Thursday November 29, 2012
Better Than Bob Dylan.
In all seriousness, I wondered how people were taking me, and I have found mostly positive support, and one hurting criticism that my posts were not straight forward enough reviews. I never said they were, this is just my take on where I am, and what I am doing. So, if humorous anecdotes fly past you like a bug off the windshield of a Semi, stop reading, and correcting me.
Back to life using the lessons I have learned while listening to music.
Thursday, and many of us still do not have colds. Which is a good thing, considering how close we are, living out of suitcases and a car. Again today is not the day where the phrase "what is that smell?" is not used. Burnt toast, and baked fish, I believe we voted as being the odor of the morning. Today is also go someplace else day, and the appropriate packing is done, and there is enough room for me in the back seat, I am not on the roof after all. Off we go, saying goodbye to all our friends and surroundings, seems so much like home, and maybe it is, to some. The traffic is so backed up that walking across two state lines on the rooftops of the vehicles looks to be a better way to get to Newark. Good thing I am not on the roof, although I might have made some new friends that way. We glamour up in a public restroom, because we are just those kind of people, actually we didn't want to be uncomfortable all day in our night clothes. Some may argue that dressing up is impractical, and that a comfy tshirt and jeans is the way to go, but we are not that kind of people either. So, all spiffed up we get, and off we go, to sit in traffic from the Bronx to New Jersey. 18 miles in two hours. So much for looking fresh on arrival. I was suffering an attack of being a non youthful mature female of a certain age and enjoyed the fresh cool air once we arrived, but my friends assured me that it was cold to the point of frigid, and with that certain odor that only Newark has, and once again, the game of the week is played, "what is that smell?" It thankfully wasn't me.
The New Jersey PAC is a lovely structure in more decent surroundings than I imagined, many chain restaurants and hotel/motels in the area, and rail service, making it an alternative to NYC. Lovely inside, well staffed lobby, with an oddly placed ladies room that needed to be accessed down a short hall, past a maintanance closet, and through another set of doors, but clean, once you find it. The Concert was scheduled for 7:30 PM, but the doors did not open until a few minutes after 7, keeping all the well heeled patrons milling about, dining at the in venue restaurant, and drinking at the bar, and shopping the kiosks scattered around. When they finally let us in, we admire the insides. Stunning, round balconies soaring up into the levels of "Hell no I am not sitting there" height, and the floor slanting downwards towards the stage. The stage was low, at slightly above where my waist would be if I had a waist, and if I were a bit taller. I had a front row seat, yes I did, directly 4 feet dead on the bass players microphone. There were 4 seats to my right, then an aisle, then the side sections, a very small intimate pit section, very similar in feeling to the first four rows of the Albert Hall. The Band was placed a few feet back, so this was a real Nose hair view of the evening. But I didn't mind. My internal furnace was finally cooling down, and I felt better.
The Show was fun. It is live folks, a misplucked string is not going to ruin my night, and a Band not having fun, and focusing on perfection is not fun either, and who wants to be perfect anyway? Where do you go from there? I am in search of the perfect concert, but in all truthfulness, I hope I never find it, so I can keep searching forever. And no, I am not used to perfection, and no one can speak for me.
Gemini Dream
Long time no see? No mystery verse for you and me.
The Voice
practically like on the records, but a little tired sounding.
Slide Zone
Someone is getting on his toes and reaching those high notes, and I like it
You and Me
Different every night, some nights there is a longer solo at the end, and each night there are new raunchy crunchy guitar bits, I would say "F"ng Awesome" but someone beat me to it.And I'm using the lyrics as instructions.
Tuesday Afternoon
Great reception by the audience and the band is playing it in a fun happy way, which is great considering the thousands of times it has been performed.
Gypsy
well, don't sit near me during this song if you want quiet reflection
Nervous
Wow really quite the concert performance! Also with a bit of difference every night at the end with addlibbing of very on key singing by the bass player, I was honored to be there to hear this last night.
SIWL
So what if a few notes crack? The air was very dry, but the smiling, and nose crinking and eyebrow wiggling sentiment is still there.
Peak Hour
a premature entry on one line but that can be expected of men of a certain age. And again, this is not a criticism, just a fun observation.
IKYOTS
Like some of us have springs! Which pleases the singer, and yes, he has told me this, it isnt an observation, or summation of my deciphering what each eye twitch means.
TSIYE
Its not the opera folks, it isnt illegal to have a good time
YWD
ok, so I now forgive you, and the singer looked pleased, he was dancing from foot to foot the entire song.
ILS
Too much fog machine, we in the first row disappeared for a few minutes.
There was no other side of life tonight, perhaps we have finally investigated it thoroughly? alas, I think not. The big clue was the roadie bringing out the microphone for the next song, for the Drummer's bit in the spotlight.
H&H
Not as much extra twiddly guitar bits as the night before, but the bass player did some off mic "Do do do's" if one needed to know this.
AYSC
The song was beautiful, and no one noticed any misplucked string, or the shy smile after, absolutely no one. And if someone did, the shy smile was worth the misplucking, in my opinion.
IJAS
When someone on the stage motions you to get up, should you? I think so, and one might cite health and age issues, but I noticed that people with legitimate reasons to sit were moved by the music. Now, no one is under any obligation to sit, or dance, but don't ever again try to tell me that the Band doesn't like it.
NIWS
Wow wee kazow wee How, at the end of any given show, even one with a few cracks, which is normal for us mortals, can he pull this off with such passion, and yes, it is getting very powerful, better each night.
Question
No sing along since Westbury, but don't let that stop us. The stage was so low, that I was able to hear this accoustically, not amplified, and yes, that is their real voices.
RMSS
Odd mis drumming at the beginning, and it almost completely ruined my night. NOT.
So, in summation, It was a splendid night, despite traffic, public restrooms, hot flashes, and no hotel room. We eventually did get a room, by the way, some where along our route, too long a day.
There were four gentlemen sitting to the right of me, and a word of advice, do not get baked stuffed haddock before a show, unless you think the odor of butter and garlic is an aphrodesiac. I didnt need to ask what that smell was, it was obvious. But they were very nice, actually Jethro Tull fans, and he was impressed, and actually believed me about my concert attendance, and even more so by my night at Canterbury Cathedral last December. He was suitably impressed with the flautist, couldn't keep his eyes off her. And the lady behind me loved the show, she told me she came expecting to be disappointed, but was impressed by the ned, and told me they were Better than Bob Dylan. I told her I'd let them know.
Friday, November 30, 2012
Thursday, November 29, 2012
It's a Gemini's Dream
Wednesday November 28, 2012
It's a Gemini's Dream
Welcome to the full Gemini Moon. Does this mean double our pleasure? Or that all Gemini's will have fun?
We wake up, to a chorus of ow's, ouches, and oh my goodnesses.Such is the glamorous life of famous rock babes of a famous rock band. The indulgences of the night before return the next day reminding you that despite evidence to the contrary, you are not as lithe and nimble as you think. And what is that smell? It wasn't any of us, but we have our suspicions.
