RALLY REVIEW : Politics Takes a Back Seat at Times

While the crowd filtered slowly into the Pacific Amphitheatre Thursday for Bill Clinton’s big get-out-the-vote rally, Peter Gabriel’s “So” album played over the PA.

Choosing smart-guy rock music such as Gabriel’s was one way of delineating the difference between Clinton--who wants to be hip but not too hip--and President Bush, who typically surrounds himself with country types at his rallies (country music, with its tales of fightin’, cheatin’ and drinkin’, being somehow more closely allied with the Republican message of family values).

However, playing “So” led to one surreal moment at the rally: the title phrase of the techno-dirge “We Do What We’re Told” was repeated ad nauseum while thousands of people dutifully waved their signs and pompons.

At the merchandise booths, meanwhile, you could buy a black rock-star style T-shirt depicting Clinton wailing on his sax, with the message that he is a “cure for the blues.”

I went to the rally on my own time (infer from that what you will, media haters) but it occurred to me as I sat on the grass that, for an event that was as much about entertainment as it was about politics, a review might be in order.

So, about Bruce Hornsby: Bruce is in that sincere mode that seems warmed over from ‘70s Democratic rallies. His serious and thoughtful songs are pleasant enough, with their jazz-influenced piano lines. But let’s face it--he’s not exactly John Philip Sousa on the politically rousing scale.

It’s wine spritzer music, and organizers did well to put him early on the bill, when there wasn’t much momentum to kill and he could serve as a welcome break from the first (long) round of political speeches. He did three songs, finishing with his big hit, “That’s Just the Way It Is.”

Paula Poundstone was a much more bracing presence, an unabashed Clinton supporter who nonetheless managed to deflate some of the requisite pomp and circumstance of a political rally. Turning to the assembled party VIPs seated behind her in risers on stage, she commented that they would be looking at Clinton’s backside during his speech--and therefore were much luckier than the VIPs at a Bush rally.

She wondered aloud about the one Ross Perot supporter she saw outside the rally, holding a sign out his truck window: “Are we supposed to see one idiot in a truck and suddenly say, ‘whoa, wait a minute, maybe I’ve been a little hasty about this?’ ”

Poundstone has a tendency to ramble, but when she clicks (which is more often than not) it works, and on this occasion her stream-of-consciousness meanders were a welcome tonic to much of the evening’s over-produced feel.

Linda Ronstadt showed up too, in her mariachi mode, backed by excellent musicians (one of the two best mariachi bands in the world, she said, as if there is an Associated Press Poll for such things). She turned in a lively if overlong set of six songs. Her dress was very sparkly.

Some of the evening’s best entertainment was up on the lawn. There was a small knot of Bush supporters, a couple dozen maybe, and every time they held up the signs they had smuggled into the amphitheater, a group of Clinton supporters would stand in front of them. Then the Bush people would move a little and try again. This highly amusing game of one-upmanship lasted through pretty much the whole three-hour rally.

On the stage, meanwhile, senatorial candidates Dianne Feinstein and Barbara Boxer gave delightfully brief speeches before giving way to Whoopi Goldberg, who introduced the Sister Act choir from her recent hit movie.

Goldberg and her singers were well into a rousing rendition of “Shout” when Clinton strode onto the stage. It must have been the only time in history that a major party presidential candidate has appeared in public with a group of people dressed as nuns.

Clinton danced a little and looked a bit embarrassed when Goldberg chided him into singing a couple of “shout” refrains. When his speech was over and “God Bless America” was played, he could be heard singing a couple of choruses.

He never did play his saxophone, though.