Classic Rock Leans Down, Powers Up: REO Speedwagon & Train Tease Summer Tour At Whiskey Show

PhotoCreditBenZucker
 Kevin Cronin (L) of REO Speedwagon and Pat Monahan of Train address the crowd at the Whisky A Go Go in Hollywood, California, on Feb. 1, 2023. (Photo by Ben Zucker)

REO Speedwagon/Train Tour Teaser
Whiskey a Go Go
Hollywood, California
Feb. 1, 2024

Once upon a time, rock ’n’ roll ran on rage and raging hormones, blaring guitars and hooks that throttled. REO Speedwagon, ubiquitous as the ’70s turned into the ’80s, had that seething undercarriage of fighting against the system and faithless women; Train, inescapable as the 21st century came of age, were a more cosmic tangle of (dis)engagement. 

At the infamous Whiskey A Go Go Thursday night, it was eras colliding for a tour tease that rolls across the U.S. this summer. As much an exploration on evolution as it was an opportunity to measure the pleasure of stripped down rock played lean, it was a fascinating way to consider what those high school/coming of age bands can mean decades or even a half century later.


Taking the stage in a basic T-shirt, black jeans and sneakers, REO frontman Kevin Cronin marveled, saying that the band who’s sold 40 million albums — including the 10 million certified Hi Infidelity – hadn’t been on that stage since 1973. Clearly in the feels, he told stories of moments, how songs came to be and expressed genuine joy at seeing his generation inside the storied walls of the iconic rock club.

Having eschewed the more straightforward ballast of the frenetic late set rave “Riding The Storm Out” for a sleeker, ballad-driven, power-pop/rock sound that found some of its bite from its lyrics, the material has aged well. Settling into the elder statesmen reality as realists, REO Speedwagon is having fun with songs that defined multiple generations’ coming of age, while never falling prey to “Spinal Tap” overselling.

Explaining the stripped down model meant no piano, Cronin talked of meeting Steve Jones – “of the Sex Pistols” across the street at the Viper Room – and being asked to play “I’ll Keep On Loving You.” Not knowing how to play it on guitar, Jones taught him in an unthinkable world’s collide moment.  Even the guitar scourge of the Pistols needed to hear that tune. 

“Keep On” was delivered with sweeping rhythms, triple harmonies intact. Like a primordial chord, the crowd howled and picked up the songs. More than catharsis, it was a transport to younger, better and wilder.

And that’s the thing: in 50 minutes, REO Speedwagon postured (refusing to change a word in “Tough Guys” for an MTV concert telecast from Denver’s McNichol Arena, Cronin told Coke to “F off”), performed (“Take It On The Run” was plangent, “Time For Me To Fly” broke down to a minimal core for its ending) and perfected the dignity of owning who you are as you are where you are. It’s a look that suits them well.

Train, who followed, remains a certain kind of sexual catnip for a world where touchstones and creamy awareness created a new kind of hot guy. Pat Monahan offers all the little details that made “Calling All Angels,” “Meet Virginia” and even the tsunami smash “Soul Sister” as much a mirror into who we were as laundry lists of the objects of our times hung on emotional clotheslines.

Time has tempered some of the metaphysical exhaling, but the slithering rock and pop references remain. Perhaps originally deployed to show the dudes they knew their music, Steve Miller’s “The Joker” interlocutors into “Meet Virginia,” while “Everything” is masterfully cut with Led Zeppelin’s “Going To California.” Looser, more prone to “in on the joke” commentary, Monahan displayed the same charm engagement strategy as Cronin – only less inclined to delve into the music’s roots or journey. That said, the face that launched a million “boyfriend” notions transports vocally, and that may be just as important.

With a muscular band that leans in, Train takes their hits to a music-forward space instead of merely luxuriating in people knowing the words. To partner with REO Speedwagon, whose pop hits aren’t indicative of their rock core, it allows the “Drops of Jupiter” creators to meet-and-match their tourmates for what delivers more than nostalgia, but a night of songs that defined lives in a way that honors the past, but exists in a thoroughly aware present.