Spending day and night in a confined space, no matter how luxurious, gets claustrophobic, and fresh air, errand running, napping, TV watching, all gets done together, and separately.The time in between the shows is the hardest to fill, as mapping out a route, estimating drive time, and departure time takes up a short part of the day, then we need to plan wash and dress time. We just don't appear magically at each venue you know, this takes work.
I did have one event to remark upon while I was running errands. I had need of the washroom, and found a public one to use. I carefully sounded out the letters to discern MEN from WOMEN, as these things can get confusing when one is overtired, and I wanted to be sure. So I open the door and walk inside. Well, to my surprise I saw a large human, I'm guessing, with buzz cut hair on a Juglike head, which was sitting on a thick short neck. Going down, there were broad shoulders in a suit jacket, square hips, trousers, mens police shoes. Said human was in front of a porcelain washroom item, zipping up fly. I suffered a full body blush, and promptly ran out, and sounded out all the letters again, to make sure, and yes, it clearly stated WOMEN. I counted all my body parts, and since I had passed my anatomy course, I was fairly sure I fit the description, but was unsure of what I had found in the washroom. I walked back in, as the feminoid turned to look at the stumbling mumbling one who had a need, and I don't know who was more embarrassed, but I pretended it was me, hoping to take the cowards way out, and not get hurt. It all worked out in the end. I hope I never see this poor soul again, as I will undoubtedly never again pass this way, as I didn't quite know where I was, but life has a habit of placing the same obstacles in front of you until they are overcome. I am not sure I could survive another encounter like this in the future.
And that brings us to the Capitol Theater in Port Chester NY, once again. We park the car, remembering that we are near the Peruvian chicken restaurant, and promptly pass three more walking to the theater entrance. Restaurants, not Peruvians, or chickens.
Finally, I am recognized for who I am, love me or not. How refreshing, and I make my grand entrance minutes before curtain time, and sit in a seat I found acceptable. It didnt match the numbers on my ticket, but I wasnt wearing my glasses, so I can not be held responsible for lost or stolen items. But it didn't matter too much, as I wasn't sitting all the time.
Gemini Dream
The mystery Verse was Back!
You and Me
Great guitar work at the end, improvised, with someone quite pleased with himself.
Nervous
No one noticed the extra "bring it" no, no one did,
The high notes hit by the bass player were stunning, clear, on key, and I was right there in front of the poor fellow, I should know, I heard the live voice, not the mix feed. A lady in the third row was coming down with the vapors during this song, no she wasn't one of us, and that song got her going, and from that point on she behaved like one of us the rest of the show.
Gypsy
Hello
IKYOTS
Whomever he was looking for was on the right side of the audience, as he rarely glanced to his right, our left the entire show, especially that song. Funny, we were on the right.
TSIYE
I did what I had to do. Freaky eyeball projections all over the walls and ceiling of the theater.
TOSOL
As far as I am concerned there is no other side.
We Drifted wood, not sitting comfortably, but who really cares? Gorgeous.
IJAS
There is a certain bass player still capable of doing things with his bass when the timing is right. Scorching! dadadada Whoooo
NIWS
Slightly scratchy, but I have been assured by a reliable source that he does not have a cold. There was passion, but not of the" I need a cigarette when its over" variety, not yet, optimistic.
And yes, ask a Gemini about a Dream, you might get an answer.
It's a Gemini's Dream
Welcome to the full Gemini Moon. Does this mean double our pleasure? Or that all Gemini's will have fun?
We wake up, to a chorus of ow's, ouches, and oh my goodnesses.Such is the glamorous life of famous rock babes of a famous rock band. The indulgences of the night before return the next day reminding you that despite evidence to the contrary, you are not as lithe and nimble as you think. And what is that smell? It wasn't any of us, but we have our suspicions.
Spending day and night in a confined space, no matter how luxurious, gets claustrophobic, and fresh air, errand running, napping, TV watching, all gets done together, and separately.The time in between the shows is the hardest to fill, as mapping out a route, estimating drive time, and departure time takes up a short part of the day, then we need to plan wash and dress time. We just don't appear magically at each venue you know, this takes work.
I did have one event to remark upon while I was running errands. I had need of the washroom, and found a public one to use. I carefully sounded out the letters to discern MEN from WOMEN, as these things can get confusing when one is overtired, and I wanted to be sure. So I open the door and walk inside. Well, to my surprise I saw a large human, I'm guessing, with buzz cut hair on a Juglike head, which was sitting on a thick short neck. Going down, there were broad shoulders in a suit jacket, square hips, trousers, mens police shoes. Said human was in front of a porcelain washroom item, zipping up fly. I suffered a full body blush, and promptly ran out, and sounded out all the letters again, to make sure, and yes, it clearly stated WOMEN. I counted all my body parts, and since I had passed my anatomy course, I was fairly sure I fit the description, but was unsure of what I had found in the washroom. I walked back in, as the feminoid turned to look at the stumbling mumbling one who had a need, and I don't know who was more embarrassed, but I pretended it was me, hoping to take the cowards way out, and not get hurt. It all worked out in the end. I hope I never see this poor soul again, as I will undoubtedly never again pass this way, as I didn't quite know where I was, but life has a habit of placing the same obstacles in front of you until they are overcome. I am not sure I could survive another encounter like this in the future.
And that brings us to the Capitol Theater in Port Chester NY, once again. We park the car, remembering that we are near the Peruvian chicken restaurant, and promptly pass three more walking to the theater entrance. Restaurants, not Peruvians, or chickens.
Finally, I am recognized for who I am, love me or not. How refreshing, and I make my grand entrance minutes before curtain time, and sit in a seat I found acceptable. It didnt match the numbers on my ticket, but I wasnt wearing my glasses, so I can not be held responsible for lost or stolen items. But it didn't matter too much, as I wasn't sitting all the time.
Gemini Dream
The mystery Verse was Back!
You and Me
Great guitar work at the end, improvised, with someone quite pleased with himself.
Nervous
No one noticed the extra "bring it" no, no one did,
The high notes hit by the bass player were stunning, clear, on key, and I was right there in front of the poor fellow, I should know, I heard the live voice, not the mix feed. A lady in the third row was coming down with the vapors during this song, no she wasn't one of us, and that song got her going, and from that point on she behaved like one of us the rest of the show.
Gypsy
Hello
IKYOTS
Whomever he was looking for was on the right side of the audience, as he rarely glanced to his right, our left the entire show, especially that song. Funny, we were on the right.
TSIYE
I did what I had to do. Freaky eyeball projections all over the walls and ceiling of the theater.
TOSOL
As far as I am concerned there is no other side.
We Drifted wood, not sitting comfortably, but who really cares? Gorgeous.
