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Eager anticipation turned into bitter disappointment early as Steely Dan played its final Beacon Theater (NY) concert last night (June 13th 2007). Opening tunes can’t be counted upon for greatness, as the band warms up and the mixer dials in the sound, but unfortunately, last night’s thin, sizzly, musically disjointed opener set the stage for an evening of thudding, overblown drumming, and an excruciatingly thin, sizzly, sibilant vocal mix on Donald Fagen’s clearly fatigued voice.

Obviously, drummer Keith Carlock is a talented and energetic drummer, but his playing last night had very little to do with Steely Dan’s slinky, insinuating sound, and much more to do with a Heavy Metal concert.

The drummer slammed and banged every beat at full power, grossly overplaying his part and helping to turn the Dan’s normally sly soufflé into mechanical sludge. An overaggressive drum mix only added to the sabotage.

The thudding kick drum and exploding snare set a rigid rhythmic thrust that stymied the rest of the band from exploring the Dan’s more interesting rhythmic nooks and crannies.

The plodding rhythms prevented the excellent horn quartet (Jim Pugh, trombone, Michael Leonhart, trumpet, Roger Rosenberg, baritone sax, Wait Weiskopf, sax) from catching fire as a group and it inhibited their individual solo turns. Even the backup chicks, Cindy Mizelle and Carolyn Leonhart-Escoffery seemed tamped down and unable to add their usual vivaciousness.

“Haitian Divorce,” for instance should have a tropical, reggae-like feel. It played out more like a Guns ‘n’ Roses track: thud, thud, thud and mud. Carlock has played with Steely Dan on tour for years. He’s played on their recent albums and on Fagen’s Morph The Cat yet listening last night, it sounded as if he hadn’t a clue as to what the band’s music was about. It’s easy to blame him but part of the blame must go to the duo of Becker/Fagen who allowed him to pound away, or who encouraged it fearing a more deft approach might bore the fans(????).

As the concert wore on (and it was wearing), it was obvious that the audience was not getting a rise. People sat on their hands. There was no head bobbing, body shaking or much of a reaction at all to the pile driver rhythms. The jazz was sucked dry from the room.

Fagen’s voice, obviously thin and fatigued from the long tour needed midband fill. Instead, the mixer actually thinned it out, adding long, jagged, electronically processed icicles to his sibilants that only served to emphasize the singer’s weakened state while giving the audience a dose of the same fatigue. It was painful and with each anticipated sibilant one had to stiffen up to take the punishment. Listening to Fagen was, in a word, excruciating. Yet he’s the guy we came to hear.

Walter Becker was in fine form on guitar but he’s basically lost his voice and was forced down a few octaves when he sang his one solo vocal turn. His intro rap to “Hey Nineteen” was hilarious.

The show’s highlight was a guest appearance by the great Phoebe Snow, who was in fine, full voice on “(I’m a Fool to do Your) Dirty Work” from the band’s first album, Can’t Buy a Thrill. That brought the band and Fagen up for a few minutes but it was soon back to the dismal plodding norm.

By the time all of the Ticketmaster fees were tacked on to the already high ticket price, we paid almost $400 for a concert that unfortunately did not buy us a single thrill.