How do you know you have bona fide crossover appeal? In the curious case of homegrown hero Aaron Lewis, one need only take a peek down the hallway of one of his pre-show meet and greets.
During a Feb. 16 Mohegan Sun engagement, a representative from a country radio station ushered dozens of his lucky listeners to the bowels of the arena and lined them up on the left side of the hallway to await the cue from Lewis’ management to come in and press the flesh with the man of the evening. A rock jock did the same, escorting his contingent hallway-right.
As the doors opened, small groups from both parties were led in side by side. And much like the musical career of the man they were going to meet, the integration of rock and country fans was seamless.
Further evidence of just how high Lewis’ star has risen in recent months could be found in the Mohegan Sun arena itself. It’s no small feat for a lone singer/guitarist even to get his name on the marquee of a room normally reserved for the likes of Aerosmith, Tim McGraw and Blink 182.
In addition to witnessing Lewis solo all the way back to the salad days at Breakers, the Crawler has now seen the Staind frontman at Mohegan Sun several times. It started in—and quickly outgrew—the venue’s smaller Cabaret room. While previous Arena shows were always well attended, partitions and other facades were often put in place to mask empty pockets of seats.
When I scanned the audience from the floor straight up to the skyboxes that Thursday evening, it was clear such measures are no longer necessary. In turn, the packed house—perhaps coupled with the confidence that comes from reaching the upper echelons of success in two genres now—seems to have freed Lewis of preconceived expectations or game plans for the evening.
Previous installments often played like Staind Unplugged sessions, but Lewis now barely scratches the surface of his extensive rock catalogue. Quite simply, he is a world-class artist who, despite years of guttural screaming and chain smoking, has never been in finer voice. So he plays whatever he feels like playing, or at least what he thinks his audience might like to hear.
This particular evening, the set list included everything from turns to alt-rock staples like Pearl Jam’s “Black” and Alice In Chains’ “Rooster” to songs by Avril Lavigne, Don McClean, The Eagles and Skid Row. Regardless of his choice of subject matter or genre, Lewis is going to take you places never before imagined with each. He may use the tenderness of his reedy baritone to fill your eyes, or his powerhouse howl to bring you to your feet.
In between, he’s become more playful than ever, smiling and interacting with audience members, even lacing in jokes like “Bob Dylan singing Freebird” without ever coming off as loungey.
Crawler had the added pleasure of sitting next to Lewis’ beloved “Auntie Jeanna” this evening. Her vintage Staind jacket was a dead giveaway that she was in the band’s inner circle, and she regaled Crawler and company with tales both professional (“That guy playing with Aaron, he was a former bus driver of his,” she explained of Ben Bitterman, on pedal steel and dobro) and personal (including the time Lewis’ longtime wife Vanessa took the then-long-haired rocker home to meet the family).
During one poignant moment, Auntie Jeanna—the president of Lewis’ fan club—chronicled some of the letters she’s received from fans, including some from teenagers who are thinking of committing suicide, and some from people who say her words and voice have inspired them to move on and credit her and Aaron for saving their lives.
Almost as if on cue, a man and woman made their way up to the front of the arena while Lewis tackled Staind’s lilting ballad “Tangled Up In You” when she finished speaking. The man proceeded to drop to one knee and propose—whereupon the crowd broke into rousing applause and Lewis stopped the tune to say, “Congratulations, man.”
Just another day in the life.
Send correspondence to Nightcrawler, P.O. Box 427, Somers, CT 06071; fax to (860) 394-4262 or email garycarra@aol.com.
