Barry Manilow at the Westgate in Las Vegas: How did I end up here?

It's A Miracle

I'm going to let you in on a few secrets.

First off: In 1978, I purchased the vinyl album of Barry Manilow’s Greatest Hits. You're probably thinking that I kept it handy for when I had a girl over to my apartment and was trying to set the mood. WRONG!! There were no girls. There was no mood!

At age twenty-five I was trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life—something that’s still going on. I thought I might want to be a disc jockey so I taped pretend one-hour shows. I figured Barry’s music might figure into that career so I spent five or so bucks to get the double album.

I’ve never told that story to anyone until now. Now that I’ve self-deprecatingly embarrassed myself we can move on to:

Secret number two: Every woman I’ve been involved with for more than a couple of weeks LOVES BARRY MANILOW!! And yet they’ve never been able to get me to attend one of his shows—NEVER!!

If you’ve read this column over the last decade-plus or actually know me, it doesn't take long to figure out that my musical tastes are on the far, far, FAR other side of the musical spectrum from Barry Manilow. Did I say far enough times?

But, as I was planning the trip to Las Vegas, I realized I had one night with nothing planned. One hundred percent free!! I saw that Barry was doing a concert as part of his residency at the Westgate. And the distance between there and my hotel was less than a mile. I could walk there—I didn't, but I could have. And the price of the ticket was eighty dollars —with no fees!!

So guess what, kids—I spent ninety minutes hanging out with Barry Manilow last Thursday night. And it was my choice!! No one asked me to go with them. No one promised me anything if I went with them. It was all on me. I am one hundred percent responsible for what I'm about to tell you.

The theater holds around three thousand people. About twenty-nine hundred of them were Fanilows—a word I had no idea existed —big, big fans. They all had these blue lights that they swayed across the ceiling. A lot of them were standing as they were doing this. So yeah, there were a lot of people excited for the show.

And then eighty-one-year-old Barry comes out and he looks damn good for that age. And he starts singing hit after hit after hit. Man, the dude has a lot of them. His voice seemed to be off-key for the first couple of songs, but as he warned up it got better and stronger. There was no issue with hitting the high notes—he got to them all.

In between the songs, there was a lot of bantering with the audience. Sure, it was the same schtick he does night after night after night, but he made it seem fresh and new—although I do wonder if the Fanilows would say that.

He also has a great band. They are top-notch musicians that you can picture playing great big-band jazz. There were a few times where I zoned out Barry and watched these guys jam.

Here’s a big plus, during the week his shows begin at seven pm. They run ninety minutes so you're out of there before nine o'clock. I told my siblings that’s because Barry, at his age, can do this and still be in bed by ten.

Let’s cut to the chase:

If you are a fan of Barry Manilow, you had a great time. You more than got your money’s worth. I confirmed this with a few people after the show. The woman who sat next had seen him ten times and said she’d be coming back for more. I didn't think it was a good idea to ask her what she thought when she saw me laughing a couple of times.

I can admit that I had a good time. It was fun hearing the hits and listening to his stories. It was fun watching his fans get into the music. Am I going back again—NO— but I knew what I getting into and that's what I got. Sometimes you can't get more than that—which isn't a bad thing. Hmmm—I wonder where that Greatest Hits album went.