Contrary to the song, Steve Miller does not want to fly like an eagle to the sea.
Not if he is airborne due to a tornado or hurricane. Isn’t it strange how climate change is no longer the urgent talking point it should be? In the 2025 Apocalypse Rankings, AI, thermonuclear war, Tariff Man, killer robots and Khloé Kardashian’s Photoshop confessionals have jumped ahead.
But now climate change has come for classic rock.
Mr. Miller cancelled all upcoming tour dates this year — and maybe forever.
As he explained this week: “The combination of extreme heat, unpredictable flooding, tornadoes, hurricanes and massive forest fires make these risks for you our audience, the band and the crew unacceptable. So … You can blame it on the weather … The tour is cancelled. Don’t know where, don’t know when … We hope to see you all again.”
I think that’s a reference to Vera Lynn. Or it could be “Fraggle Rock.”
Neil Young once had to postpone a European tour after slicing his finger while making a ham sandwich. Kings of Leon had to abort a show in Missouri after pigeons, who clearly did not enjoy the riffs, started defecating on the terrified band. Earlier this year, Bryan Adams called off a Perth show due to a “large blockage of fat, grease and rags” in the sewer system. Rags?
I’ve heard of outdoor concerts getting postponed due to rain or heavy winds. But I’ve never heard of an entire tour getting scrubbed proactively over fears of extreme weather. This is a positive development.
A glance at the aborted Steve Miller Band tour schedule reveals many indoor venues, including casino stages. But the only tsunami inside a casino comes from the tears of gamblers who lost their retirement savings at the Blackjack table.
It’s not as if Miller was getting ready to play “Abracadabra” on the polar ice caps. There were no plans to ship mics and amps this fall to amphitheatres across typhoon alley.
No disrespect to Mr. Miller — if “The Joker” plays in a bar, I will happily sing along — but he can’t single-handedly move the needle on climate awareness, mostly because his diehard fans already know when it’s going to rain based on their morning joint pain.
What Miller can do is encourage younger musicians to get serious about the environment before all concerts are played in underground bunkers and the roadies are wearing inflatable life vests just in case.
Imagine if Taylor Swift cancelled all future concerts until the world addressed climate change. Every government would have a panic attack after calculating the losses to local GDP. Beyoncé could be a game-changer on greenhouse gases. That is, after police find the scoundrel who stole her unreleased music out of a choreographer’s rental car this week.
How do you even fence the sequel to “Cowboy Carter”?
Bad Bunny could help real bunnies by taking a stand against deforestation. Lady Gaga could take an active interest in cleaning up the oceans. Drake could trade his private jet for a hang glider and fly over to Kendrick’s house where the two could plan to reduce their carbon footprints by laying off any future rap beefs.
A minor inconvenient truth: a rap beef is like crypto. It guzzles resources.
It’s time for showbiz to remember climate change. Those anti-oil lunatics throwing tomato soup on famous paintings are not helping. But Coldplay could do something about global warming. Elton John’s Farewell Yellow Brick Road tour grossed over $900 million. A fraction of that could fund R&D into dealing with microplastics and forever chemicals.
Sir Elton, you don’t need another sequined blazer.
A cynic might say Steve Miller canned his tour due to soft ticket sales. But cynicism is how we got into this climate mess. So a doff of my chapeau to any artist who keeps the environment high up in the Armageddon Rankings.
Nothing matters if there is no safe place to live.
OK, some housekeeping. Not one, but two mea culpas!
In a column last weekend about Hugh Grant falling asleep at Wimbledon, I quipped the actor, 64, was one year away from a senior discount at Shoppers Drug Mart. But a number of readers pointed out the senior age at Shoppers is 55. This is me shrugging. If you want to snag a discount, maybe just rent a walker, put on a grey wig and wear a Steve Miller T-shirt.
And in a column this week, I wrote that Donald Trump’s handling of the Epstein Files was “like watching a circus clown stomp his trainer.” Readers contacted Donovan Vincent, the Star’s public editor, to point out I must have meant “circus elephant” since circus clowns do not stomp trainers.
Those readers were right. Apologies to the clowns, elephants and anyone over 55 who paid full price for Q-Tips.
I stand and sleep corrected.
