Kenny Loggins
with Crosby Loggins
Greek Theater, Los Angeles 
June 12, 2004
by Brian Coles
Kenny Loggins has never been cool.
If not cool, the singer/guitarist was certainly hot with radio and record stores for a generation. With over a dozen Gold and Platinum albums between his Loggins & Messina and solo efforts, Loggins heated up the charts for the better part of the '70s, '80s and even the '90s, thanks to a slew of mass appeal hit singles, and later on, his built-in fan base.
Despite this glaring success, diehard rock critics often handed in lukewarm reviews, dismissing the often obvious, middle-of-the-road arrangements and perhaps resenting his success. Still, Loggins's feel-good and often sensitive music appealed to the not-so-angst-ridden side of suburbia. Housewives, families and anyone longing for a diversion without the perversion was in good hands with albums like Celebrate Me Home and High Adventure. Later on, children were fully embraced with an entire album, 1994's Return to Pooh Corner, recalling and furthering the spirit of the early '70s mega-hit "House At Pooh Corner," resounding thanks to Disney's investment in the iconic children's character Winnie the Pooh. A fat, orange bear without a mean bone in his body was hardly the kind of thing street level rock bands would embrace, and, truth be told, Loggins was the furthest thing from street. He was often childlike and innocent in his approach, even when he "rocked." Bouncy tracks like "Footloose" were wide-eyed and giddy, even getting moms and dads, and in some cases, grandparents on the dance floor. But raised fists poking out of jean jackets were a rare sight.
Not surprisingly, the majority of the crowd at the Greek Theater was nestled in their late 30s, 40s and even 50s, made up of mostly male/female couples. If one were to divide the demographics on sex, the majority had to be women. Only a handful of non-white attendees were spotted. Perhaps it is a bit daunting to force white-bread rock down the throats of Compton and Harlem.
Keeping the family theme in place, whether purposefully or incidentally, Loggins's son, Crosby, appearing to be in his early 20s, treated the audience to a dose of nepotism, performing a handful of songs not-too distant from the feel of Loggins & Messina, mostly earthy and acoustic. He referred to his band as "friends" and admitted to no label deal but simply appeared to be in it for the thrill, taking pictures of the audience to capture what may be a onetime shot at fame, even if it is only for 15 minutes. Or in this case, 20 minutes. The set was greeted with polite and possibly inspired applause depending on whom you ask. Not a bad way to start the evening, warm fuzzies in full force.
Perhaps acknowledging that middle age permeated the onlookers, the front man readily admitted "The One That Got Away" from his new studio album, It's About Time, was inspired by divorce, a battle he suffered not once but twice. Something for mature hearts to chew on. However, he did not hang heads with the acknowledgement, but simply planted a seed of perspective in the performance with a sighing "oh well, life goes on" temperament.
Not all 'tween song chatter was somber, for most of it was intended as a warm prodding to keep the good vibes in place. At one moment he said he was on tour so his son could have a gig. This brought a burst of laughter.
Even though heartfelt material dotted the setlist, entertainment was the highest priority. Loggins never executed a moment without smiling or engrossing himself in the moment. Even such innocent though "surfacey" fare as the Loggins & Messina staple "Your Mama Don't Dance" (actually covered by hard rockers Poison in the late '80s) instilled toe tapping all around. The band, like its leader, was amiable and committed, even during the trite though necessary double encore featuring mega soundtrack hits "Danger Zone" (Top Gun) and "Footloose," (Footloose) and closing with the ballad "Forever."
Of note, Loggins has maintained his trademark cropped beard (though significantly grayed), a symbol of his stayed course, rarely diverting from his tried and true formula. This clearly still engages his core audience who exited with an approving buzz, seeking out their SUV's and Ford Tauruses. While it isn't likely he'll ever be called "cool," Loggins and his insistent fans prove he will "Keep The Fire" for a long time to come.