IJAS
There is a certain bass player still capable of doing things with his bass when the timing is right. Scorching! dadadada Whoooo
NIWS
Slightly scratchy, but I have been assured by a reliable source that he does not have a cold. There was passion, but not of the" I need a cigarette when its over" variety, not yet, optimistic.
And yes, ask a Gemini about a Dream, you might get an answer.
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Tuesday November 27, 2012
Tuesday November 27, 2012
Good Morning Grey and gloomy sky. Sloony weather today. Wear tops and bottoms, it is wet, windy with fat rain and wet sloppy snow flakes. Driving the length and breadth of the area on the interstate was very exciting, I saw a BMW in a tree. That was on my way to collecting my favorite corrupted Canadian.
Airport security is unimpressed with how important I am, and collecting Canadians gets complicated, but using the combined superior intellect of our committee, we soon figure it out, and the appropriate measures are taken, the Canadian is collected, we find someplace warm and dry to pull ourselves together.
Once again, if you want a good concert, be a good audience. The venue is located on a secondary street, in a typical Northeast city. non straight roads, shops, chain stores and restaurants, manufacturing plants and residences all jumbles together, with a surprising amount of Peruvian establishments.
The audience is again the Woodstock refugees of yesterday, who have found soap, and prosperity, but retain the spirit of the sixties, palpable as the venue filled in. It was not a sell out, and knowing that there would be empty seats; we worried about the performance. The Globe Theater is an old music hall, renovated, with folding chairs, faily plush, but not bolted to the floor, in the front. The stage is about 4ish feet up, and the Band is up front, making it very intimate in the first several rows. Any worries about a less than full house limiting audience response was soon forgotten, as we had all types there. The interpretive lyrical dancers, the wigglers, the jumping wavers, the head bopping sitters, and singalongers. I enjoyed muchly the lyrical interpretive dancers, waving their hands and hips as much as 60 plus hips and shoulders can do sinuous moves, and did miss for a few minutes Mr. Thomas' Fabulous second act song, as I used to dance along with the fat happy hippies of old, with their herbal smoky air about them, flying their astral planes. But back to the present. I drift, having a flashback. So, where was I?
The audience. Many familiar faces, of the friendly types as well. And yes I saw you, and also, sorry I missed you. And also sadly, a couple of people who do not get the message of the music, and security was needed. Sadly, they are so locked up into themselves, they probably never noticed that they were under scrutiny. Putting a slight damper on an otherwise nearly perfect show. The Band is getting better, and the voices are warmed up, all the muscles doing what muscles do.
Gemini Dream
Standard, no mystery verses tonight, well done
You and Me
Some one played so well, he amazed himself, wandered off to his right, and played a bit extra on the ending solo, well done, I know a Canadian sitting in that spot that might never be the same again, after that.
IKYOTS
Yup, like we all had springs under our bottoms, releasing at the key change. And those of us with the old days Moody Manners stayed up for TSIYE
And were up again for YWD. Yay, an audience wilder than me, at least in the first several rows, I wasnt concerned with what was behind me.
As has become the new standard, AYSC was in tonight, DW was out, and as I love both, whatever they want to play for me is ok.
H&H
You dont always know what the old fellow will say, changing day to day, nothing too shocking.
IJAS,
Wow, the best so far this tour, if I have any opinion. Like they were playing right to me.
NIWS
Getting better , passion is leaking into it, we might just get the best of the Tour soon.
RMSS
A male/ female couple took the lyrics as instructions, and did a grinding dance during the guitar solo, almost in front of him, and he grinned watching this, so did I. They were unable to be completely center, as the security issue was still ongoing, with crew positioned strategically, to prevent an altercation of the unpleasant type. Which gratefully, did not occur.
Our return to home base. We stopped being young and ageless and the taking of recreational meds. Sleep came anyway.
Good Morning Grey and gloomy sky. Sloony weather today. Wear tops and bottoms, it is wet, windy with fat rain and wet sloppy snow flakes. Driving the length and breadth of the area on the interstate was very exciting, I saw a BMW in a tree. That was on my way to collecting my favorite corrupted Canadian.
Airport security is unimpressed with how important I am, and collecting Canadians gets complicated, but using the combined superior intellect of our committee, we soon figure it out, and the appropriate measures are taken, the Canadian is collected, we find someplace warm and dry to pull ourselves together.
Once again, if you want a good concert, be a good audience. The venue is located on a secondary street, in a typical Northeast city. non straight roads, shops, chain stores and restaurants, manufacturing plants and residences all jumbles together, with a surprising amount of Peruvian establishments.
The audience is again the Woodstock refugees of yesterday, who have found soap, and prosperity, but retain the spirit of the sixties, palpable as the venue filled in. It was not a sell out, and knowing that there would be empty seats; we worried about the performance. The Globe Theater is an old music hall, renovated, with folding chairs, faily plush, but not bolted to the floor, in the front. The stage is about 4ish feet up, and the Band is up front, making it very intimate in the first several rows. Any worries about a less than full house limiting audience response was soon forgotten, as we had all types there. The interpretive lyrical dancers, the wigglers, the jumping wavers, the head bopping sitters, and singalongers. I enjoyed muchly the lyrical interpretive dancers, waving their hands and hips as much as 60 plus hips and shoulders can do sinuous moves, and did miss for a few minutes Mr. Thomas' Fabulous second act song, as I used to dance along with the fat happy hippies of old, with their herbal smoky air about them, flying their astral planes. But back to the present. I drift, having a flashback. So, where was I?
The audience. Many familiar faces, of the friendly types as well. And yes I saw you, and also, sorry I missed you. And also sadly, a couple of people who do not get the message of the music, and security was needed. Sadly, they are so locked up into themselves, they probably never noticed that they were under scrutiny. Putting a slight damper on an otherwise nearly perfect show. The Band is getting better, and the voices are warmed up, all the muscles doing what muscles do.
Gemini Dream
Standard, no mystery verses tonight, well done
You and Me
Some one played so well, he amazed himself, wandered off to his right, and played a bit extra on the ending solo, well done, I know a Canadian sitting in that spot that might never be the same again, after that.
IKYOTS
Yup, like we all had springs under our bottoms, releasing at the key change. And those of us with the old days Moody Manners stayed up for TSIYE
And were up again for YWD. Yay, an audience wilder than me, at least in the first several rows, I wasnt concerned with what was behind me.
As has become the new standard, AYSC was in tonight, DW was out, and as I love both, whatever they want to play for me is ok.
H&H
You dont always know what the old fellow will say, changing day to day, nothing too shocking.
IJAS,
Wow, the best so far this tour, if I have any opinion. Like they were playing right to me.
NIWS
Getting better , passion is leaking into it, we might just get the best of the Tour soon.
RMSS
A male/ female couple took the lyrics as instructions, and did a grinding dance during the guitar solo, almost in front of him, and he grinned watching this, so did I. They were unable to be completely center, as the security issue was still ongoing, with crew positioned strategically, to prevent an altercation of the unpleasant type. Which gratefully, did not occur.
