You may be right—I may be crazy

In the world of the autograph collector, there are moments when everything falls apart. You get there five minutes too late, you leave five minutes too soon, Dan Aykroyd decides he has reached the point in his life when he can stop being nice to people...any number of catastrophes can ruin a day.

But then there are the moments when everything falls into place, when you unearth information that other collectors either don't see or don't care about, and when you're one-on-one with someone you admire.

Such a moment happened last Thursday at Maxwell's in Hoboken, New Jersey. See, a day before, I had opened the Village Voice to see that the Maxwell's ad listed Alexa Joel as opening the show on Thursday. Using my vast knowledge of most things Billy Joel, I knew that was the name of Billy Joel's daughter, and, really, how many Alexa Joels could there be in the world? After some Web searching, I found out that his daughter was indeed pursuing a music career, though the only music-related mention was that she had to cancel what would've been her first gig earlier this summer.

So, I thought, was this going to be her first show? And if indeed it was, wouldn't you think her dad would show up to something like that? And if he did, shouldn't I make the effort to get an autograph? And if I made the effort, would that be something a normal 29-year-old would do?

It was then I stopped asking questions, because I didn't like where this was headed. But I was headed to Maxwell's with my Billy Joel LP (the Live in Russia one, or something like Kohuept, but with those Cyrillic characters in it).

***

Before I go further, I realize that previous comments on this blog might make you think that I don't really like Billy Joel. Not so. True, when you go to an all-boys Catholic high school, he starts to wear on you by senior year, but there's no denying that long before that year arrived, I had worn out my cassette of his Greatest Hits, Volumes I and II, sat rapt in front of the TV when the video for "A Matter of Trust" came on, and once rather embarrassingly sang "Piano Man" in the family living room while my sister and mother watched. Billy Joel was probably one of the first people I really got into when I started getting into music, and for that, he should be commended. By me, at least. You do what you want. But his string of hits, like them or not, is pretty impressive. I'll even grant that there are a few clunkers here and there, but, c'mon, "Goodnight Saigon"? "Angry Young Man"? "Scenes from an Italian Restaurant"? "Only the Good Die Young"? "The Longest Time"? "Pressure"? Should I stop? Yes? Fair enough.

Point is, I like Billy Joel. Deal with it.

***

I got to Maxwell's a little late, but Alexa hadn't hit the stage yet. She was talking to a few friends when I got there (and, yes, I know what she looks like, only because she looks like Billy Joel, which is almost a tragedy when you consider her mom is Christie Brinkley), and there were a dozen or so other people in the room, most of whom didn't seem like they cared if Billy Joel showed up. I scanned the room, looking for signs of Billy, but all I saw was the Maxwell's booker looking a little more fidgety than usual. And people going in and out the fire exit door. Hmmmm...

I moved up closer when the show started, just to the left of an older guy who, as he was taking lots of pictures, seemed to be aware of who Alexa Joel was. I like to think of him as The Future. I shook off the shakes that gave me and focused on the music, which, though not my thing, was pretty good, especially for a first show. She seemed pretty confident and though the songs weren't anything spectacular, they were good enough to justify seeing her even if she wasn't Billy Joel's daughter. Was that a compliment? I'm not sure.

Anyway, about a half-hour into the set, I see this guy approaching two of Alexa's friends who were a few feet away from me. All I could make out is that he had a hooded sweatshirt pulled waaay tight over his head and that he looked vaguely menacing. He tapped one of the girls on the shoulder and then quickly walked away, leading me to think, "Who let the homeless guy in?" And then I realized that the "homeless guy" was Billy Joel. Sweet disguise.

Because I was getting a little bored with the show, I moved to the back of the room to see how that perspective was. Then I was blocked, perhaps unintentionally, from going to my bag, which I had left in the back, by what I assumed was one of Billy's buddies in charge of shielding him from the great unwashed. But he eventually stepped aside, and as I put my camera in my bag, I realized that there was essentially a circle of beefy Long Island-looking guys surrounding The Hooded Piano Man. It was at this point that I wondered if it could be any more obvious that that was Billy Joel in the Harley Davidson hooded sweatshirt. Perhaps if the hood read, "This hood covers the head of rock star Billy Joel. Please do not touch him."

***

After the show ended, I stepped outside, since I'd lost sight of Billy inside and figured he'd have to head back to whatever idling vehicle that he was in before the show started. As soon as I stepped outside, I noticed The Hooded Piano Man smoking with the guy who was hesitant to let me get to my bag. As politely as I could, I approached the man who provided the soundtrack to ages 10-15.

"Excuse me, Mr. Joel?"

The hood turned around.

"Would you mind just signing an album for me?"

He gave me a little "OK" shrug, so I got the album from my bag. That's when this buddy chimed in, in as snotty a voice as he could muster.

"Oh, look what you just happened to bring."

"Yeah, well, I figured he might be here. I'm not selling it or anything."

"OK. Well, just don't run in there and tell everybody."

Right, because that was my plan. I was just about to run into Maxwell's, screaming, "Hey, Hoboken! Billy Joel's outside incognito, smoking a cigarette. Swarm him!"

Anyway, Billy signed the album, and all was right with the world. I told him he should be proud of his daughter (it never hurts to be a kiss-ass in these situations) and that she sounded good, especially for her first show. After saying she was good, he asked me, "Was she?" which I figured was a trap, but I didn't fall for it. And after asking me how I heard about the show, and Billy telling his buddy that he needed to get a copy of the Voice with the ad in it, I thanked him and headed home, happy and satisfied. Really. I was.

It don't take much.