In a more reasonable world, no one would ever have to closet their love of Hall & Oates. There was a period in the ’90s through the early 2000s when perceptions of the Philly hit machine swung from critical infallibility to purveyors of the blandest of the bland once time’s oppressive grip began to take hold. For years, the biggestselling pop duo ever was consigned to AC radio hell, image memes with John Oates’ glorious ’stache as the centerpiece and ironic dorm-room dance parties. At best, they were a guilty pleasure. But like animal prints, teased bangs and the word “rad,” they eventually became cool again.
For Hall & Oates, it was only a matter of time.
Their sold-out show on Dec. 7 at the Durham Performing Arts Center was epitomized by two late-twentysomething dudes in front of me making no intent to conceal their man-crushes before the well-coiffed duo ever took the stage. The diminutive Oates — who has replaced his iconic mustache with a more practical soul patch — arrived seconds after their crack six-piece backing band, followed by the irrepressibly hip Hall as the spastic fanboys danced like unapologetic fools to the bouncy rhythm of opener “Maneater.”
But who could blame them? Most only get to hear songs like “How Does It Feel to Be Back” and “Say It Isn’t So” via bad karaoke and as sonically regimented as a Hall & Oates hit can be, their music still strikes a pressure point that can send one into an uncontrollable geek-out. You find that the still-immaculate voice of Daryl Hall is bouncing around in your head days later, singing “Pri-vey-uht Eyes, they’re waahhhtchin’ yoooo….” It’s pop at its most pleasing, and the audience was thankful for every note.
If only Hall & Oates had given any inclination that they felt the same. Tickets to this engagement weren’t exactly cheap, yet the dreadfully compact set list indicated a group that’s simply not into touring right now, but is doing it anyway. They watered down a 13-song show — nine, two and two — with an opening set by solo Philly folkpop artist Mutlu, whose acoustic cover of Bob Marley’s “Is this Love” felt more at home tucked between the merch kiosk and condiment station at a Starbucks than a venue once graced by Leonard Cohen and Neil Young. Even ther set list itself felt constructed to provide as little resistance as possible from Point A to Point B, with Hall never again jostling between guitar and keys once he made the switch.
People wanted the Hall & Oates celebrated on the cover of their awesome 2009 box set Do What You Want, Be Who You Are — an illustration that perfectly captures the uninhibited enthusiasm inherent in their best music. People wanted the Hall & Oates from the video for “You Make My Dreams,” three minutes of exultant joy that can utterly absolve a bad day. What we got was a Hall & Oates that exhibited so little chemistry that they rarely came within five feet of each other. Aside from the jazz hands Hall made to accent his noteprefect melisma, he rarely showed emotion beyond quietly raging against a hapless guitar tech.
Crowd engagement was sometimes left to guitarist Paul Pesco and longtime sax player Charles DeChant, who used their solos to fill the parts of the stage that the stars otherwise neglected.
Musically speaking, hits like “Rich Girl,” “Kiss On My List” and “Sara Smile” were delivered with an artisan’s care. Yet, as Hall couldn’t help but contain the errant melodies bouncing around in his head, it was frustrating to hear pointless jams tacked onto the end of some tunes. In particular several bars of “You Make My Dreams” felt like filler, adding melody unfamiliar to the spirit of the blissfully infectious number. The song itself was one of those times where it was impossible not to join those two fools in wigging out in ecstasy, but it was hard not to feel like there should’ve been a whole lot more.