Our return to home base. We stopped being young and ageless and the taking of recreational meds. Sleep came anyway.
Monday November 26, 2012
Another Mundane Monday
What do you do with a day off. You make plans. Sometimes months in advance, sometimes you have no plans at all. People always stop to talk to you when you are not in a socializing mood? ever notice that? Everyone wanting to know what I was up to, and asking me about my future plans, inviting me to exotic locations.
We had a suggestion of an itinerary, which was rejected. Then we ran errands, I was on a mission to look at every pair of boots in a 10 mile radius, and we also needed to find unscented non greasy hand lotion. Surprisingly easier to find the lotion than the boots. I needed boots without too many studs, and with non ugly toes and safe heels, and on sale. I found them by avoiding the obvious, and going for the safe route, and then having the right item drop into my lap. After which, we needed sustenance, and libation, as our errands wore us out. We picked the safest place we could find, as the neighborhood was dodgy at best. Surprisingly, for being home, I was the one with the funny accent. But not as bad as other patrons, who apparently had such difficulty with their order as to need it returned and the correct items delivered. I just had an ongoing and continuous offering of items I never ordered brought to my table, and as there were only 4 occupied tables scattered around the place, why this was happening, I can't explain, were we all talking a different language? We certainly weren't speaking to each other. It may have been the sinus clearing meal, or the three margaritas, but I swear, I felt better afterwards. So good in fact, that I listened to Music, and had sweet dreams. The kind that come true.
The next day, however, is another story.
Another Mundane Monday
What do you do with a day off. You make plans. Sometimes months in advance, sometimes you have no plans at all. People always stop to talk to you when you are not in a socializing mood? ever notice that? Everyone wanting to know what I was up to, and asking me about my future plans, inviting me to exotic locations.
We had a suggestion of an itinerary, which was rejected. Then we ran errands, I was on a mission to look at every pair of boots in a 10 mile radius, and we also needed to find unscented non greasy hand lotion. Surprisingly easier to find the lotion than the boots. I needed boots without too many studs, and with non ugly toes and safe heels, and on sale. I found them by avoiding the obvious, and going for the safe route, and then having the right item drop into my lap. After which, we needed sustenance, and libation, as our errands wore us out. We picked the safest place we could find, as the neighborhood was dodgy at best. Surprisingly, for being home, I was the one with the funny accent. But not as bad as other patrons, who apparently had such difficulty with their order as to need it returned and the correct items delivered. I just had an ongoing and continuous offering of items I never ordered brought to my table, and as there were only 4 occupied tables scattered around the place, why this was happening, I can't explain, were we all talking a different language? We certainly weren't speaking to each other. It may have been the sinus clearing meal, or the three margaritas, but I swear, I felt better afterwards. So good in fact, that I listened to Music, and had sweet dreams. The kind that come true.
The next day, however, is another story.
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Sunday November 25, 2012
Return to the turning of Westbury
Once more I find myself drawn to an otherwise non descript piece of property in Long Island. Why? I ask over and over again. My life is spinning out of control, things whizz past me, and I'm hearing voices, or I'm at the fourth Concert at this venue in 7 months. Anyway, here I am. We arm ourselves with the resolve needed to face the parking lot musclemen, and refuse to accept anything less than our customary space, being who we are, after all.
The same happy hippies in BMW's Mercedes and Cadillacs arrive, flashing cash, buffed nails, perfectly coiffed hair, and tailored coats. The wives also were well groomed. After my lesson learned the night before, not remembering when cleavage might be necessary, I am prepared. I can put my feet up on the stage from where I am sitting, but I won't tell you what row it is, and anyway, that would be rude to the performers, and unladylike, not to mention any unmentionables.
The person to my left asks me if I want to know the set list?
No.
Really, I have it from last night, I was here
So were several hundred others, including me, No.
I have all the songs except the ones I dont know.
I know all of them, and I did say no, didn't I?
Well she was through with me after that. I do have a way with total strangers, but I see it as their fault, no recognizing me, after all. I hope I have the look of happiness surrounding me, and a twinkle in my eye, not the unfocused glazed glare of the delusional and psychotic. Must check my eyes out in a mirror, and practice sanity. When I return back to the real world.
We are each in our own universe, pressed to gether like pages in a book, glimpsing at the worlds to our immediate sides, but not going past a certain limit. While out on the road, we are trying to get to a concert, others are trying to get home, to work, to friends and family. We pass them, some we pass may even be trying to get to the same concert as us. The spaces between our universes expand, as if the book pages were ruffled, looking for a bookmark, and then settle back in again, close, yet so far away.
The lights go down, and we are all transformed by either the well placed stage lights, or the safe darkness of the theater, and go back through time and space. The music brings us there, washing over us, pulsating and driving us to the remembered times of the past, while simultaneously enjoying the present.
How many of us did naughty things to these songs? My hand is raised, but I'm not telling what songs I did what naughty things to, or with whom, or when, that would be naughty.
The people on stage sported fabulous foot wear, and hair. How do they find the time to shop, with all the traveling and rehearsing? Talent.
Stand out songs of the night
Gemini Dream, did not have the mystery verse included. It was practically perfect, yet I long for the mystery verse.
Gypsy. Pointedly Perfect. No adjusting necessary.
You and Me again, great audience recognition
Nervous I love that song, and so do many others
IKYOTS I had fun singing a verse along with a certain blondish person, of a not too tall description
YWD again, see above.
With the revolving stage, one never knows when one will be facing someone. I siezed the moments. Because there was security preventing people from siezing anything else.
ILS great miscellaneous percussion
H&H Dancing prancing bass player with something in his eye, he kept winking and a great three measure sustain from the guitar player as the bearded one finished up his dance.
Question, again, the audience was singing along the ENTIRE song so loudly and beautifully, we were given our verse to sing back to the author
RMSS So great, one forgets to be sad that the show is over.
Dodgem cars in the lot, and a blasting drive back over the bridge, to a reality we left just a few hours ago.
Monday, November 26, 2012
Saturday November 24, 2012
Let's Drive to Long Island
Waking up in the morning. the collective chorus of "ow", "ouch" "oh my" is heard. Not even a long hot shower with luxury soaps can wash away this fatique, so I use the provided products, and hope for the best. I dress for a long car ride, and hope for more road side meals. We take the scenic route, and see New Jersey. We don't see any storm damage other than the ocassional downed tree, the same as at home, but I am not on a disaster tour of the Northeast. I am in search of a stellar concert experience.
We arrive at the proper venue hours early, despite traffic. And a trip thru the theater district of NYC. Now what? so we go for a walk. Back sitting in the car, I observe the patrons of this fine facility. Everyone drives too fast down the access road to the parking lot, and the attendants, there to assist in the proper parking of all the cars, accept folded bills of currency from some of the shiniest and most expensive cars, and these cars are placed in strategic spots, allowing for easy egress. alas, a thousand cars all trying to get out at the same time, with several jaguars and mercedes blocking the way makes it difficult for the rest of us, and the attendants were not in sight. A luxury car free for all. some one alsways win, though, and we did escape in time.
