No. 225 – Showdown

Performer: Electric Light Orchestra

Songwriters: Jeff Lynne

Original Release: single, On the Third Day

Year: 1973

Definitive Version: Live at Wembley ’78, 1998. I remember watching a movie of this concert sometime in 1979 or 1980 on Night Flight, and it was pretty cool. What I didn’t know at the time was that this show sparked controversy about whether ELO actually played or just mimed to backing tracks. (For any kids in the audience, it actually used to matter that musical acts performed their music live on stage.)

MTV didn’t help matters any. Early on, it showed several songs from this show as videos, and for reasons that weren’t clear, the live music had been dubbed with the studio version on at least one song—Turn to Stone. I knew this, because the live version had an abrupt ending, whereas the video had the fade from New World Record.

But for anyone who would doubt whether ELO was playing live during their concert, all you have to do is listen to this version of Showdown. Aside from the fact that Jeff Lynne completely blows off THE ENTIRE SECOND VERSE of the song, the guitar solo in the middle and the ending of the song are completely different from the studio version—and way better.

Was ELO using backing tracks to enhance the sound, an all-too-common effect today? (Even Rush does it, sadly.) I don’t know, but there’s no doubt in my mind that ELO played live that night in Wembley.

Ah, ELO. Laurie and I saw Tributosaurus become ELO a few weeks ago, and it wasn’t one of their better performances for whatever reason. (And there was no question about whether THEY were playing live.) But I kept having flashbacks even though I did nothing stronger than El Corazon reposado.

I got into ELO on my own, but there’s no doubt my love of ELO—until they drove off the edge of wuss cliff with Disco-very (hyphenation intentional)—was fostered by my deep friendship with Marty. Unfortunately, just like my relationship with ELO came to an end at the end of the Seventies, so did my friendship with Marty soon after.

I’m sure I mentioned this, but Marty and I were best friends from 1974 to 1979—inseparable, really, during most of that time—but it was clear that at the end of the decade, we were moving in different directions. When we went to high school, we started hanging out with different people—Marty with the burnouts and me with the preps. We were OK for about a year even though we didn’t see much of each other, but then it turned sour at the start of junior year.

The final straw came about because of a debt. I can’t remember the amount owed, but $60 stands out in my mind. I seem to recall that either we bet on something or we went shopping and Marty couldn’t afford what he wanted to buy, so I lent him the money. Regardless, it ended up with me holding on to his Star Wars sketchbook—a collection of Star Wars drawings in detailed pencil—as collateral.

I continued to hold on to it as days turned to weeks and then months. I wasn’t interested in the book; I just wanted the money Marty owed me. But he never came up with it. He paid me back a bit but not all and started asking about the book. To me, it was clear cut: You told me to hold onto this book until you paid me back, so that’s what I’ll do.

It got so I once was accosted in the school cafeteria—not by him, but by one of his friends sitting at his table. He asked when I was going to give Marty back his book. I was pretty miffed, so like the immature lad I was, I said to the friend, “You tell Marty he’ll get the book back, when he’s paid off his debt.”

Eventually, Marty paid off the rest of what he owed, and I promptly returned the book, but the friendship was over. We didn’t speak to each other for more than a year after that, and the only reason we even did then was he came into Food World one time when I was working there.

I lost track of Marty after that. Scott told me he saw Marty years later when Scott was in junior high, but we didn’t connect, and the trail went cold. It happens.

In retrospect, I suppose the ending of our friendship was inevitable, but if we were to meet today, I still would apologize to him for putting money ahead of our friendship. I would hope bygones would be bygones, and we’d joke about how idiotic we used to get acting out our little stories in his basement.

And I would tell him that it’s impossible for me to hear ELO now and not think of my best friend during a dark period in my life—my parent’s divorce, puberty, junior high—when I really needed one. Thanks, Marty, wherever you are.