pop sensation, should feel at home in a contradictory place like this. Come, eat Mediterranean food and grits while listening to Anoushka Shankar, have some Absinthe, enjoy the pretty boys with deep southern accents. Or just get high and watch Squidbillies. And welcome to the Variety Playhouse.

Just beyond the burning bulbs of the marquee and the ticket office, the Variety Playhouse Theater’s lobby glows with a golden sheen. T-shirts, CDs, vinyl, and other merchandise sit on a table to the left; cheap and expensive beer cohabitate directly in front. Once you enter, you may choose to sit or stand or even enjoy balcony seating. I chose to drift as close to the stage as possible for maximum impact. I’d never seen a Todd Rundgren before. What are Todds like live?

I have several of Todd’s albums, spanning from the late 60s through about 1980, roughly ten years of a 40-year career that has seen Todd topping the charts as a pop star, experimenting with different styles, challenging his fans, and producing albums for others. He doesn’t do shows for anyone’s enjoyment—only his own—mixing his deepest cuts with an occasional hit.

1974

Long, stoned grooves like “Black Maria” and “#1 Lowest Common Denominator” gave way to faithful renditions of songs like of “I Saw The Light.” Rundgren apologized and thanked the audience for tolerating the long gaps between hit songs but he still held his ground when faced with the inevitable audience request for a Utopia song.. He smiled and said, “We’ll play a Utopia song, but probably not the one you want to hear,” as he added wryly that he was from Philadelphia, Mississippi, and the selection would be Blues.

The material was mostly new to me, and while I couldn’t sing along, the rest of the audience attended to every word, every note, and every joke with a comfortable reverence. The selection seemed perfectly tailored to please, tease, and defy all varieties of fans, from the passing admirers of his radio-friendly persona to the record collectors and Utopia fans. (No, he didn’t play “Couldn’t I Just Tell You,” “Open My Eyes,” “Time Heals,” or “Can We Still Be Friends.”)

One never knows which group Todd’s about to indulge, if any; he whipped out a surprising cover of Red Rider’s “Lunatic Fringe,” which seemed to perfectly complement the tone of the set. The overall performance was tight (to the point of being quite slick), with Rundgren’s vocals and guitar always riding over the top of the music, always set to impress. Todd clearly has a love for many kinds of music, whether he’s playing music for the masses to enjoy or stranger material for the select few. Fans have to be on their toes. Maybe the most devoted Todd Rundgren fans just have an affinity for someone who can write a great pop song but would rather push the envelope.

After more than four decades in the business, Todd still seems young and vibrant, full of energy, irreverent as ever, and quite content to surprise his fans rather than give them what they expect. He’s an interesting combination of pop-friendly and confoundingly experimental. The dichotomy between the two is not unlike that between Atlanta and its rural counterpart. Except for the rednecks and shotguns.

Additional Resources:

For more on Todd Rundgren, visit his website, which he maintains himself.