Back to sitting around observing the people. Gone were the sour faces seen in Easton, in their places were the faces of happy hippies, the survivors of Woodstock, all bathed and prosperous. And some with the tell tale limp of needing new hips and knees. Nothing wrong with that. The audience was predominately male, with many men in pairs arriving, not those kind, no, just friends. Not that there is anything wrong with that either.
Once again I sit next to someone who asks if I am a first timer? Does no one know who I am anymore?
There stood over past me a bit, a gentleman wearing a tshirt advertising an upcoming ocean voyage event. He stood, back towards one half of the audience, then turned, and did this for a few minutes, then sat down. A few rows over and down, another man in a similar shirt, coincidently advertising the same event, then stood up, posed, turned, posed again. Then they both stood up, gave each other full frontal. It was like watching two peacocks circling each other. They finally gave up and waved. Whats with this ocean voyage event that makes one puff up and pose? The man next to me informed me that is was a special VIP cruise for special people. I suppose one needs to be in the know to find these things out. I'll wait for an invitation from and Important Person, myself. If I am as VIP as I think I am, I should beinvited.
The concert was fabulous, a few more of the kinks ironed out, and muscles exercised.
If you want a good concert, my advice is to be a good audience. The concert is in the round, with a revolving stage, and as such, one gets to see thing not usually seen with a standard stage show. Like a view of 2/3 of the audience at any given time.
I truly enjoyed watching all the people singing along to "You and Me" and "Nervous" And yes, I do take my eyes off the stage to see the audience, if it wasn't for all the people buying the tickets in all the cities and towns, None of us would be there.
The sing along to "Question" was fabulous. Almost drowned out the singer, he did let the audience sing a lyric, which doesnt always happen, really looked pleased with the results. There is no "off the stage come back for an encore" thingy here, would take too much effort going up that dark ramp, so, there is some millimg about, and the count town begins. The arm waving during the last song is fun when half the audience is in front and the other half behind, and all waving in different directions.
Then the massive pile up to get out, all those bad hips and knees, all danced and sung out, trying to go up a steep ramp, and out the two exits, and into the parking lot, with some darn fool coming down the up ramp, and people trying to leave, all the peace and love from the show wearing off quickly. I have gotten used to people proclaiming that they are saying it with love only to use that as a veiled threat. So, a Cadillac Escalade not letting me cross the street? minor in my day. And as I stated, we won. we got out safely, and got home with all the correct pieces in place.
Did I mention the front row? I won't.
I also won't mention who wiped their nose, then peaked at their sleeve to see the results.
And we get to spin round and round again tomorrow!
Let's Drive to Long Island
Waking up in the morning. the collective chorus of "ow", "ouch" "oh my" is heard. Not even a long hot shower with luxury soaps can wash away this fatique, so I use the provided products, and hope for the best. I dress for a long car ride, and hope for more road side meals. We take the scenic route, and see New Jersey. We don't see any storm damage other than the ocassional downed tree, the same as at home, but I am not on a disaster tour of the Northeast. I am in search of a stellar concert experience.
We arrive at the proper venue hours early, despite traffic. And a trip thru the theater district of NYC. Now what? so we go for a walk. Back sitting in the car, I observe the patrons of this fine facility. Everyone drives too fast down the access road to the parking lot, and the attendants, there to assist in the proper parking of all the cars, accept folded bills of currency from some of the shiniest and most expensive cars, and these cars are placed in strategic spots, allowing for easy egress. alas, a thousand cars all trying to get out at the same time, with several jaguars and mercedes blocking the way makes it difficult for the rest of us, and the attendants were not in sight. A luxury car free for all. some one alsways win, though, and we did escape in time.
Back to sitting around observing the people. Gone were the sour faces seen in Easton, in their places were the faces of happy hippies, the survivors of Woodstock, all bathed and prosperous. And some with the tell tale limp of needing new hips and knees. Nothing wrong with that. The audience was predominately male, with many men in pairs arriving, not those kind, no, just friends. Not that there is anything wrong with that either.
Once again I sit next to someone who asks if I am a first timer? Does no one know who I am anymore?
There stood over past me a bit, a gentleman wearing a tshirt advertising an upcoming ocean voyage event. He stood, back towards one half of the audience, then turned, and did this for a few minutes, then sat down. A few rows over and down, another man in a similar shirt, coincidently advertising the same event, then stood up, posed, turned, posed again. Then they both stood up, gave each other full frontal. It was like watching two peacocks circling each other. They finally gave up and waved. Whats with this ocean voyage event that makes one puff up and pose? The man next to me informed me that is was a special VIP cruise for special people. I suppose one needs to be in the know to find these things out. I'll wait for an invitation from and Important Person, myself. If I am as VIP as I think I am, I should beinvited.
The concert was fabulous, a few more of the kinks ironed out, and muscles exercised.
If you want a good concert, my advice is to be a good audience. The concert is in the round, with a revolving stage, and as such, one gets to see thing not usually seen with a standard stage show. Like a view of 2/3 of the audience at any given time.
I truly enjoyed watching all the people singing along to "You and Me" and "Nervous" And yes, I do take my eyes off the stage to see the audience, if it wasn't for all the people buying the tickets in all the cities and towns, None of us would be there.
The sing along to "Question" was fabulous. Almost drowned out the singer, he did let the audience sing a lyric, which doesnt always happen, really looked pleased with the results. There is no "off the stage come back for an encore" thingy here, would take too much effort going up that dark ramp, so, there is some millimg about, and the count town begins. The arm waving during the last song is fun when half the audience is in front and the other half behind, and all waving in different directions.
Then the massive pile up to get out, all those bad hips and knees, all danced and sung out, trying to go up a steep ramp, and out the two exits, and into the parking lot, with some darn fool coming down the up ramp, and people trying to leave, all the peace and love from the show wearing off quickly. I have gotten used to people proclaiming that they are saying it with love only to use that as a veiled threat. So, a Cadillac Escalade not letting me cross the street? minor in my day. And as I stated, we won. we got out safely, and got home with all the correct pieces in place.
Did I mention the front row? I won't.
I also won't mention who wiped their nose, then peaked at their sleeve to see the results.
And we get to spin round and round again tomorrow!
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Easton, PA November 23, 2012
Friday November 23, 2012
Easton PA
We drive along highways and byways, farms, and hills and valleys. People leading ordinary lives, crowding the malls and Walmarts in search of the elusive 50 inch flat screen 200.00 television.
I am in search of the elusive perfect concert.
The lovely Easton is thronging with people, the Santa parade and Candle lighting ceremony is tonight, and the search is on for the perfect parking spot. I summon one up using my magic powers. Actually we drive around all the detours and get lucky. Decided against seeing Santa, but I was tempted when I saw the balloon scultures, one had a decidedly naughty shape.
We go to the theater. I never liked this place, yet I continue to return, why one asks? Why do you think? I answer. It is run by volunteers, all older, and slow moving, with bad attitudes, as if they were doing you a favor by ripping your stub. The lady insists on telling me where my seat is. I insist I do not need to be told, as I end up in this row all the time. I dodge the pack of stern faced ushers at the top of the aisle, go down and hop around another set of ushers and patrons staring at the ticket and the seat numbers, and come up to my seat.
I was sitting in either the third row center, or fourth row side, outside a 2 row pit, depends on who's delusion or reality you subscribe to. And Ive sat here many times. I have the old stubs to prove it.
I sit next to someone, who starts the conversation "You a Moody Blues Virgin?"
Horrors!
I politely inform them that No, I've been to many, many shows.
How Many, they ask, informing me that they rarely miss a show in the area.
Well, neither do I, and I don't live in this area.
Really, how many?
Hundreds.
Shock, the jaw opens.
No, Really.
Yes.
How do you do that?
I go every night, every tour, every year, every where.
The converstion abruptly ends. Someone else shows up, a real fan as indicated by their wardrobe of purchased merchandise, because only the elite fans know how to get to the table in the lobby to buy tshirts, SHHH dont tell anyone. Well, it was confirmed that I am obviously an imposter, as they dont recognize me either. So, not being the me that goes to these shows, I continue the evening.
By being harrassed by the usher. It had come to the ushers attention that I was not in my seat, that I was seat jumping to this fabulous 6th row near the wall seat. I was asked for my stub, informed that I had to move, until I pointed out that I was in fact in the correct seat. We also had to inform this dimwitted cluck that my travel partner was not sitting with her husband. I have been accused of various behaviors, and predilections, but rarely have I been accused of being a "not husband". I would like to know why I was singled out, because no one else was subject to the same rigorous seat identification methods I was.
And the concert begins
Gemini Dream, sung to the usual standards with a mis sung verse. Dont ask which verse, as they rattle us up in the audience by randomly singing two different ones at the same time, in a different pattern each time. Quite exciting.
The Day we Meet again wasnt tonight, and may not be for a while.
Say it With Love had a nice yodel to it. Unexpected extra high warbling.
Not half as many people as you may have been lead to believe were known to be out there somewhere, and the story as always, was in my eyes.
In my wildest dreams there was a hint of country yodels again, and
The other side of life was sung in several other keys before the correct one was hit. There were several blue glowsticks doing a new pattern, not the usual customary and accepted correct one, nor the lack of rhythm one that is seen often, as not all of us can coordinate the sway of a bass player in tight trousers with our extended arms. Im not sure if this was to attract circling air planes or the debut of something new. So, begs the question, how does one rehearse for this? Im filing this to ponder at a later date.
Nights in white satin had a new verse, Just what you want to be, you will soon understand. I certainly hope so, I might have to ask for clarification of that from the author.
By the time the Question was asked, the same 4 ladies were standing over the side, as had been standing all concert, except when the Nasty Usher was doing his shift.
The audience was not the good looking old hippies having a great time as is usual at this place, it looked a bit like a convention of constipated bankers. Basically, like no one there was giving a poop about the show.
The Band was in good voice, good energy, each song started off with a Pow!, but some had a fizzle and not a sizzle at the end. Fatique? lack of audience participation? The line of camera lenses instead of faces? Who can say. Time will tell, and maybe I will too.
Easton PA
We drive along highways and byways, farms, and hills and valleys. People leading ordinary lives, crowding the malls and Walmarts in search of the elusive 50 inch flat screen 200.00 television.
I am in search of the elusive perfect concert.
The lovely Easton is thronging with people, the Santa parade and Candle lighting ceremony is tonight, and the search is on for the perfect parking spot. I summon one up using my magic powers. Actually we drive around all the detours and get lucky. Decided against seeing Santa, but I was tempted when I saw the balloon scultures, one had a decidedly naughty shape.
We go to the theater. I never liked this place, yet I continue to return, why one asks? Why do you think? I answer. It is run by volunteers, all older, and slow moving, with bad attitudes, as if they were doing you a favor by ripping your stub. The lady insists on telling me where my seat is. I insist I do not need to be told, as I end up in this row all the time. I dodge the pack of stern faced ushers at the top of the aisle, go down and hop around another set of ushers and patrons staring at the ticket and the seat numbers, and come up to my seat.
I was sitting in either the third row center, or fourth row side, outside a 2 row pit, depends on who's delusion or reality you subscribe to. And Ive sat here many times. I have the old stubs to prove it.
I sit next to someone, who starts the conversation "You a Moody Blues Virgin?"
Horrors!
I politely inform them that No, I've been to many, many shows.
How Many, they ask, informing me that they rarely miss a show in the area.
Well, neither do I, and I don't live in this area.
Really, how many?
Hundreds.
Shock, the jaw opens.
No, Really.
Yes.
How do you do that?
I go every night, every tour, every year, every where.
The converstion abruptly ends. Someone else shows up, a real fan as indicated by their wardrobe of purchased merchandise, because only the elite fans know how to get to the table in the lobby to buy tshirts, SHHH dont tell anyone. Well, it was confirmed that I am obviously an imposter, as they dont recognize me either. So, not being the me that goes to these shows, I continue the evening.
By being harrassed by the usher. It had come to the ushers attention that I was not in my seat, that I was seat jumping to this fabulous 6th row near the wall seat. I was asked for my stub, informed that I had to move, until I pointed out that I was in fact in the correct seat. We also had to inform this dimwitted cluck that my travel partner was not sitting with her husband. I have been accused of various behaviors, and predilections, but rarely have I been accused of being a "not husband". I would like to know why I was singled out, because no one else was subject to the same rigorous seat identification methods I was.
And the concert begins
Gemini Dream, sung to the usual standards with a mis sung verse. Dont ask which verse, as they rattle us up in the audience by randomly singing two different ones at the same time, in a different pattern each time. Quite exciting.
The Day we Meet again wasnt tonight, and may not be for a while.
Say it With Love had a nice yodel to it. Unexpected extra high warbling.
Not half as many people as you may have been lead to believe were known to be out there somewhere, and the story as always, was in my eyes.
In my wildest dreams there was a hint of country yodels again, and
The other side of life was sung in several other keys before the correct one was hit. There were several blue glowsticks doing a new pattern, not the usual customary and accepted correct one, nor the lack of rhythm one that is seen often, as not all of us can coordinate the sway of a bass player in tight trousers with our extended arms. Im not sure if this was to attract circling air planes or the debut of something new. So, begs the question, how does one rehearse for this? Im filing this to ponder at a later date.
Nights in white satin had a new verse, Just what you want to be, you will soon understand. I certainly hope so, I might have to ask for clarification of that from the author.
By the time the Question was asked, the same 4 ladies were standing over the side, as had been standing all concert, except when the Nasty Usher was doing his shift.
The audience was not the good looking old hippies having a great time as is usual at this place, it looked a bit like a convention of constipated bankers. Basically, like no one there was giving a poop about the show.
The Band was in good voice, good energy, each song started off with a Pow!, but some had a fizzle and not a sizzle at the end. Fatique? lack of audience participation? The line of camera lenses instead of faces? Who can say. Time will tell, and maybe I will too.
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Countdowns
Thursday November 22, 2012
Countdowns. People like to count down to an event, planning, getting excited. Why? I've done it, and I don't remember why, what motivated me other than needing something to do. It becomes ritualistic, and a creative outlet, but what purpose does it serve?
It makes some people happy. It hurts no one. It aids in planning for the event.
I like the anticipation, the thrill, the electric current that courses through my body at the thought of the event. The numbers mean a steady progression of time, orderly lined up in front of me, plenty of it, room to let things by, time to get things done, items prepared, plans made.
Then the countdown reads Zero. No time left, time has run out, and now the real work begins. I envy those that prepare, have notes and lists, I also despise them, for not having the brain power to think on the fly. I secretly congratulate myself as each item, each chore is knocked off my imaginary list, the one in my head, only to be replaced by the stomach sinking feeling as each item off the list leaves room for 10 more items.
Do I ask anyone to help? That would let them know I am failing; that there is a chink in my armour. That would be unpleasant.
But isn't it pleasant when one can share? laughing at ourselves together, without fear of recrimination, of snide remarks, of having your foibles and flaws brought up at an awkward time desinged to make you look ridiculous. Designed to make the accuser look better?
Yes, it is pleasant to share like behaviors, flaws and fears with friends. The knowledge that your secrets are safe, your hidden fears remain hidden, and the shared laughter when you cross that invisible line into the land of strange obsessions, and know you will be brought back safely, after a good giggle. Knowing that your companions are not sinking into that strange land, drawing you in, then leaving you there to drown, alone.
And knowing that although you publically despise countdowns, you have someone with whom you can share the numbers.
Countdowns. People like to count down to an event, planning, getting excited. Why? I've done it, and I don't remember why, what motivated me other than needing something to do. It becomes ritualistic, and a creative outlet, but what purpose does it serve?
It makes some people happy. It hurts no one. It aids in planning for the event.
I like the anticipation, the thrill, the electric current that courses through my body at the thought of the event. The numbers mean a steady progression of time, orderly lined up in front of me, plenty of it, room to let things by, time to get things done, items prepared, plans made.
Then the countdown reads Zero. No time left, time has run out, and now the real work begins. I envy those that prepare, have notes and lists, I also despise them, for not having the brain power to think on the fly. I secretly congratulate myself as each item, each chore is knocked off my imaginary list, the one in my head, only to be replaced by the stomach sinking feeling as each item off the list leaves room for 10 more items.
Do I ask anyone to help? That would let them know I am failing; that there is a chink in my armour. That would be unpleasant.
But isn't it pleasant when one can share? laughing at ourselves together, without fear of recrimination, of snide remarks, of having your foibles and flaws brought up at an awkward time desinged to make you look ridiculous. Designed to make the accuser look better?
Yes, it is pleasant to share like behaviors, flaws and fears with friends. The knowledge that your secrets are safe, your hidden fears remain hidden, and the shared laughter when you cross that invisible line into the land of strange obsessions, and know you will be brought back safely, after a good giggle. Knowing that your companions are not sinking into that strange land, drawing you in, then leaving you there to drown, alone.
And knowing that although you publically despise countdowns, you have someone with whom you can share the numbers.
Monday, November 19, 2012
November 19, 2012
Seriously, who would have thought thirty years ago, that one concert could change so may lives in so many ways?
I can pinpoint in time and space when the universe took a turn, and I began a journey that hasn't ended yet, and I think of all the lives that one decision has touched; the people with whom I have traveled, laughed and cried with, and those that i have yet to meet. The people I have left behind, and those that have gone on, leaving me behind. The tens of thousands of people, who at first were sitting in the concert halls in front of me, now seated behind me. The fabulous and frivolous, the sad and bad places I have been to, and that none of this would be, if I hadn't left the house one night in July 1984. Oh, I have enough humility to realize that the concerts would have happened, many, if not most of the people would have found their ways there, but not in the combinations and configurations that occurred.
There are those that may publically and privately wish I had never shown up, but I doubt anyone on the stage feels that way. In fact, Ive been told differently. There are times I wonder if the concert would have been as fabulous if I hadn't been there hopping up and down, and there are times I wonder how a concert can be good without me.
There are those who brag about the amount of concerts that they have gone to, and are lying. I haven't been to the most of any fan, not close, but given the known, I doubt anyone can pass me in attendance at this time. I want to hope that there are that may shows ahead of us, but at the current rate of performances per year, doubtful, given all our ages. But never say never, in a perfect world, someone going to more than 300 concerts starting today would be fabulous, because I would be there too.
So why do I go? I have no idea. If I did, perhaps I'd get my fill and go home. Its been close a few times, but something always happens to relight that spark. I get all jumbly tumbly tummy before each show, as if I were the performer. Each song being played is my favorite, or at least has a twiddly bit that I find satisfying, and the sadness I feel as it ends is quickly replaced by the elation felt as the next song begins. Yes, I have heard a few songs too many times, and I will never publically admit to which ones, and for the most part, they arent performed anymore. And no, it never gets old, not entirely. yes, they sing the same songs every night, with the occasional shakeup, and no it isnt the same night after night. Im in a different venue, a different seat, Ive traveled, eaten, slept, changed clothes, and lived more in that past 24 hours than most people might live in a lifetime. At the start of a Tour, I have an idea of where I'll be going. At the end of the Tour, looking back, it is never as planned, and beyond expectations. I've often found myself at the last show of the Tour, weeks after the beginning, made with last minute plans, no ticket, no reservations, no money, having a great time.
I have found my happy place. Many people search for this, few find it. Some bury their searches in a bottle, or bags of powder and pills. Some hide at home, blaming poor health, poor finances, bad marriages for all their misery. Some even hide behind the anonymity of the Internet and hurl insults, and dissect and try to decipher motives, using their fantasies and suspect reasons for why they would do this, and why I really go, and disagree with me when I tell the truth. I keep going because it makes me happy. Plain and Simple. Can one describe that all over tingle, that butterfly belly, the dry mouth? That "night before Christmas" feeling only a young child feels? The night before your wedding feeling? Ive never had that, but I suspect it is similar. Dont you want to feel that again? I do, and this does it for me. Like enjoying chocolate, or wine, can you describe it adequately for anyone to understand? Do you let negative remarks keep you away? I doubt it. So, let me enjoy this, this fleeting feeling, and let me be.
To be at a concert. To hear that special combination of notes that will never be played this way again, to have the sound waves wash over me, pass through me, go beyond me, getting smaller and smaller then dissappearing into infinity. I am part of this, the now. I see the people on the stage, people who once were the bright young things in a studio, long ago and far away, writing, recording these songs, The disembodied voices I used to command to play, exactly the same every time, by spinning a vinyl disc and placing a diamond in the grooves. Then by having a laser read an invisible code, how cool was that? Now I get to hear them do these same old songs in a new way, the way they want to present it today, and sometimes not quite coming off as planned. The best concerts are the perfect ones, and the ones with the most mistakes. And the ones in between. To hear someone sing a song for their 3000th time, and my hearing it live for the 300th time, and to have it end with a feeling that I witnessed something special is phenomenal, and that is maybe why I keep going, to not miss that one great moment that rises above all the others.
And why I dont want to go. There comes a time, each Tour, that moment of complete clarity, when I realize what I am doing.
I am spending money that could be put to better personal use. I am traveling to mundane, boring places with no plan to do anything there other than get to the venue, and leave 3 hours later. I go to the most glamorous places in the world, and miss all the tourist spots. I am wearing innapropriate clothing, spending a lot of time in cars, busses, trains, planes, and hotel rooms. I am listening to 20, 30, 40 year old songs, written by idealistic young men, sung by grand dads. I am no longer the young nubile attractive suductive female that one associates with a rock band.
And yet, once the lights dim, we all transform back to what whe want to be, rock stars, young girls, young men, All happy to be there, and it comes back to why I am there. And why they are here, it makes us Happy. And we all look around, to the familiar faces, the ones we are glad to see, and the ones we are not always glad to see, and we think, "where would I be if I wasnt here?", and the thought moves away faster than a cymbal crash, and off we go, Happy. Singing off tune, hitting sour notes, dancing with arthritic joints? Not during the show, no one notices, at least not enough to spoil it.
Seriously, who would have thought thirty years ago, that one concert could change so may lives in so many ways?
I can pinpoint in time and space when the universe took a turn, and I began a journey that hasn't ended yet, and I think of all the lives that one decision has touched; the people with whom I have traveled, laughed and cried with, and those that i have yet to meet. The people I have left behind, and those that have gone on, leaving me behind. The tens of thousands of people, who at first were sitting in the concert halls in front of me, now seated behind me. The fabulous and frivolous, the sad and bad places I have been to, and that none of this would be, if I hadn't left the house one night in July 1984. Oh, I have enough humility to realize that the concerts would have happened, many, if not most of the people would have found their ways there, but not in the combinations and configurations that occurred.
There are those that may publically and privately wish I had never shown up, but I doubt anyone on the stage feels that way. In fact, Ive been told differently. There are times I wonder if the concert would have been as fabulous if I hadn't been there hopping up and down, and there are times I wonder how a concert can be good without me.
There are those who brag about the amount of concerts that they have gone to, and are lying. I haven't been to the most of any fan, not close, but given the known, I doubt anyone can pass me in attendance at this time. I want to hope that there are that may shows ahead of us, but at the current rate of performances per year, doubtful, given all our ages. But never say never, in a perfect world, someone going to more than 300 concerts starting today would be fabulous, because I would be there too.
So why do I go? I have no idea. If I did, perhaps I'd get my fill and go home. Its been close a few times, but something always happens to relight that spark. I get all jumbly tumbly tummy before each show, as if I were the performer. Each song being played is my favorite, or at least has a twiddly bit that I find satisfying, and the sadness I feel as it ends is quickly replaced by the elation felt as the next song begins. Yes, I have heard a few songs too many times, and I will never publically admit to which ones, and for the most part, they arent performed anymore. And no, it never gets old, not entirely. yes, they sing the same songs every night, with the occasional shakeup, and no it isnt the same night after night. Im in a different venue, a different seat, Ive traveled, eaten, slept, changed clothes, and lived more in that past 24 hours than most people might live in a lifetime. At the start of a Tour, I have an idea of where I'll be going. At the end of the Tour, looking back, it is never as planned, and beyond expectations. I've often found myself at the last show of the Tour, weeks after the beginning, made with last minute plans, no ticket, no reservations, no money, having a great time.
I have found my happy place. Many people search for this, few find it. Some bury their searches in a bottle, or bags of powder and pills. Some hide at home, blaming poor health, poor finances, bad marriages for all their misery. Some even hide behind the anonymity of the Internet and hurl insults, and dissect and try to decipher motives, using their fantasies and suspect reasons for why they would do this, and why I really go, and disagree with me when I tell the truth. I keep going because it makes me happy. Plain and Simple. Can one describe that all over tingle, that butterfly belly, the dry mouth? That "night before Christmas" feeling only a young child feels? The night before your wedding feeling? Ive never had that, but I suspect it is similar. Dont you want to feel that again? I do, and this does it for me. Like enjoying chocolate, or wine, can you describe it adequately for anyone to understand? Do you let negative remarks keep you away? I doubt it. So, let me enjoy this, this fleeting feeling, and let me be.
To be at a concert. To hear that special combination of notes that will never be played this way again, to have the sound waves wash over me, pass through me, go beyond me, getting smaller and smaller then dissappearing into infinity. I am part of this, the now. I see the people on the stage, people who once were the bright young things in a studio, long ago and far away, writing, recording these songs, The disembodied voices I used to command to play, exactly the same every time, by spinning a vinyl disc and placing a diamond in the grooves. Then by having a laser read an invisible code, how cool was that? Now I get to hear them do these same old songs in a new way, the way they want to present it today, and sometimes not quite coming off as planned. The best concerts are the perfect ones, and the ones with the most mistakes. And the ones in between. To hear someone sing a song for their 3000th time, and my hearing it live for the 300th time, and to have it end with a feeling that I witnessed something special is phenomenal, and that is maybe why I keep going, to not miss that one great moment that rises above all the others.
And why I dont want to go. There comes a time, each Tour, that moment of complete clarity, when I realize what I am doing.
I am spending money that could be put to better personal use. I am traveling to mundane, boring places with no plan to do anything there other than get to the venue, and leave 3 hours later. I go to the most glamorous places in the world, and miss all the tourist spots. I am wearing innapropriate clothing, spending a lot of time in cars, busses, trains, planes, and hotel rooms. I am listening to 20, 30, 40 year old songs, written by idealistic young men, sung by grand dads. I am no longer the young nubile attractive suductive female that one associates with a rock band.
And yet, once the lights dim, we all transform back to what whe want to be, rock stars, young girls, young men, All happy to be there, and it comes back to why I am there. And why they are here, it makes us Happy. And we all look around, to the familiar faces, the ones we are glad to see, and the ones we are not always glad to see, and we think, "where would I be if I wasnt here?", and the thought moves away faster than a cymbal crash, and off we go, Happy. Singing off tune, hitting sour notes, dancing with arthritic joints? Not during the show, no one notices, at least not enough to spoil it.
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